Seeing the Boston Lyric Opera’s in the and perusing the press literature on their demographics, outreach, and special events, is enough to convince me that they’re moving the the direction every opera company (and for that matter, every high-culture producer) wants to move in. Upon close inspection, this Castle reveals some kitschy ornamentation–painted on windows and doors by (their website tells half the story)–but these designs are relegated to the back of the house, near the coat check. The front of the house, where the opera was staged, made for a perfect “annex” in which to stage Britten’s classic. In fact, the venue was the set. BLO’s additions were minimal; a low runway stage with a black and white tiled geometric pattern around an above-ground orchestra pit, the governess’ desk, and a projection screen which neither or seemed to like. The rest of the slack was picked up by this cavernous space (I’ll refer you to as well as for the details), with its massive stone backdrop and proportionately massive clock above the stage–not that I was looking at the clock.
Overall, I liked the BLO’s use of video (illustrated in the photos below). The wide screen complemented the angles and width of the stage and its size did justice to the expansive space that brought this chamber opera right out of the chamber. What we saw was usually straight out of 1970s video art in its aesthetic and content, with cast members performing pedestrian acts like getting dressed, playing with toy soldiers, or drinking tea. Of course, Peter Campus didn’t shoot in a widescreen format that rivals CinemaScope. The projections, other than giving us something to look at during Britten’s instrumental interludes, were economically used in drumming up clever (on the part of director Sam Helfrich) counterpoints between the action on-stage and the action off, in this opera which really doesn’t supply us with enough information to fuel much action, but rather depends on communicating impressions of suspense, foreboding, spookiness, and the general sense that something is askew at Bly House. The videos enhance this, providing us with scenes not described in the libretto and even a few flashbacks to before the governess’ arrival. The reliability of the video’s narrative is, like so much else in the opera, never confirmed.
The “family’s” trip to church is countered by shots of Quint and Miss Jessel in bed on the movie screen. Quint and Miss Jessel make out on-stage (à la A Streetcar Named Desire with Quint’s wife beater and cigarette) while the governess and Mrs. Grose drink tea in silence on-screen. The most explicit artistic intention in the production was to intensify the opera’s sexual content. In addition to the sexualized relationship between Quint and Miss Jessel, Emily Pulley’s governess not only desires the guardian’s guidance, but develops a desire for him, singing about this mysterious uncle as she lay provocatively sprayed out on the stage floor. The production certainly didn’t tread lightly over the implied relationship between Quint and Miles and there’s even some suggestive clutching of Flora by Miss Jessel.
Flora (soprano Kathryn Skemp) and Miles (treble Aidan Gent) say their prayers while Quint (tenor Vale Rideout) and Miss Jessel (soprano Rebecca Nash) have an intimate moment behind the scenes
All this nebulous sexuality pulls one deeper into the opera’s mystery. We hear of “tragedy,” “revenge,” “evil,” and some incident at Miles’ boarding school, but nothing is ever explained or resolved, neither in music or plot. It’s this Hitchcockian lack of information that makes it so intriguing. It’s really all about creepiness and confusion; not the feeling that something is behind the door, but more that there’s something around the whole room. The fact that no “evils” are spoken of, gives opera companies a lot of freedom, and while some operas date themselves with plot elements inapplicable and nonsensical to modern audiences, The Turn of the Screw avoids such problems with the fact that evil (if left unsaid and as an abstract concept) is timeless.
We got a particularly ghostly Quint (Vale Rideout) and a bone chilling explicit spookiness about Miles (Ryan Williams & Aidan Gent). Flora, much because she was sung by adult Kathryn Skemp with a powerful adult soprano, seemed like one of Grady’s twin girls in The Shining. As she played cat’s cradle, she maintained an aloofness only matched by the ghosts. Flora, with particularly creepiness, carried a stuffed pig in front of her as she and Miles marched and sung to Tom, Tom, the Piper’s Son, in a similar manner, they rose up the set’s steps with their hands clasped in prayer on their way to church–not in innocence, but with a creepiness worthy of a better psychological horror flick.
Also very much amplified here, was the battle between the servants to possess the children in artificial family units to compensate for their lack of children (and the children’s lack of parents). In one particularly well directed scene Quint, Miss Jessel, and the children position themselves in a Sears Portrait Studio family pose, as the two interlopers attempt to abduct the children into the blinding Poltergeist-esque light on the left side of the stage, which Quint first emanated in his initial appearance to the governess. Their family portrait is broken by the governess rising to the stage up the shadowy stairs on the stage’s right. The production accentuates the governess’s doting and possessiveness of Miles, creating this bizarre and sexualized family dynamic.
I’ve ignored a lot here, as it’s such a rich opera and was such a rich and innovative production. I’ll close with compliments to conductor Andrew Bisantz and his musicians, particularly Ina Zdorovetchi on harp and Damien Francoeur-Krzyzek on piano & celesta, and the cast in general for their wonderful renditions of Britten’s 12-tone harmonies.
Mrs. Gross (mezzo-soprano Joyce Castle) frets while Miss Jessel (soprano Rebecca Nash) and Quint (tenor Vale Rideout) indulge Flora (soprano Kathryn Skemp) and Miles (treble Aiden Gent) behind the scenes
