Britten’s The Turn of the Screw is a masterpiece of sinister implication that takes an original ghost story by Henry James and finds a musical framing that is both compelling and uncomfortable whatever the theatrical setting. I remember talking to an elderly friend who attended one of the very first performances at the Cambridge Arts Theatre, an intimate, claustrophobic venue. He recalled that the moment when Peter Pears appeared in the box next to him to sing his melismatic greeting to the boy Miles sent a visceral shiver through the whole theatre. While there were no moments like that in as vast a space as the Coliseum, music and staging still combined to engage and stimulate the imagination of the audience in discomfiting ways.
Director and designer Isabella Bywater has chosen to relocate the drama to a medical institution where the portagonist of the opera – the governess – is located in later life. She then recalls and re-enacts her fateful encounter at Bly with two young charges, Miles and Flora. The set design reflects this choice with a medical ward providing the central core structure, and an office space sliding into place for class room scenes. Video projections in black and white deliver the images of the remote country estate that is the purported setting. Windows provide the elevated levels from which the ghosts of the former governess, Miss Jessel, and the valet, Peter Quint, begin their insinuating and creepy interventions.
It is surely a correct decision to leave a lot underdefined – are the ghosts real presences or an aspect of the governess’ mental perturbation? Why is the children’s guardian so disengaged, and why is the governess so obsessed with him? Are the children the victims of abuse or is this again a complex projection? Because there are so many loose, anxiety-provoking ends to the production the effect on the audience is all the disturbing and open-ended.
But within this suggestive vagueness there is musical tightness and precision. The orchestra under Duncan Ward’s crisp direction sounds larger than only 13 players, despite the cavernous spaces of the Coliseum. The tingling contrasts of instrumental timbres and the rigorous variation structures of the writing provide sharp contrasts between all the short scenes with great economy of effect and decisive impact.
And above this ensemble float some very fine vocal performances. Ailish Tynan holds the production together in the lead role with both warmth and conviction. Her affection for the children and determination to succeed shine through in the early scenes, before that confidence crumbles visibly both from within and without to be replaced by an obsessional quality that suggests she is far more than a purely innocent victim of sinister circumstances. The complexity of her portrayal and its soaring vocal intensity impresses and ensures the multi-layered impact of the whole.
In this she is ably supported by Gweneth Ann Rand as the loyal, grounded housekeeper, Mrs Grose, and wholly characterful singing and believable acting from the two children, Flora and Miles, played on press night by Holly Hylton and Jerry Louth. The disintegration and breakdown of the latter is particularly moving, so that the final scene is even more effective than is usual. As the two malevolent and uneasy ghosts, Robert Murray and Eleanor Dennis are entirely plausible, and more visibly bullying and abusive than is usually shown. Alan Oke delivers the prologue with dry clarity, as befits a distanced narrator figure.
The composer was surprised at the success of this piece, which has turned out in succeeding decades to be one of his most performed and revisited scores. I hear and feel different sounds and emotions each time I attend a performance, and this production is no exception: it is a tribute to its disturbing fecundity that directors return to it so often with such variety of interpreations.
Benjamin Britten
Libretto: Myfanwy Piper
Dicrector: Isabella Bywater
Conductor: Duncan Ward
Cast: Eleanor Dennis, Holly Hylton, Jerry Louth, Robert Murray, Alan Oke, Gweneth Ann Rand, Ailish Tynan
Until: 31 October 2024
2hrs 10 mins with interval
Photo Credit: Manuel Harlan