Billy Budd, SOH, Sept 26, 2008

Murray Black | September 26, 2008

Billy Budd by Benjamin Britten. Opera Australia. Conductor: Richard Hickox. Director: Neil Armfield. Sydney Opera House, September24. Tickets: $99-$240. Bookings: (02) 9318 8200. Until October 16.

TEN years after its premiere, director Neil Armfield's production of Benjamin Britten's opera Billy Budd remains fresh and compelling. Dominated by a movable rectangular platform that rises, falls and circles an otherwise sparse stage, its great virtue is that nothing is allowed to distract from the moral drama that unfolds.

At this production's core are three magnificent performances. Although Peter Coleman-Wright's singing in the original production had greater richness of tone and complexity of colour, fellow baritone Teddy Tahu Rhodes is still a fine Billy Budd. Singing with a clear, focused tone and impressive agility, his firm, youthful-sounding voice is well suited to his character's exuberant good nature. Rhodes's characterisation is a winning mix of virile magnetism, artless simplicity and, ultimately, moral strength. And, yes, his shirt does come off for a while during the first act.

Tenor Philip Langridge's Aschenbach in Opera Australia's 2005 production of Britten's Death in Venice was extraordinary. Here, as Captain Vere, he is almost as good. Despite showing occasional signs of strain in his top register, Langridge's sinuous line, superb diction and sensitive phrasing illuminate Vere's inner torment at the excruciating moral dilemma he faces. He wants to save Billy from the gallows but his sense of duty cannot allow it. The pain and grief at what he is forced to do are seared into Langridge's vocal timbre.

As the black-hearted Claggart, bass-baritone John Wegner almost steals the show. It is a commanding performance of imposing malevolence and slow-burning intensity. He sings with stamina and strength, investing his voice with a burnished dark-hued tone. Wegner also captures his character's seething heart of darkness. Homoerotism is acknowledged without being overdone and twisted self-loathing adds complexity to a convincing portrait of evil.

The three leads receive able support from the rest of the all-male cast. The male chorus also has a prominent role in this opera. Sustaining good balance and blend throughout, they're equally impressive in hushed, sotto voce passages and full-voiced, fortissimo outbursts.

Apart from the occasional blemish, the orchestra responds to Richard Hickox's inspired direction with polish and refinement.

OA has been criticised recently for its musical standards and production qualities. There can be no more eloquent rebuttal than this outstanding production.

Billy Budd, SOH, Sept 24, 2008

Opera Australia at its very best by Sarah Noble

Britten: Billy Budd Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 24 September 2008

Not every great composer has been lucky enough to find a librettist of equal inspiration. Benjamin Britten, however, was blessed with several superb librettists, whose creations not only match the excellence of his music, but stand on their own as works of real literary merit. The libretto for Billy Budd is a prime example. Adapted from Herman Melville's unfinished novella by novelist E.M. Forster and longtime Britten collaborator Eric Crozier, it is at once readily intelligible and powerfully poetic. Britten's extraordinary score could ask for no better partner. The story opens upon the ageing Captain Edward Fairfax "Starry" Vere, recalling the year 1797, when he commanded the Indomitable. Haunted by remorse, he remembers the young Billy Budd, a talented and beautiful sailor with a heart of gold, pressed into the ship's service. The opera continues as Vere's flashback. Billy is innocent, kind and fiercely loyal; but that very goodness - and his remarkable beauty - earn him the obsessive hatred of the despotic master-at-arms, John Claggart, who plots to destroy him with a false charge of treason. The plot succeeds, but, bewildered by his interrogation, Billy strikes Claggart and kills him. Vere has no choice but to call a court martial, knowing that Billy will be sentenced to death but unable to budge from his own strict code of ethics. He is stricken with guilt. But Billy comes to accept his fate and with his last words, blesses his beloved Captain. The opera ends with the elderly Vere once more, still tormented by his memories, but clinging to that final blessing for his own redemption. Richard Hickox, Opera Australia's music director and an internationally acclaimed Britten specialist, leads a sweeping, richly-textured performance of this haunting score. He conveys the grandeur of its climaxes without lapsing into melodrama, and draws out its contrasting orchestral textures with warmth and clarity. Especially striking are the undulating strings, conjuring up both the physical ocean and all the psychological turmoil for which it stands. Kiwi baritone Teddy Tahu Rhodes is an ideal Billy, possessing all the vocal prowess and all the physical beauty the role requires. Despite his imposing physical presence, he captures beautifully the side of Billy which is still essentially an innocent child. He throws himself fearlessly into both the physicality and the emotional requirements of the role, and his smooth, sonorous singing is hugely expressive. Billy's final monologue, sung as he waits, in chains, to be executed, is devastating.

The opera may be titled Billy Budd, but ultimately it is Captain Vere, and not Billy, who is its centre. Vere's moral crisis is the crux of the story, and it is his tormented recollections which frame the opera, as prologue and epilogue. English tenor Philip Langridge is arguably the finest Britten tenor of his generation and he is stunning in this vital role. Age has brought to his voice an ideal patina of craggy maturity, mingled still with a freshness of tone which makes Langridge equally convincing as both and old man and as his younger self. He doesn't so much play the role as inhabit it completely, giving a performance of rare poignancy - truly a privilege to behold. John Wegner is outstanding as the terrifying Claggart, his tone alternately growling and caressing and his whole being an embodiment of diabolical malice. In a sea of ruddy sailors' faces, Claggart's face is an ghostly shade of white - he radiates unnatural evil before he has even sung a note. His credo (reminiscent of Iago's in Verdi's Otello) in which he outlines his hatred of Billy and its attendant schemes for his downfall, is a bloodcurdling tour de force. The sterling supporting cast is a showcase of some of the country's finest male singers, including particularly strong performances by Barry Ryan and Andrew Collis as Mr Redburn and Mr Flint, and Luke Gabbedy as the larrikin Donald. Andrew Goodwin is touching as the young Novice, while Kanen Breen's thin, reedy tenor is just right for the snivelling Squeak. The remainder of the cast is too numerous to list in its entirety, but all members are worthy of praise. The men's chorus is in superlative form, singing with unity and shimmering voice. Neil Armfield's excellent direction draws out not just the horror and suffering of this story, but also its humour and beauty. He explores all the ambiguous depths and destructive power of good and evil without forcing any single resolution upon their eternal struggle. Brian Thomson's set is stark, industrial and abstract - a single platform, surrounded by a few pieces of scaffolding, rises, falls and rotates to represent every part of the ship. Set against a vast blackness, it evokes not so much the detail of life at sea as the psychology of it, of a profound sense of isolation. Nigel Levings' lighting enhances the eerie mood and his representation of Billy's execution is a particular stroke of genius. Armfield's Billy Budd has been called one of Opera Australia's finest: it's a reputation richly deserved. Brought to life by such a convincing, talented creative team, it is nothing short of phenomenal.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Pearlfishers - OA - Sept 8, 2008

The Pearlfishers

Peter McCallum, reviewer
September 8, 2008

Ann-Magret Pettersson's production is an opera about orientalism and Western representations of the East.

Of golden voice... Henry Choo as Nadir.
Photo: Brendan Esposito

BIZET probably saw his opera The Pearl Fishers as a story in the tradition of Bellini's Norma: a love triangle about a woman, Leila, torn between sacred vows and profane love, and two men united in loyalty but divided by jealousy.

Placing it in Ceylon (originally it was Mexico) provides the usual excuse for exotic dance and colour, as is amply exploited in this revival. It is also an opportunity for the passions to run more freely than in real life.

Ann-Magret Pettersson's 2000 production transforms the work into an opera about orientalism and Western representations of the East, bringing the tacet colonial assumptions of Bizet and his librettists, Michel Cormon and Eugene Carre, to the fore.

Bizet's head fisherman and village leader, Zurga, becomes a French colonial governor and the whole story is set as a distant memory after he has returned to Paris. This gives a piquant and subtle twist to Bizet's musical representation of Leila, the famous hymn-like tune first heard in the great duet Au Fond Du Temple Saint.

With its celestial harp and flute introduction, it might have originally evoked the sanctity of an Ave Maria for Bizet's listeners; in this production it places her firmly on the Parisian side of the orientalist divide.

It also allows the design team (John Conklin, Clare Mitchell and Nigel Levings) to get away with a cardboard cutout view of Ceylon. In the post-9/11 world, orientalist analysis is under challenge, as this production might also be, although it is a thought-provoking way of setting a piece whose music still shines.

The cast of this revival oscillates between the stellar and the stalwart. Looking regally statuesque, Leanne Kenneally, as Leila, began with a veiled sound, her voice finding attractive definition in act two and powerful expressive intensity in the last act, where she was fiercely coloured with being stentorian.

Henry Choo sang Nadir with golden smoothness of voice. His dramatic persona is amiable, such that one would be inclined to put his importunate breaching of the temple in act two down to stupidity rather than passion.

Michael Lewis sang Zurga, bringing the judgment of experience to create fine balance in the great scene with Nadir of act one, as did Shane Lowrencev, the pious priest, Nourabad, who calls for blood in act two.

Bizet's opening was stilted but the Opera Australia chorus is magnificent in moments such as the closing of act one. The conductor, Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, exhorted passion from the pit, sometimes at the expense of precise co-ordination.