Benjamin Britten: A Midsummer Night's Dream

"To say the truth, reason and love keep little company together these days."

Not for nothing is a four-poster bed centre-stage in Blackwater Valley Opera’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. After all, what other aspect of the human psyche can match the libido when it comes to unleashing chaos?

Benjamin Britten may have chosen William Shakespeare’s comedy in haste to meet the deadline for the reopening of the Aldeburgh Jubilee Hall for the town’s 1960 festival, paring back the action—with the help of librettist Peter Pears—to a more digestible length, but the music tells another story. Or rather, three of them.

The ambiguous shenanigans of the four mortal lovers—Lysander (tenor, Peter O’Reilly) and Hermia (mezzo-soprano, Sarah Richmond), Demetrius (baritone, Gregory Feldmann) and Helena (soprano, Amy Ní Fhearraigh); the otherworldly machinations of fairy King Oberon (countertenor, Iestyn Morris) and fairy Queen Tytania (soprano Ami Hewitt); and the earthy theatrics of the six rustics, all dictate constant modulations in orchestral dynamics that reflect the amorous discord, the supernatural spheres and the buffoonery that come in and out of play.

Musically, Britten’s score is a multi-faceted balancing act of bold contours, sideways shifts and subtle colorations—wonderfully executed by twenty-seven-piece Irish Chamber Orchestra under the steerage of conductor David Brophy. The festival’s decision to move the orchestra from its stage-left nook of years gone by, to the traditional position below the stage was a sound one—quite literally. Hopefully, it has found its permanent nest.

Everything to follow unspools from the falling out of Oberon and Tytania—a rupture mirrored in nature: virus-carrying animals, fallow fields and flooding, the seasons all out of sync. “We are their parents…” they chime knowingly of imbalances in the natural order—mutations all too real to a contemporary audience living in these strange times.

Outside Lismore Castle’s courtyard walls and above the arena’s marquee canopy, sunshine and rain chase each other’s tails as though enchanted by this supernatural tale. At times the rain falls heavily enough to challenge vocal projection, particularly of countertenor Morris, whose performance nevertheless is spellbinding.

Of the cast only Puck (Barry McGovern) is miked—an odd a decision as the casting of the venerable actor in the role of the mischievous spright. The not-so-sprightly McGovern (77) is more Gandalf than prancing hobgoblin, wielding his feather like a wizard’s wand in telling synchronicity with percussionist Stephen Kelly’s deft ornamentation.

Some of Britten’s most affecting music accompanies the forest and its ethereal dwellers, music evocative of the atmosphere of Marius Constant’s theme to The Twilight Zone. And things do get weird. A forest flower provides the drug that induces amorous devotion—and confusion in buckets—with enough coupling and decoupling going on to rival Mozart’s Così Fan Tutte.

Britten may or may not be guilty of sending up Italian operatic convention, but where there is no doubt is in the charge of his lampooning of amateur dramatics. Director Patrick Mason’s fluid handling and lightness of touch ensure that fun is never far from the surface.

The six rustics, arguing over their roles in their play within a play, do entertain most royally. Notable is the turn of bass-baritone Dominic Veilleux as Bottom, who, to general merriment, retains a little of the ass’s traits even after the animals’ head—transplanted on him by Puck—has been removed. Equally persuasive is tenor Conor Prendiville as Flute the bellows mender. Obliged to play the part of lady Thisby, his clunky female gait, jarring off-kilter notes and intermittent breaking voice contain more than a little of Stan Laurel’s blueprint.

Throughout the twists and turns, the four leads playing the disharmonious lovers are uniformly excellent, with Richmond commanding throughout. Impressive too, is Hewitt, whose delivery is potent and seductive. The twenty or so fairies played by children from Piccolo Lasso and Music Generation Waterford are perhaps a little static at times for forest sprites, though they sing beautifully.

In the final scene, the Duke of Athens (baritone Christopher Cull) and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons (mezzo-soprano Gemma Ní Bhriain) recognize the couples’ recoupling before enduring the rustics play with suitably vexed expressions and sarcastic asides.

There is little not to like about Blackwater Valley Opera’s staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Atmospheric lighting (Paul Keogan), costumes (Catherine Fay) that lasso the styles of Elizabethan times, the tweedy 1940s and contemporary British monarchy play sympathetically to the interweaving story threads. There may be a shortage of arias, but musical highlights still abound, with Britten—and the Irish Chamber Orchestra— rising to the task when Shakespeare’s pen is at its most profound.

A highly satisfying production, full of wit and grace, that invites reacquaintance both with Shakespeare’s play and with Britten’s adventurous score.


Photo credit: Frances Marshall