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Billy Budd

Published Monday 5 December 2005 at 17:05 by David Blewitt

Productions of Britten’s Billy Budd tend to the steamy. Though Neil Armfield’s staging has its share of half-naked torsos, significant gestures and agonised moments of surfacing repression, it unfolds the narrative with stark clarity and brings imaginative intensity to the big moments - the battle, Squeak’s treachery, Billy’s hanging.

Designer Brian Thomson provides a black enclave, subtly lit by Nigel Levings, with a sky-scape drop-curtain to the rear and trucked steps to access a moving platform on hydraulics, which tilts and turns, rises and falls to establish locale. It is evocative, but would that the movement occasionally let up.

Musically the evening is a triumph. David Litton’s dynamic reading is frequently revelatory. He unveils a wealth of significant detail, finely integrates tempos so that key passages explode with a verbal urgency. Only occasionally does he sacrifice a right balance between pit and stage to visceral orchestral excitement.

I doubt I will ever see a better Billy. Simon Keenlyside subtly colours his noble baritone, weds a lithe athleticism to dramatic flair to forge a searingly truthful portrait of innocence betrayed. The scene in the darbies is heart-breaking.

John Tomlinson, still a vocal titan, is the hollowed-eyed, brooding Claggart, Timothy Robinson an introverted Captain Vere, his full-toned tenor bringing a welcome robustness to the role. Adrian Thompson and Gwynne Howell excel as Red Whiskers and Dansker.

James Edward’s victimised Novice is truly touching and William Berger is moving as his friend. Both field bright, promising tenors. Productions like this Budd should have been the norm during Sean Doran’s late stewardship.

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