Libretto by
E M Forster &
Eric Crozier
after Herman Melville
Conducted by
Andrew Litton
Directed by
Neil Armfield
Designed by
Brian Thomson
Costumes
designed by
Carl Friedrich Oberle
Lighting
designed by
Nigel Levings
Billy Budd
Simon Keenlyside
Captain Vere
Timothy Robinson
Claggart,
the Master at Arms
John Tomlinson
Mr Redburn
Ashley Holland
Mr Flint
Pavlo Hunka
Lieutenant Ratcliffe
Brindley Sherratt
Red Whiskers
Adrian Thompson
Donald
Toby Stafford-Allen
Dansker
Gwynne Howell
Novice
James Edwards
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Billy Budd
by Benjamin Britten
English National Opera
London Coliseum
3 - 17 Dec 2005
Although Billy Budd, the "big lad with the stammer", is the charismatic central figure of this opera, we follow his story through the eyes of Captain Vere. Vere's monologues open and close the piece: as an old man, he looks back on the episode in 1797 when he commanded the ship Indomitable ("hundreds of years ago" he sings , like an old ghost). The press-ganged Billy comes aboard, but his handsome energy is too much for the black-hearted Claggart. Claggart vows to destroy him, and does so, but at the expense of his own life: when falsely accused of mutinous intent, Billy's sense of injustice, and his frustration when his stammer prevents him refuting the slander, lead him to lash out at Claggart, dealing him a fatal blow. Vere is then placed in the position of having to decide whether the higher justice of Billy having dispatched the vile Claggart should outweigh the letter of the "articles of war". He goes by the book and Billy is hanged. Vere is haunted by guilt ("What have I done?"), but finds solace in the epilogue - discovering forgiveness in Billy's final words ("Starry Vere, God bless you").
A potential problem with "Billy Budd" is that Claggart can come across as a two-dimensional villain, irrationally ill-disposed to Billy. It is a key success of this production that this danger is largely avoided. John Tomlinson's Claggart magnificently projects a sense of dark violence without melodrama, vocally hair-raising and physically colossal, bleached face, staring eyes, stiff movements. One believes the self-analysis in his monologue towards the end of Act I. He describes that his response to the "depravity to which [he] was born" was to construct his own "dark world", but that Billy's "light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehends it and suffers". Maybe the "depravity" is a taste for sadism, and the dark world is simply the naval life of discipline and bullying which Claggart has espoused but which Billy's influence shows to be invalid. But (bearing in mind that Britten, Pears and E M Forster are the prime movers of this work), this production suggests that Claggart's "depravity" is homosexuality, which he has buried behind walls of defensive cruelty and discipline. Billy's unique qualities ("O beauty, handsomeness, goodness!") threaten to be too strong for his defences to withstand. Claggart is lost - the repression is too strong, he cannot bear to confront his shadow, his buried nature, and must therefore destroy the threat. This Claggart's villainy has convincing psychological weight.
If Tomlinson's performance is crucial to bringing this off dramatically, so equally is Simon Keenlyside's. Shining vocal delivery is allied to astonishing physicality - he springs around the stage, manages to sing whilst hanging like a monkey from pieces of scenery, runs up and slides down ladders and steps, and yet at key moments finds the simplicity and stillness to allow the lyrical centrepieces of the role (above all on the eve of his execution) to deliver their full emotional effect. It is entirely believable that Claggart should fear being brought to his knees by this boy (Keenlyside easily knocks the requisite 20 years off his age).
It is a great pity that these two ideal performances are not matched by the Vere of Timothy Robinson. Vocally he seems out of his depth, sounding thin to breaking-point in the upper register. Lacking warmth and strength of voice, he simply does not convince as a Captain who inspires the love and loyalty of his crews and above all that crucial final blessing from Billy. His performances of the crepuscular opening and closing monologues were better. The words of the first half of the epilogue were unintelligible, but the whispered conclusion ("I have sighted a sail... I am content...") and slow shuffle into the shadows did catch the breath. Old man or ghost? Who knows?
Other roles are well sung, by and large, and inject welcome humour. The great Froggie-bashing scene with Redburn and Flint in Vere's cabin ("Don't like the French...") is crisply delivered by Ashley Holland and Pavlo Hunka, and the impotent protests of the press-ganged Red Whiskers of Adrian Thompson come off brilliantly.
The production itself is based around a large oblong deck which rotates through 360 degrees - its upper half raised by huge hydraulic arms, either each end independently to form a ramp, or both ends together to form an upper deck. Whilst the flexibility of this device brings dividends e.g. the fluidity of the production, and the ability of the officers' deck scenes to be elevated, it comes at the price of this enormous naked piece of modern machinery sometimes dominating the stage unduly. It was distracting during orchestral interludes, for instance, when one found oneself staring at pieces of kit (the production also uses a number of wheeled steps) which look as if they belong alongside 747s at Heathrow rather than in the Napoleonic wars. But at its best (especially when surrounded by mist) the hydraulic deck did convey the disorienting instability of the ship's deck, and of the sea itself - and by extension, of the moral landscape against which Billy's tragedy is played out.
One classic dramatic device is used to great effect. The elderly Vere is discovered at the opening twisting a piece of red material in his hands - we realise what it is when we see it around Billy's neck as he first comes aboard the Indomitable, the only splash of contrast in the predominantly grey-blue-black design of the production. Claggart then orders Billy to take off this non-regulation neckerchief - which we see next during Claggart's monologue (referred to above) when he draws it from within his jacket. He has been keeping it next to his heart - a telling sign of the extent to which Billy has breached the Claggart defences.
Underpinning the show is a strong performance by the orchestra and chorus. On two or three occasions, the orchestra drowned the soloists on stage, but Andrew Litton generally kept things under control where necessary while allowing the legitimately big moments to come across with awe-inspiring effect - the tremendous sequence of 34 orchestral chords, alternately hushed and blaring, which accompanies Vere's exit to tell Billy he's going to die, was literally breathtaking.
So a broadly impressive evening despite one or two significant flaws. The second half in particular had great overall impact - the "life on the ocean wave" sequences of the first act are dramatically problematic, but the human drama of the second act is concentrated and coherent. And, in the hands of Tomlinson and Keenlyside, gripping and moving.
Nick Armstrong
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