Why I Love ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’
In the light of Scottish Opera's new production of Britten's opera ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream’, I thought I would have a look at this wonderful masterpiece, written in 1960, which has played a huge part in my career.
First performed at the tiny Jubilee Hall in Aldeburgh on 11th June 1960, it has rapidly become one of Benjamin Britten’s most loved operas, and indeed, in many people’s view, it almost transcends Shakespeare’s original play. By this, I don’t mean that it is intrinsically better than the original, since the opera’s essence lies solely in the magical play devised by the Bard of Stratford upon Avon, but there are many folk who now prefer to watch the opera, which alters none of Shakespeare’s text (apart from one phrase), than watch the play. This is because the music so enhances the play that it moves it into a different dimension. Britten wrote so much great music of all types that I hesitate to award subjective honours, but for me, and not just because I know it so well, it represents the peak of his art, his crowning glory.
My own part in the opera’s history began, when as a young novice singer at Scottish Opera in 1982 I sang the role of Theseus in the last performances of a production by Toby Robertson, which had started out in 1972, conducted by Roderick Brydon. Mr Robertson was well known to the Scottish public as the director of the Prospect Theatre Company, which had had notable successes at the Edinburgh Festival. Coincidentally, I had sold programmes and attended every Festival performance of ‘King Lear’ at the Assembly Hall on the Mound, starring Timothy West in one of the most celebrated productions ever seen at the Festival, staged by Toby Robertson and the Prospect Company.
Many of the original cast from 1972 were still there in 1982, including Bill McCue as Bottom, Frank Egerton as Flute and James Bowman as Oberon, and the great Britten expert Stuart Bedford, who had worked closely with the composer in the latter part of his life, was the fabulous conductor. The production was still marvellous, and the Rustics’ scenes were fantastically directed, although many of Toby Robertson’s original nuances were lost in the restaging. I remember that, as Theseus, I was supposed to make many theatrical gestures in my great opening peroration, “Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace”, but by 1982 the reasoning behind these gestures had been lost or forgotten, so I did a lot of meaningless arm waving, which can’t have enhanced my performance much! Nonetheless, it was my first important role at Scottish Opera, and I received some of my best reviews up to that stage in my career.
As I have pointed out elsewhere, this production gave me one of my best stage stories of the past 40 years, when in one of the Stage and Orchestra rehearsals, a young chorus understudy had stepped in for the indisposed Claire Livingstone singing the role of my wife to be, Hippolyta. She was understandably excited to be on stage in a major role and mistook her entrance for another one. Finding herself alone on stage with James Bowman, the finest Oberon of that era, she looked around in confusion and sidled up to James, whispering; “are you Brian Bannatyne-Scott’s understudy?” “No,” replied the illustrious countertenor, “I’m James Bowman!” Compounding her error, the poor girl in confusion spluttered; “Well, whoever you are, are you the understudy for Theseus?” Mortified, the great man, horrified to be mistaken for a 27 year old unknown bass, quickly and in some dudgeon let her know that she was mistaken and that she should leave the stage forthwith, all delivered in a whisper that was not at all Shakespearian!
That production, despite the arm-waving, set the standard for all the future versions of MND I appeared in, and the bar was set high. Britten and Pears created something special in their opera, and their ruthless cutting of the original (the whole first act is omitted) served to focus the audience’s attention on the juxtapositions of three particular elements – the four (and eventually six) lovers, the fairy world of Oberon and Tytania, and the rustic “hard-handed men” who are to entertain the duke with their play, ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’.
The lovers demonstrate how love turns decent people into monsters at times, as the various comings and goings, tiffs, quarrels and reconciliations, both aided and contaminated by magical intervention, continue throughout the opera. To be honest, these lovers’ sections can overstay their welcome sometimes, even with excellent performances from the singers, and I’m sure the thought police will one day investigate the ‘Heightist’ conflict between Helena and Hermia. I have been, however, enormously impressed in recent productions by the physical comedy which the four lovers have indulged in, while singing the most complicated music. Indeed, I have found the vocal lines in MND some of the hardest in Britten’s oeuvre. The composer was brilliant at writing music that sounded modern but was ultimately singable and comprehensible. He pushed the singers to the limit in this piece, and when I sang my first Bottom in Canada in 2016, I found the role extremely hard to learn accurately, to the extent that I wondered if Britten was having a joke at the expense of the first Bottom, Owen Brannigan. Whereas, in most Britten roles, he makes your note available somewhere in the chord, he seems to have decided with Bottom to make you work much harder. Mind you, it may simply have been that I came to learn Bottom at the age of 61, and my faculties had slowed down somewhat. I had a conversation with one of the great modern exponents of the role recently, who couldn’t understand my problems, but I maintain, both from my experience, and from the experience of observing many great singers trying to sing Bottom accurately, and failing, that I have a point!
Returning to the lovers, and now adding the Duke and Duchess in the final act, it must be said that, particularly in the great final scene at Theseus and Hippolyta's nuptials, their comments and antics are quite ghastly. Shakespeare clearly had little time for them, and Britten and Pears did nothing to modify their patronising, cruel and unkind reactions to the rustics’ play. I always tried to play Theseus as well-meaning, and at least he attempts to limit the interruptions which the other lovers keep making, but it’s a hard task. Even he fails to conceal his contempt for the actions of the lower orders, and his patronising attitude is only slightly less nauseating than his friends. Having played both sides of the divide (I often sang Snug, as well as Bottom), it was sometimes quite hard not to jump into the aristocratic group, and smack them about. As Puck says earlier in the piece, “what fools these mortals be!”, and this sums up our reaction to these pompous asses.
The influence of the fairy world is, I think, the crucial aspect that defines Britten’s opera, and the sound world that he created, using coloratura soprano, countertenor, boys’ voices and a spoken role for Puck, was a stroke of genius. Not only the vocal parts, but the orchestration, which evokes the dark arboreal world of the enchanted forest, represent a source of creativity of the highest order. From the very first notes, deep in the strings of the orchestra, Britten transports us into this magical realm, where unseen immortal beings toy with human society, and where normal ideas of morality and decorum are largely absent. Although the fairies are deeply loveable, the quarrels between Tytania and Oberon, like the behaviour of the mortals who they pretend to despise, are most unpleasant, fighting over the possession of the little changeling boy, and Oberon’s treatment of Puck is cruel and vindictive. However, this aspect is neutralised by the clear depiction of a society apart, an amoral group who nonetheless are at one with nature, understanding the way the forest and its glades are, like the fairy world, timeless and ever present.
Both Shakespeare and Britten transport us to a very British woodland environment, with no suggestion of the Athenian setting the words speak of. The characters represent an English aristocracy and a very English rural tradition, and even Puck and the fairies come down to us from folk tales of ‘Olde England’. Apparently, the idea of Puck as an adolescent tumbler came from a visit by Britten to Stockholm, where he was mesmerised by a troupe of child tumblers and acrobats, which inspired him to create this very active personification of pre-pubertal mischief. More recent productions have played about with the characterisation of Puck to a certain extent, but Britten gives him such individual percussive music every time he appears, that there is little artistic point in straying from the original concept. In fact, often the most difficult casting dilemma is to find a tumbler who can speak the lines correctly, as he has so many iconic verses to say that a tumbler who is a mumbler is not what is required!
The music for the fairies is cleverly devised for children who are reasonably musical, and the vocal range and the comparative simplicity of the writing is perfect for schoolchildren. The solo lines for the individual fairies are clear and precise, and I have been impressed wherever I have sung in MND by the high standards I have come across. It must be a great introduction to the world of opera and the stage to be cast as a fairy, and it was only when I sang Bottom in Canada that I realised how hard it must be for the kids in the show.
I mentioned earlier that Oberon has a vicious side to him, but much more important is the wonderful music that Britten wrote for the countertenor. “I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows” is the beginning of one of the most beautiful and evocative arias ever written, and, sung by a great singer like James Bowman, it is a truly magical moment in an already magical score. I have been lucky in my career to have sung in MND with some very fine Oberons. Apart from James with Scottish Opera, I have worked with Brian Asawa on the Philips recording with Sir Colin Davis, and, in Aix and Beijing, with Lawrence Zazzo. Britten’s original decision to cast Alfred Deller as Oberon was perhaps the most important vocal choice he made, and its boldness is hard to fathom nowadays, when we are so used to hearing countertenors in opera. I refer you to my recent article on EMR about the countertenor voice for a more in depth look at the historical significance of Britten’s choice of countertenor for Oberon.
Finally, we come to the Rustics, those “hard handed men who work in Athens”, as they are described by Hippolyta in the last act. En passant, I have just noticed that Hippolyta in the original 1960 production was sung by Johanna Peters, the fine Scottish contralto, who was Head of Opera at the Guildhall when I studied there in the late 1970s. We first meet these artisans in Act One, as they convene to learn that they are to perform a play at the Duke’s wedding party. This idea of an ‘Am Dram’ presentation of Pyramus and Thisbe is already risible, and when we discover that these rustic thespians are indeed terrible actors, the scene is set for much hilarity. There is a Rustics’ scene in Act 2, as their first rehearsal goes awry with the intervention of Puck, who transforms Bottom the weaver, and star of the show, into an ass. There is much visual humour here, as well as linguistic fun and games with Bottom and Ass predominant, showing us that little has changed from Shakespeare’s time to our own.
Each rustic is carefully characterised vocally, and I had great fun in several productions as Snug the Joiner, bringing out the slow-witted but lovable nature of the fellow. I always thought of some of the characters played by the late Bernard Bresslaw in the ‘Carry On’ films as inspiration for my Snug, and his combination of a big man with a small brain seemed the perfect model for a character who asks for more time to learn his part, only to be told there are no words, and all he needs to do is roar! He was a great character to play, and, as with most funny parts, the straighter I played him, the more laughs and sympathy I received.
The actual play that the Rustics perform for the Duke and his rude friends, ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’, is a fantastic pastiche of operatic conventions and ridiculous, meaningless vocal embellishment, and Britten had enormous fun lampooning operatic traditions, including the dramatic tenor arioso given to Flute/Thisbe and the never ending death scene of Bottom/Pyramus, including the great line ”Now am I dead”, sung by Pyramus after his comic suicide. However, Britten achieves the same miraculous reaction as Shakespeare, from both the stage audience and the actual paying audience, of deep empathy for the actors, despite the terrible acting, and, once the formalities of the comic dance and leave-taking of the Rustics and the going to bed of the lovers are over, the atmosphere is prepared for the magical ending, with the entrance of the fairies, the reconciliation of Oberon and Tytania, and Puck’s mercurial stage sweeping.
It was a great honour and privilege to be able finally to sing Bottom when I was invited back for a third time to my favourite opera company, Pacific Opera Victoria, on Vancouver Island in Canada. As readers will know from previous articles, I first sang with POV in 2010, when I sang La Roche in ‘Capriccio’ and a subsequent return to sing Falstaff confirmed my view of this marvellous company as a jewel in Canada’s operatic crown. So when they invited me back for a third time to sing Bottom, I was delighted to accept, particularly as part of my contract included a flight for Fran to accompany me. As usual, there was a fantastic cast assembled of primarily Canadian singers of the finest quality, and the only downside was that the director and I didn’t see eye to eye on the role. He seemed more interested in making my performance, as Bottom transformed into an ass, a perfectly detailed study in animal movement and behaviour. I was more interested in the psychology of someone thus transformed than in his mechanical movements and gestures, and a lot of time was wasted arguing over physical twitches and reactions. Nonetheless, it was a great experience to sing this marvellous role, and to play all the nuanced facets of this larger than life character. It was fascinating to discover, as part of my research for the role, the 1935 film of the play, starring James Cagney as Bottom, with Mickey Rooney as the 15 year old Puck. To my delight, I found that the director of the film, Max Reinhardt, had been the person on whom Richard Strauss had based his character, La Roche, in ‘Capriccio’, the role I had played on my first appearance with POV. This seemed a perfect coincidence.
My usual caveat about recording recommendations can be dispensed with on this occasion, as my recording, singing Theseus, with Sir Colin Davis is obviously the only choice! With Robert Lloyd as Bottom, Brian Asawa as Oberon and Sylvia McNair as Tytania, this is a lovely recording, made in 1996 after two performances in the Barbican Hall, London, which were semi-staged with costumes by the Queen’s dressmaker, Hardy Amies. As the top aristocrat on stage, I had a gorgeous suit which, alas, I had to give back. You should also listen to Britten’s own recording on Decca from 1966, and, if for nothing else, James Bowman’s Oberon on Richard Hickox’s recording from 1993.
Cover photo: James Glossop
