'Peter Grimes' by Benjamin Britten at the Princeton Festival

Set in an English fishing village, Britten’s opera has not been performed professionally in our region since a 1987 production at the Opera Company of Philadelphia. (Most of this production’s musicians are drawn from Opera Philadelphia, as it’s now known, and from the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia.) With few opportunities to see or hear this masterpiece, opera lovers have been warned: Do not miss it!

A modern opera with modern themes

Composed in the mid-20th century, Peter Grimes unravels a tangled web of all-too-familiar social issues: Violence, domestic and workplace abuse, the individual vs. society, and the extent to which we use others to achieve our dreams.

This production sets the action in the 1930s, with evocative costumes, often colorful and light, to offset the heaviness of the moral quandaries explored in Montagu Slater’s libretto. Peter Grimes (Alex Richardson) is an ambitious fisherman, whose young apprentice is lost at sea under suspicious circumstances. Despite a judicial warning that he should not take on another assistant, Grimes does so to advance his dreams of success, which include eventually marrying Ellen Orford (Caroline Worra), a widow with compassion and great inner strength. The drama plays out against the actions of the hypocritical townspeople: busybodies, troublemakers, and voyeurs. When it appears Grimes’ second apprentice was beaten and is also lost at sea, Grimes must face the gravest judge of all: his own conscience.

Seamless integration

Tang Yuk’s interpretation reminds us that opera is neither music nor stagecraft, theater nor performance, but a seamless integration of elements. The “Sea Interludes” from Peter Grimes, for example, so familiar as a concert piece, take on a disturbing mantel of power and menace as the onstage drama unfolds. At one point, one of the interludes insinuates itself into a chorus, with orchestra, acting, singing, lighting and sets converging in a moment in time. All our senses, not just hearing or sight, are engaged and enlivened. Britten’s orchestral writing in every scene is almost intolerable in its beauty.

This is a production born of a great single vision. Moments of total silence strategically balance with a cappella solos. Sometimes the chorus resonates at a medium range, but there are several choral selections that are well-nigh deafening in the small theater, as well they should be. There is nothing parlor-polite about this production, which can be rowdy and boisterous when expressing the vices of small town life, and yet it is a production that also uses minimalism to great effect and with perfect timing; in a second act scene, the townspeople sanctimoniously leave church as Peter, Ellen, and John, the new apprentice, have a violent altercation on the beach.

The man in the moon

The work is rich with solos, duets, a female quartet, and of course a remarkable chorus, but for me, there is no more affecting moment than Peter’s third act solo. Defeated but defiant, he stands alone atop scaffolding in white light as though he has become the moon. Richardson’s powerful, well-modulated voice owns the theater in this soliloquy. Indeed, something dark, desperate, and driven in us is confronted and exorcised. I wonder that anyone could draw a breath in those spellbinding minutes.

This production is very well cast, including Kathryn Krasovec, as the busybody Mrs. Sedley, and Jessica Beebe and Sharon Harms as the pub’s irresistible eye candy. Different voices will appeal to listeners with varying tastes and preferences, but I think most will find Richardson and Worra more than satisfactory in the taxing lead roles. Worra brings complexity and depth as Peter’s beloved, torn between attraction and compassion for the tortured man, and recognition that there is evil afoot in town and on the sea.

If I could have changed anything, it would have been to edit the production, perhaps by a dozen minutes. Britten’s work is musical genius at its height, but like Beethoven’s Fidelio (next year’s Princeton Festival pick), even genius can stand a little pruning.