Peter Grimes is one of the greatest tragedies in operatic history. One of the heights of 20th Century music in Britain and worldwide, this opera made a milestone because of its powerful, majestic score, which makes one to feel the fury of the sea impacting in someone's face, and because of its story, the self-destruction process of a violent, cruel fisherman who is the victim of a society who fears and destroys anything who doesn't know and finds unreliable, judging and sentencing without any proof or evidence.
Like Grimes, Benjamin Britten suffered also from the distrust of his society: he was homosexual, living with his partner Peter Pears (who premiered the opera in 1945) and also a pacifist in the troubled 1940s in Britain, during the World War II period. Britten and his librettist Montagu Slater take the Crabbe's poem story to focus on an universal theme: how society hates anyone or anything unknown to it, and tries to eliminate, through ignorance and gossip, slowly and painfully. The outcast Peter Grimes suffers the consequence of his lack of integration: the inhabitants of The Borough drive him to his self-destruction and suicide. Britten's score has the force of a powerful symphony and the depth of a theatrical drama. When listening to it, the sea is felt. Britain is felt. The interludes are by their own right celebrated pieces in symphonic concerts. The music is descriptive, evocating, theatrical, with some signs of costumbrist comedy, surrounded by the pathetism of the dark, narrow-minded life in The Borough.
In 1992, Peter Grimes had its premiere in Spain at the Teatro de la Zarzuela, in Madrid. Five years later, it was premiered in the first season of the new Teatro Real (who was re-inaugurated as an opera house after a 72-year pause) in 1997, in a touring performance by the La Monnaie Opera from Belgium, conducted by Antonio Pappano and staged by Willy Decker. Twenty-four years later, Britten's tragedy returns to Teatro Real, now with its own orchestra and chorus playing this masterpiece for the first time, in a new staging by Deborah Warner, returning after her historical production of Billy Budd in the same stage in 2017.
Warner takes the action to the modern Britain, in which the exclusion of the outcast has still the same force as it used to have in Crabbe's and Britten's respective times. She delves in the terrible nature of the consequences of this kind of attitude, recreating that oppressive athmosphere in a decadent but still beautiful coast, with the sea as an omnipresent set, as well as a force ruling life there. The staging begins with an oneiric, nightmare-like minimalist prologue, in which a boat is floating and a man descends to touch Peter Grimes, lying on the floor. The chorus enters with lanterns aiming the fisherman, like the voice of conscience tormenting him. Act One is the most realistic one, with the first scene in a modern fish market, the chorus working while singing their first wonderful lines, and the nieces as quality control workers. The Boar in scene 2 is like a modern pub, with vintage but poor decoration, like in a working class neighbourhood taken from a Ken Loach film.
Act Two takes place in a devastated beach, with the sea now present until the end of the show. Grimes' house has a boat shape. Shortly while the Interlude 5 is playing, Grimes seems to approach and cover with John's body with his coat. Act Three shows the same beach but now during the night. The same people who seem so puritan in the previous act appears now unhibited and giving into debauchery. For example Swallow with his pants down playing with the Nieces. Here takes place the most shocking scene: the terrible choir, with an angry mob determined to take revenge on Grimes, appears with lighting torchs, a scarecrow depicting the hated fisherman, being savagely shaken and hit. Curiously a man appears shaking an English flag, a symbol on how chauvinism and narrow-minded thinking can result in a dangerous sensationalist cocktail, like in the present-day Britain poisoned by heinous tabloid press and recently hit by nationalism? The final scene is the other great achievement: after the farewell from Ellen and Balstrode, Grimes slowly walks into the sea, raising an arm like a final bow before comitting suicide. Then, another day begins: the chorus slowly fills the scene looking to that sea which has swallowed him. They apppear like the only responsible for Grimes' destiny, accomplices of this tragedy, an insensitive society which enjoys annihilating any undesired individual and element, to finally forget everything and continue with their lives.
Ivor Bolton has shown again his experience in Britten's music, by making the Teatro Real Orchestra sounding like the ENO. The musicians gave a fantastic rendition under his baton, obtaining a shining, powerful, tragicomic sound, the result of a great preparation. The strings, a true acid test of this orchestra, sounded very well, and really shone in most of the show. Also did the woodwind percussion sections. On the other hand, tempi were sometimes slow, which became a trouble in some of the interludes like the Passacaglia, which seemed extremely long lasting, and the brass sounded, like also in Interlude 2, very loud, even lost in few moments. On the other hand, amazing renditions were given for Interludes 3,5 (with a calm, solemn, magnificent performance of the strings) and 6, by far the best conducted of them all, with the tutti sounding spectacular.
The Teatro Real Chorus gave a fantastic rendition of its complicated part. From an mystical beginning in their first appearance in Act 1, by the end of that act their had already reached their usual level, with a powerful and censoring pronunciation of the line "Do you call that a home". In the first scenes of Act 2 and 3 they were at the height of their performance, sounding menacing, ecstatic, breaking their back in their scene in Act 3 when they swear revenge on Grimes, in a struggle with the orchestra for sounding as loud as possible, definitely with a victory of the chorus. Their scream "Peter Grimes" will echo in the hall for a long time.
Allan Clayton sings the title role, with a lyric, youthful, beautiful voice, an alternative style to the cranky old man given by heldentenors or great tenors past their prime. His lyrism fits in the most intimate arias like What harbour shelters peace or Now the Great Bear and Pleiades, sung exquisitely, conveying the most fragile side of the character. He reserved his voice for his final monologue sung a cappella, in which he sounded tragic, heartbreaking, in a devoted rendition. As actor, his Peter Grimes is a brute young man, but inspiring more sympathy than repulsion.
Maria Bengtsson is a remarkable Ellen Orford, despite her a bit nasal-sounding voice, and her lack of some volume in Act 2. In spite of this, her voice is light but nice, and she gave a dramatic, intense version of We planned that their lives in Act 2. She reserved her voice, like Clayton, for Act 3, in which she sang beautifully her famous aria Embroidery in Childhood. Her acting was very moving at the end when she cries bitterly at listening to Balstrode's final advice to her beloved Grimes.
Christopher Purves was an accomplished Capitain Balstrode, well sung and acted, and a considerable volume. James Gilchrist was convincing as the creepy Reverend Adams, with his excellent spieltenor voice, as well as John Graham-Hall as Bob Boles. One of the big surprises was Clive Bayley with his big-volumed, well projected beautiful bass voice. Jacques Imbrailo, as Ned Keene, and Barnaby Rea as Hobson gave well sung and acted renditions of their roles, here depicted as chav, rude characters, specially the latter one with his drum in Act 2, resembling a scary football hooligan. Catherine Wyn-Rogers sang the Auntie, with her usual remarkable low notes. Rosie Aldridge was Mrs. Sedley, who despite her great characterisation as the gossipy lady of the town (Did Britten caricature Agatha Christie's Miss Marple with this character?), and good singing style, the volume was not enough in her scene in Act 3, when the orchestra sometimes surpassed her. The Nieces were sung by two known, accomplished sopranos in this theatre, Rocío Pérez, who gave an amazing final high note in the quartet From the Gutter, and Natalia Labourdette. The silent role of John, Grimes' ill-fated apprentice was played by the child actor Saúl Esgüeva, who conveyed the fear and suffering of this boy with a tragic fate, in a convincing, superb performance. One really wanted to go to the stage and rescue him from his master's hands!
The audience at the Teatro Real, in a highly-occupated hall despite the capacity limitations, has ovationed this performance. Britten's masterpiece has made a historical, triumphal comeback to Teatro Real, in which a moved, gutted, excited new generation of opera goers who didn't attend the 1997 performances have definitely welcomed the tragic story of Peter Grimes and his predating society.
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