"If you hear it, not just listen to it superficially, you become aware of something very dark". That's what Leonard Bernstein said about the music of Benjamin Britten, and in Peter Grimes, his most successful opera, it is perceived very evidently, but for me, Britten was not only that. He wasn't just an artist too sensitive and complicated to be in harmony with the world; I see him also, and above all, as a great fighter, a man defined foremost by his unwavering passion, by the stubbornness with which he committed to promoting not only his music but also that of other composers, in years when opera, and more generally all music generally defined as "classical," was inexorably losing appeal and prestige among the general public.
Benjamin Britten was the last true great opera composer and a wonderful anomaly, never fully part of an artistic trend, never able, or never interested, in forming one himself. In 1945, he tackled for the first time the challenge of lyrical drama with an opera as unique as he was, loaded with all his demons, great questions, his worldview. Even having not personally written the libretto, it's evident how in Peter Grimes, Britten put much of himself, with great courage and sincerity. Peter Grimes, in many respects, is a work much more veristic than many operas more or less properly called veristic. It definitely should not be approached with the same mindset as a 19th-century opera, yet, despite its dark, disenchanted, sometimes bare atmospheres, it never seems sterile, jarring, ugly for the sake of being so. Beauty and melody are what define Opera, and Peter Grimes overflows with both.
It strikes immediately with that dry start, almost without any instrumental preamble: Peter Grimes on trial, the contrast between the pedantic phrasing, like that of an opera buffa, of magistrate Swallow and the sincere, tormented, completely unaffected singing of the protagonist, and the poignant duet with the female protagonist, Ellen Orford, that concludes the scene. And it is precisely this sense of immediate, vivid, direct drama that defines the aesthetics of the opera, constantly loaded with powerful moments, be they raw and desperate or tinged with sad lyricism, or bitter irony. The Sea Interludes, instrumental intermezzi that balance and enrich a structure that would otherwise be excessively dominated by recitatives, are strategically placed at every change of scene and atmosphere, and it is precisely on the melody of the first interlude that the wonderful, hypnotic chorus, appearing for the first time at the beginning of the story and then concluding it, assuring a finale of rare expressive power, is based.
Peter Grimes is a tragic character, a man marginalized and oppressed by prejudices and gossip but too stubborn and proud, too chained to his environment and his usual life to truly start anew. The role was written for Peter Pears, a tenor with a small voice, more suited to chamber music than theater and a characteristically nasal timbre, features that made him absolutely unsuited for classical dramatic roles, such as Othello or Guglielmo Ratcliff, yet he is the original Peter Grimes, perfect in acting, masterful in sketching every complex nuance in the character, from his dizzying lyrical peak, the aria "Now the Great Bear and Pleiades" to the dramatic, the harrowing final monologue, in which the orchestra is silent and the protagonist plunges into the abyss of defeat and despair.
Ellen Orford, the kinder soul of the opera, instead is a much more defined, lyric-driven role and not far from certain Puccinian heroines; a wonderful role that illuminates with sensitivity, altruism, and human warmth the cold and murky landscape of this drama; "Let her among you" in the first act, "Glitter of waves" in the second, "Embroidery in childhood" in the third, this character inspires Benjamin Britten melodies closer to traditional melodrama, thus adding another aspect to this opera as multifaceted as it is masterfully organic. Finally, there is the rest of the populace, with its ups and downs, which, just like in reality, in condemning the presumed monster, speaks with a choral voice; speaking of realism, the Methodist preacher and especially the bigoted Mrs. Sedley stand out in odiousness, perfectly embodying common human disvalues.
Peter Grimes is not among the operas I would recommend as a first approach to this art form, yet its beauty and the universality of its message, conveyed by a libretto in which poetry and realism intertwine harmoniously, make it a masterpiece of inestimable value. And to appreciate it fully, I doubt anything could be better than this opera-film from 1969 produced by the BBC, obviously with Peter Pears as Peter Grimes, Heather Harper, extraordinary and criminally underrated, in the role of Ellen, and Britten himself conducting the orchestra. Simply, Perfection.
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