Albert Herring

Description

Having taken the operatic world by storm with his shatteringly tragic masterpiece Peter Grimes in 1945, Britten followed it only two years later with Albert Herring, a light-hearted, gently ironic comedy. The two operas, though obviously different, share certain elements--notably the locale, a small English village, where both protagonists are treated as social misfits by the meddlesome, class- and moral-obsessed inhabitants. But unlike Peter Grimes, whom the villagers ultimately destroy, Albert Herring asserts himself and breaks free. Librettist Eric Crozier regards the characters with humor and affection, and Britten's music captures the essence of each personality perfectly; through his masterful evocation of color, mood, and atmosphere, the 12 instruments become part of the action, laughing and chuckling at and with the characters. The story concerns the village elders' failure to find a girl virtuous enough to be crowned May Queen, so a May King is proposed: the innocent, somewhat simple-minded Albert, his mother's "squashed down and reined in" drudge. After drinking a secretly spiked lemonade, he rebels and, furious at being made a laughing-stock, vanishes, plunging the village into panic and despair. When he suddenly returns, muddy and disheveled, and the people turn on him, he defies them--to the older ones' fury and the young ones' delight. The opera abounds with beguilingly lovely melodies in simple children's songs, arias, duets, and ensembles, culminating in a "Threnody" lamenting Albert's disappearance. There are many echoes of Grimes, and Albert is represented by a horn call reminiscent of the one in Britten's Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings; he even whistles it as he runs off. The performance is beyond praise; Bastow and Finlay are outstanding, as are the instrumental soloists. Written for Peter Pears, all Britten's tenor parts are haunted by the memory of his voice and style, but Gillett makes Albert his own, vocally and dramatically. Note that libretto is not included. --Edith Eisler