Best of Britten

This week’s opera-going afforded one example of truly great art, and one of its plausible counterfeit. To deal with the latter first: no one can deny that Billy Budd is one of Britten’s most accomplished pieces, a virtuoso exercise in the use of large orchestral forces, and in restriction to male post-pubescent singers. And musically it is done almost complete justice in the new production by English National Opera, conducted with staggering ferocity, tenderness and occasional sluggishness by Edward Gardner. The chorus was the most lusty I have heard in the past 35 years at the Coliseum, with the opening of Act II sounding like the gathering of the Gibichungs — uncannily like it, in fact.

The cast has no weak link, though the title role is not ideally taken by Benedict Nelson. The part has had some great exponents, but he won’t join their ranks; his voice isn’t open or large enough, and perhaps as compensation for that he acts with an insistent ingenuousness which can arouse momentary sympathy with Claggart. Matthew Rose gives a terrifying account of that meaty role; on the whole he is quiet, almost drugged, and he paces the stage slowly to creepy effect. Rose’s voice is now richer than ever, so his evil ‘Credo’ has every colour and a vast dynamic range. Vere, too, a much more problematic role, is strongly taken by Kim Begley, who whimpers in the Prologue and Epilogue, but otherwise sings out as a man of resolution, even if he isn’t one. I’d describe all the rest of the cast as outstanding if that weren’t a contradiction in terms. I can only mention Gwynne Howell as Dansker, Billy’s comforter; he makes every quaver tell.