Billy Budd

Benjamin Britten's operas are one of the great bodies of work of the 20th century in any medium, and Billy Budd on any reckoning ranks among the best of these. The all-male setting of Herman Melville's story drew a particularly passionate response from the all-but-publicly gay Britten (who, if not quite "out," was unusually close to it for his era; anyone marginally informed would have known that he and tenor Peter Pears were partners). He wrote the linchpin role of Captain Vere for Pears; one of the role's finest modern proponents has been Philip Langridge (who is generally distinguished in Britten, having also sung Peter Grimes and Quint in The Turn of the Screw). We are lucky that the late Eighties English National Opera production with Langridge, and Thomas Allen as Billy, was captured for BBC television and is now available on DVD. (This should happen more often with plays, musicals, and operas: we can save great stage interpretations and should not hesitate to do so. The Metropolitan Opera's live HD broadcasts in movie theaters are encouraging in that respect.)

Tim Albery's production of Britten's revised two-act version of the opera (the original four-act version is still played occasionally as well) is simple, forceful, and effective, and the difficult score is beautifully conducted by David Atherton. Langridge, 48 at the time of filming (he seems younger), shows complete command of his part musically and dramatically: it's a great performance. Allen, as widely noted, is perfect for Billy vocally but somewhat too mature-looking for a character whose youth is so crucial. (The young American tenor Nathan Gunn later became famous for playing this role shirtless!) In the third great part, the evil master-at-arms Claggart, Richard Van Allan is as dark and foreboding a figure as one might wish for, although one of these days it would be interesting to see a Claggart who seems as self-tormented as other-tormenting. (This is not to say that some might not see Van Allan in just that light; we all see different things in performances.)

Billy Budd ends famously with an aged and remembering Vere alone on stage, ultimately singing his final words without even the orchestra as comfort; and on the DVD the effect is most beautiful because of the cut straight from his final phrase in near-darkness -- "when I, Edward Fairfax Vere, commanded the Indomitable" -- to the rolling of silent credits. In the theater a great Vere such as Langridge and a great production such as this would rightly receive cascades of enthusiastic applause; but with the DVD you are alone with your own thoughts when the opera ends.