Benjamin Britten
Gloriana

A very unfortunate choice from every point of view was to present Gloriana at Covent Garden in 1953, as part of the celebrations for the coronation of Elizabeth II; with such a premise, it's easy to think of it as a token nod, which this opera absolutely is not, and precisely because it's not such, it was received very coldly by the herd of "barons Ochs Von Lerchenau" who attended the premiere expecting some kind of mawkish celebration of the monarchy's glories; from Ben Britten, of all people, of course not. "Boriana," they nicknamed it, bless their hearts. However, once the hangover of the royal festivities was over, Gloriana was generally re-evaluated positively by critics, carving out a niche in the repertoire, which I'd say is fitting for an opera of this worth and historical interest. Unfortunately, the most fitting definition for this opera is undoubtedly that of a missed masterpiece; I adore Benjamin Britten, his sensitivity, his eclecticism, those musical and dramatic insights all his own, and here too he makes ample display of them, in an unusual context for him, with particularly lush orchestration. Yet, despite all its refinement, there are shadowy areas, dead branches, something that does not work as it should.

First and foremost, what does Elizabeth I Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII, this so imposing historical figure, have to do with Peter Grimes, with Captain Vere, with Aschenbach, even with the ambiguous ghost Peter Quint? With the other Brittenian protagonists, she shares that solitude of extraordinary individuals, leading to the impossibility of fully expressing their nature, satisfying their intimate aspirations. There are all the prerequisites for a new, vibrant tragedy made in Britten, but let's immediately remove the load by starting with why Gloriana fails to fully express a potential that is incredibly high on paper. Fundamentally, the root of all evils is a libretto that leaves much to be desired; instead of a single, vibrant, cohesive narrative arc in the style of Peter Grimes and Billy Budd, this opera presents itself as a rather fragmented succession of scenes, the plot that connects them is rather weak, full of time jumps, and aside from Elizabeth, all other characters are little more than "figures", including the co-protagonist himself, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. And this is all well and good for representing the small courtly world in which the story takes place, full of envies, quarrels, duplicities and, indeed, characters of little depth, but from a more strictly dramaturgical and operatic point of view, it represents a rather considerable limitation. The opera, however, is first and foremost music and singing; the libretto, however important, can never be the most important and decisive parameter in evaluation; if it were, just to mention it, Mozart's Magic Flute would have sunk into oblivion a long time ago.

Gloriana contains some of the most evocative moments of the entire Britten production, in which it occupies a prominent place also for its 16th-century historical setting, which does not quite blend with that restless, sometimes sparse, nervous, almost stark musicality of works like the already mentioned Peter Grimes and Billy Budd. Britten here performs an almost philological work at times, faithfully reproducing the sounds and atmospheres of the epoch; this is the case with the brief, incisive prelude, a march of great scenic impact supported by an imposing rhythmic section and the two "lute songs" sung by Essex in the first act, chamber vignettes of exquisitely Brittenesque taste, which slightly recall the minstrel songs in Wagner's Tannhäuser, especially the second one; sensual and melancholic, a twilight melody enriched by vocalizes that foreshadow the "spectral" singing of Peter Quint in The Turn of the Screw (which will come to light two years later). But above all, the grand scene of the court dances, showing Elizabeth exercising her powers as a queen with spirit and cunning, igniting contrasting passions in her courtiers while directing a lively succession of dances of the era: Pavane, Galliard, Lavolta, Morris dance, Coranto, fascinating interludes that emerge from a deep, meticulous work of study and historical research. These are simple, evocative melodies, orchestrated with taste and sobriety, alternated in a "parade" perfectly successful both musically and dramatically, definitely the most original and characteristic moment of Gloriana, highlighting Britten's particular taste in blending old and modern, especially evident in his Midsummer Night's Dream and, obviously, in his chamber works.

But Gloriana also has a more dramatic and intimate side, which becomes evident particularly when Elizabeth is alone on stage, as in "On rivalries 'tis safe for kings / O God, my king, sole ruler of the world", an intense crescendo, very cinematic, in which the great Leontyne Price also excelled, and also the duet with Essex in the last act, in which the queen appears undressed, aged, without a wig; it is an emotional storm of anger, pain, sadness, remorse, regret, in which that dry orchestration reemerges, constructed mainly on rapid, incisive string passages, widely used in Billy Budd; in an ironic and brilliant dramatic intuition, it is followed by a brief chamber choral piece with comforting intents, but it appears muted, deliberately ineffective, and is soon reabsorbed into an already exacerbated atmosphere. And this brings us to the grand finale, again with Elizabeth alone on her throne, slipping away from reality, symbolically slipping away from life itself, accompanied by the voices of her past, singing her own, solemn requiem. Choices, decisions, consequences, everything passes in front of her tired eyes: this is Britten at his most inspired, referencing directly in this scene the symbolic phrase from Peter Grimes, "I hear those voices that will not be drowned", a phrase inscribed on the sculpture erected in his honor on the Aldeburgh beach, the coastal town where he spent much of his life, his personal Bayreuth, a phrase that perfectly represents the deeper meaning of all his dramatic operatic production and, in general, his artistic personality, his legacy to posterity.