Despite its great success, Peter Grimes was no pleasant experience for the Britten. The première at Sadler’s Wells was plagued by infighting and thoroughly exhausted the young composer. Given this, it is perhaps unsurprising that his next two operas were in his trademark “chamber opera” scoring, no longer requiring the financial backing or the venues provided by London’s large opera houses, allowing him to retreat to Glyndebourne and the company of friends. However, in 1951 he was tempted back to the grand opera stage (Covent Garden) by Hermann Melville’s unfinished novella Billy Budd.
The incredible thing about Billy Budd is that, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the large cast and orchestra, it is far more claustrophobic than The Rape of Lucretia or Albert Herring, the two operas which precede it. It’s a fascinating psychological exploration of men’s behaviour in enclosed, overcrowded conditions, starved of any female presence.
The Deutsche Oper Berlin’s co-production with English National Opera is for me somewhat problematic. The sense of confinement is greatly heightened by the ambiguous setting, something akin to a concentration camp, which emphasises the easily forgotten fact that many of the shipmates have been pressed against their will. The first chorus is a burdened drone of “oh heave”, the groaning of a faceless mass oppressed (or perhaps simply bored) by labour and this new setting works well here. However, below decks “We’re off to Samoa” is full of joy and comradeship and seems out of place. A ship is indeed a cramped space, but there’s the freedom of being on the open sea combined with it, and the prospect of land; a concentration camp is much bleaker, which is supported by neither music nor libretto.
One of the best features of this production is the characterisation of the main characters. John Chest embodies the young Billy’s naivety, while the heightening of Claggart’s homosexual desires give his bullying of Billy a motive which usually seems unexplained. Captain Vere, whose doubts over his own actions frame the entire opera, is also a character who often fails to elicit sympathy from the audience dramatically, even though it’s musically clear that this should be the case. Burkhard Ulrich’s performance was so plagued by physical uncertainty in the crucial moments of the second act that there was no doubt that Vere felt truly unable to do what he felt was right, and defected to an external authority, in this case the word of law.