Peter Grimes, the most famous of Benjamin Britten’s operas, was written in 1945 on a libretto by Montagu Slater, based on a poem published by George Crabbe in 1810. Crabbe’s poem tells the story of a brutal, violent fisherman, who “hired” three orphans from a London workhouse, beating them and working them to death, one after the other. Crabbe uses the word “slavery”, which, in 1810, had a different weight. The town people, horrified, shun and avoid Peter, treating him as the criminal he is, while Crabbe accuses them of not having intervened sooner, when they were clearly aware of “Grimes’ exercise”. In Britten’s opera the plot is ambiguous: Peter’s guilt is not certain; the attitude of the Borough’s people is mostly prejudicial, rather than motivated by healthy safeguarding concerns. This aspect has been strongly highlighted (perhaps exaggerated) in the mainstream analysis of this opera, interpreting Grimes as unjustly persecuted because he is “different”.
Director Robert Carsen depicts Grimes as a troubled man drifting into psychosis, his “difference” due an inability to relate to other people (which the villagers mistake for pride) and to control his tendency to violence, which leads to the death also of the new boy apprentice. Brandon Jovanovich gave a heart-wrenching interpretation of this disgraced fisherman, troubled by mental illness. His powerful tenor may have sometimes lost focus in some of the strong, assertive, violent outbursts, but his overall performance was believable and full of emotion. Grimes’ moments of dismay or tenderness were rendered with a lyrical, beautiful mezza voce.
The stage shows a single room with dark wood panelling, representing, with minimal change in the props, all the locations of the action: at the beginning the city hall, where the inquest on the boy’s death takes place, Auntie’s pub, the harbour, Peter’s hut. Perhaps the idea is to show Grimes’ mental prison, but towards the end, it became a bit monotonous. The atmosphere is dark and gloomy, with impressive lights (by Peter Van Praet) and video projections on the higher part of the stage, mainly of Grimes' psychotic eyes. The tension grows throughout the performance and becomes troubling, uncomfortable, almost painful, until Grimes’ suicide, which, alone, seems to bring him peace. One thing almost completely missing in the visual experience is the sea, one of the most important elements of the opera, a constant presence in the music.
The sea did, however, come to life in Simone Young’s spectacular, powerful reading of the score, where every wave, every comber, the tide itself became alive. In particular, the famous Sea Interludes, during the scene changes, were wonderful. The La Scala orchestra gave an incredible rendition of Britten’s music, expressing its unsettling character, and still underlying the lyrical passages with heart melting sweetness. In this, they were matched by Nicole Car, singing Ellen, the only true friend Peter has in the Borough, who tries to help him care for the last boy apprentice, despite the disapproval in the village. Car’s timbre was beautiful and rich, her soprano uniform over the whole range, with great ease on the high notes, and a naturally sweet, lyrical character. Her big aria “Embroidery” in the third act was sung with amazing breath control and penetrating sadness in the voice.
Captain Balstrode, the only other character somewhat sympathetic to Grimes, was Ólafur Sigurdarson, who had a fantastic physique du role – he really looked like a retired ship captain, as you may stereotypically imagine one – and a strong baritone, very well projected and with a great palette of colours. Margaret Plummer was a spirited, butch Auntie, the owner of the local pub, her mezzo warm and strong, while Natasha Petrinsky gave life to the meddling Mrs. Sedley with a lower-set mezzo, always recognisable and present in the ensembles.
In the plethora of minor characters, all sung with remarkably enjoyable voices, I want to mention Peter Rose, who sang Swallow, the coroner, with a well-set, stentorian bass. All the singers, with no exception, including the chorus, were astonishingly good in their commitment to the stage directions: their movements were precise, their acting detailed and emotionally driven.
I want to leave the last words for the chorus of La Scala, who were magnificent. This chorus has accustomed us to excellence, but in this opera, they really outdid themselves. The singing was precise, with attention to details, and intelligent dynamics. Their acting gave life to a scary mob, impressive when on the elevated platform surrounding the stage, as an accusatory jury, dejected when taking shelter in the pub during the terrible storm conjured by Young in the pit. And nothing could have prepared us to their shouts of “Peter Grimes!” in the darkness, while they were pointing flashlights towards the audience. Breathtaking.
