BENJAMIN BRITTEN: THE HIDDEN HEART - A LOVE STORY IN THREE PARTS

I've just watched, remarkably for the first time, Teresa Griffith's remarkable 2001 documentary Benjamin Britten:  The Hidden Heart - A Love Story In Three Parts.  I'm fairly wrecked by this beautiful film which is, as the title implies. told in three acts:  I - Peter Grimes; II - War Requiem; and III - Death in Venice.  

Each act concentrates on the creative process, public and critical opinion, and the lifelong love between the composer and Peter Pears. As much as I've read and known - or thought I knew - this pair, insight from beloved friends, family, artistic contemporaries and others bring more into focus the dynamics of their relationship, the dependence upon one another. Most surprising for me was that I'd always viewed Britten as the stronger one being the "creator" of so many works, but it appears now it was Peter who was (as he is referred to several times) "the rock." 

For lovers of Britten's work, the detail behind the creation of these three fairly career defining roles is nothing short of glorious.  Indeed, I felt giddy as Grimes was getting ready to go on to reopen the Sadler Wells, after the war, when the general consensus was the theatre should reopen with something more Aida-like. This was particularly true as it was Britten's first opera, and one fairly had to go back to Purcell's Dido, to name an important British opera.

War Requiem features letters and interviews with Galina Vishnevskaya and Mstislav Rostropovich after Britten had written the part specifically for her, but the Soviets forbade her to take part. It was especially revealing as Vishnevskaya was scheduled for a run of Aida at Covent Garden and then go straight to Coventry for rehearsals and the world premiere. The Soviets called her back saying that they would not permit a Soviet woman to stand beside a German in an antiwar statement.  The interviews with Heather Harper who auditioned and replaced Galina is very touching.

Death in Venice deals with Britten coming to terms with his own mortality, his frailness and identifying as Aschenbach in nearly every way. It got a little uncomfortable in its honesty, but also pulls no punches as to the complexities of our human selves.  I'd never thought of it before, but there is some extra fascination in that in writing the role for Peter, he was having his lover portray him in his final opera.  Fascinating.

The archival footage of rehearsals, performances, the seaside and just living all add depth to this wonderful love story, but it is the final two letters - Ben to Peter as he was too ill to travel to New York for Peter's Met debut in Death in Venice, and Peter's response to Ben that absolutely destroyed me.  

This is simply top drawer filmmaking about one of the 20th century's greatest composers and I can't recommend it highly enough.  

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.