Ambiguity – “admitting more than one interpretation” says the dictionary – is the essence of The Turn of the Screw. Henry James said as much of his novella. Britten, who resolved that the ghosts were real and must sing, claimed that he and librettist Myfanwy Piper still “left the same ambiguities as Henry James did”. Are the ghosts real, or like Macbeth’s dagger “proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain” of the Governess? Any new production must retain some ambiguity, because that is itself a source of tension and anxiety.
The first ghost is real enough. When the Governess, recently arrived at Bly, sees a stranger and describes him to Mrs Grose, the housekeeper, she recognises the man as Peter Quint and reveals his nature: “is there no end to his dreadful ways?” She also alarms the Governess in revealing that Quint is dead. (James revised his text, but never changed this). So this was not an hallucination but a sighting – the Governess saw a revenant. Against that are the occasions when only the Governess sees a ghost, as when she thinks she sees Miss Jessel but Mrs Grose says “there’s no-one there”. These early exchanges were delivered tensely, in the best sense, by the two singers.
The pre-publicity of this new English National Opera production suggests the ambiguity has been removed, and there were probably no ghosts for the Governess is not in Bly but in Bedlam – a ward in a psychiatric hospital. Yet we are not seeing this patient live-streaming her fantasies into the Coliseum, for she has been hospitalised for 30 years. Did her Bly ‘breakdown’ lead her here? Is she having flashbacks to real events in Bly, or is this only the latest in a sad lifetime of delusions?
Director Isabella Bywater, who also designed the sets and costumes, tell us in her note we are “following (the Governess’) story through her flashbacks and hallucinations”. Flashbacks and hallucinations are not the same thing, and preserve the central ambiguity, although the brief presence of a besuited Peter Quint mopping the ward floor is a misguided counter-textual detail. Paul Anderson’s lighting design is evocative, but murky at times when murk is needed. The hospital set becomes Bly through the use of Jon Driscoll’s projections showing the tree-lined drive, woodland estate, house exterior, staircases and cellars, and the lake. The shaky black-and-white adds a touch of film noir menace.
Another source of strain and tension in the opera is the lack of vocal balance. There is no grounded low voice, just three adult female roles, the two children and a tenor, keeping the work’s tessitura high. Ailish Tynan’s “young and pretty” Governess is a frump in an unprepossessing dress in both ward and house, but her singing could hardly be more elegant, a lovely sound even later on when the character is in extremis. As the Housekeeper Mrs Grose, Gweneth-Ann Rand matched her musically, but in a manner reflecting her subservient status. As Miss Jessel, former Governess and now another ghost, soprano Eleanor Dennis was very real, abused onstage by Quint, and sang with distinction.
Robert Murray’s tenor is just right for Peter Quint, alluring and sensuous. He sang his nocturnal aria to Miles with melismatic flair, not least when he adopted the very notes of the Governess’ “O why did I come” suggesting they have a symbiotic as much as an adversarial relationship. But Murray did not sing the Prologue, which was well narrated by tenor Alan Oke, outlining the “curious story... written in faded ink” to a matron behind her desk in the hospital. Victoria Nekhaenko was impressive in Flora's playfulness with her outsized doll, and later when exasperated by the Governess. Jerry Louth sang Miles with clear diction, and seeming innocence in the pattering slang and crudities of his lesson on masculine Latin nouns, (though their translation could make him seem less innocent). Both children coped well with the huge Coliseum and their challenging vocal parts, but Britten never wrote down to children.
This was a most auspicious debut at ENO for conductor Duncan Ward, who engaged us in the drama unfolding through Britten’s brilliant theme-and-variations score. The English National Opera Orchestra, or the scarcely credible 13 players required for such instrumental variety and power, played with masterly authority.
The Turn of the Screw is an English language opera of considerable stature and should always be in ENO’s repertory. This fine new production, very warmly received on this opening night, should have staying power, especially if tweaks from revival directors respect that central ambiguity.
