Glorious and Tragic: ENO's Death In Venice

I could not listen to the Met’s “The Merry Widow” last night (or most nights) so to escape the brutal New England chill, I decided to watch the 2012 revival of Deborah Warner’s production of Britten’s “Death in Venice” for the English National Opera. I have loved this work since my high school days, and my appreciation of it has only grown to a point where I’m beginning to think – despite Grimes/Budd/Gloriana/War Requiem all being at the top of the heap - it may be one of Britten’s most ingenious scores.

Several weeks ago there was a discussion here about this opera being "dull" and/or "uninspired." I couldn't disagree more if I wanted to. My dear, long-missed friend and one time frequently marvelous list member, Ann Purtil credited the Met’s production as being responsible for pulling her back into the world of opera. So there’s that.


Even having only seen it on video, Warner’s is one of the most innovative, creative, seamless productions I’ve seen in some time. The integration of dance, movement, lighting and acting are wed to Britten’s most unusual score in a manner that feels completely organic. There is nothing extraneous, nothing that does not serve and move forward this beautiful tragedy to its heartbreaking conclusion.

As much as I loved the Aschenbach’s of Peter Pears and Robert Tear, John Graham-Hall doesn’t portray the tortured “hero” so much as inhabit him entirely. I felt I was witnessing the disintegration of this character so intimately it bordered on voyeurism. Onstage nearly throughout, Graham-Hall sings with the required refined elegance Britten demands here, but it is his integration of myriad facial expressions, reaching gestures of limbs combined with that voice that reflects Aschenbach discomfort with life. When he speaks of his dead wife and recently married daughter, it is shot through with an inherent sadness I’ve never before noticed – or at least paid much attention to. Graham-Hall elevates this brief moment to the point where it feels like the raison d'être for all that transpires from start-to-finish. Here is an artist at the height of his powers delivering a performance that will haunt me to the grave.

Aschenbach being onstage nearly throughout and having the lion’s share of the text, “Death in Venice” is oft-dismissed as a one-man show, which is about as far from the mark as it gets. This performance gives us Andrew Shore – who, within minutes – made mincemeat of my initial reservations. He brings to brilliant life all of the disparate characters, tying each to the other with the genius of a master storyteller. Ultimately, his is the sinister, guiding hand on the complex, confusing, road to hell.

Tim Mead makes a chillingly handsome appearance as Apollo singing in what could easily be called “heldencounter.”

Former Royal Danish Ballet dancer (and current Boston resident) Sam Zaldivar is perfectly cast as Tadzio making not only plausible, but understandable Aschenbach’s obsession. He is appealing in his naturalness and his execution of the difficult, at times wildly acrobatic choreography of Kim Brandstrup. Brandstrup’s dance and movement charge this difficult work with a fluidity that ripples throughout and he and Warner manage to magically
maneuver a large company of chorus, actors, dancers and principals through the opera’s many scenes and locales in an almost dizzying fashion.

Edward Gardner leads the ENO forces through this amazing score with a master’s hand, ever a judicious balancing act of percussive, piano, orchestra and wordless chorus who in concert create a painting for our eyes and ears. This is the first time I’ve experienced this opera where I felt it almost springing directly over centuries from Monteverdi to right now. The-house audience remain rapt and silent for close to a minute as all of us watch Tadzio elegantly pirouetting into the blinding sun as Aschenbach slumps into his final sleep.

For those unfamiliar with this opera, I can’t think of a more appealing way to remedy that situation. For fans, you owe yourselves the opportunity to experience this one. It is magnificent. It is available on DVD, or "for free" for Amazon Prime members.

I recently learned Warner’s production was slated for New York City Opera, but was ultimately nixed. That would have been something.

Moby Dick: Great American Novel Becomes a Worthy Opera

Having done well in a handful of productions since its world premiere, last night's offering on Great Performances will hopefully prove Jake Heggie's new opera, Moby Dick to be an instant American operatic classic.

Robert Brill's physical production, filmed live from the San Francisco Opera, features state-of-the-art technology (lighting, projections, etc.) to seamlessly move the opera's scenes deftly and, not infrequently, adding a little "awe" power for the audience. But the show is not about effects, but rather about epic storytelling through music and the effects and stage designs are simply the very elaborate platform for an overwhelming operatic treatment of one of our great, classic tales.

Heggie's score has moments that recall Britten (strongly) as well as other composers, yet, having heard most of his music to date, stands on its own offering a stamp of recognizable individuality. There were snippets and melodies of things that I "thought" I knew, but were (much like Humperdinck with his Hansel und Gretel) wholly original - yet undeniably familiar. That's a nice gift.

The individual performances are, to a one, exemplary and the commitment each singer brings to his or her role is commendable and clear. Jay Hunter Morris stepped into some big shoes (Ben Heppner was the celebrated, original Ahab) and does so admirably. With a brighter, more pointed sound and less sweetness of tone than Heppner, Morris presents a different Ahab, no less formidable and his madness is, at times, appropriately unnerving, though this seems to come more from seeing than hearing him.

Each of Ahab's crew members are immediately likable, each earning our sympathies, none, so much (for this viewer) as Stephen Costello's Greenhorn. Costello's attractive, tightly wound vibrato imbues Greenhorn with the innocent melancholy of an orphan . . . an outsider, his growing attachment to the "savage" Queequeg, and the friendship that ensues between this pair of loners is infinitely touching.

Greenhorn's "realization" aria following the rescue of Pip elevates this simple soul into another realm. His duet with Queequeg which opens Act 2, is one of the opera's emotional and musical highlights. As Queequeg, Jonathan Lemalus is non plus ultra and will surely be a tough act to follow for future singers of the role. Possessed of a Samoan/Polynesian island physicality, and elaborately tattooed from the face down, Lemalu's savage is truly noble, in many ways, the most thoughtful and honest of the Pequod's shipmates.

Talise Trevigne's clear, high flying soprano and impish size make her perfect as Pip the cabin boy (and she gets to fly) Morgan Smith's Starbuck is, likewise, just about perfect, his great aria closing Act 1 revealing his torturous moral dilemma of how to save his shipmates from Ahab the Mad. The "home" duet for Starbuck and Ahab is a grand one pulling each man in several directions, before driving the opera to its mighty conclusion. Heggie pulls out all the stops here, the music swaying between the sentimentality and the madness of Ahab's pursuit of the Great White.

Patrick Summers leads the San Francisco forces with assurance, driving the music furiously through its dramatic, stormy scenes while allowing his singers plenty of room for lyrical expansion - which Heggie, thankfully offers the men and boys of the Pequod, aplenty.

The DVD/BluRay set finds the opera - a bit more than was captured for PBS (including a curtain call, albeit abbreviated and rushed clumsily), onto a single disc, with a second, hour long DVD featuring interviews with the cast, Messrs Heggie, Summers and Scheer. It also has a breathtaking (literally), fascinating time-lapse video condensing a roughly 24 hour period of the War Memorial Stage as it transforms from Lohengrin, to Moby Dick, Lohengrin again, then Tosca.

I was happy to learn that after 5 or 6 productions so far, "Moby Dick" will be playing at even more companies in the upcoming years - a promising sign.

Billy Budd: The Shirtless Option?

Members of several online opera sites are speculating whether next season's production of Billy Budd will find Nathan Gunn shirtless in the title role or not. Though the Met's production hasn't as yet featured a topless Billy - Gunn seems to appear regularly in roles that "require" him to have at least a scene or two sans a shirt. I'm guessing his Met costume will be a bit "briefer" than past interpreters of the role at Lincoln Center.

The role of Billy has - in a great many productions over the last 20 years or so - featured quite a number of half naked Budd's. Here are a few of the more famous/notable ones. Note: none of them is Mr. Gunn.