Arts & Events

Under the auspices of Cal Performances, Zellerbach Hall hosted a much ballyhooed mixed-media production of English composer Benjamin Britten’s 1964 work Curlew River: A Parable for Church Performance. Featuring noted British tenor Ian Bostridge, Curlew River was given two performances – Friday and Saturday, November 14-15. This work was initially inspired by Britten’s 1956 trip to Japan, where he eagerly steeped himself in traditional Japanese culture. With his lifelong partner Peter Pears, Britten attended two performances in Japan of the 15^th century noh drama Sumidagawa, which tells the tale of a woman driven mad by the kidnapping of her young son, whom she seeks endlessly as she wanders the countryside. Britten was particularly struck by the chanting and austere instrumentation used in this noh drama. Once back in England Britten began to think of setting this story to music that would combine Japanese elements and the style of European medieval mystery plays.  

Britten shared his excitement with poet William Plomer, who, two years later, prepared a first draft of the libretto that eventually became Curlew River.  

Plomer’s first draft was entitled Sumida River, and it retained all the Japanese place names of the original noh drama. However, Britten and Pears realized the danger of making a pastiche of a noh play, so they worked together with Plomer to change the locale to England’s East Anglia and to introduce the notion of a medieval Christian mystery play. Sumida River became Curlew River, and the finished work became a parable of redemption through faith. 

Tenor Ian Bostridge, a major interpreter of Britten’s operas, had never per-formed the role of the Madwoman in Curlew River before this production, which premiered in 2013 at London’s Barbican Centre. But Bostridge finds this work as operatic as anything Britten produced. Bostridge also finds that Curlew River is eminently suited to innovative stagings such as this multi-media production directed by Netia Jones. As the work begins, monks appear as shadowy figures against a triangular shaft of light at the rear of the stage. As the black-robed monks form a procession and shuffle forward, singing in medieval plain chant, video projections of flying gulls (curlews) appear on the screen of light behind them. Throughout Curlew River, images are projected – water, a boat, more gulls, etc.  

Curlew River is austerely scored for seven instruments –flute, viola, harp, horn, double bass, percussion, and chamber organ (played by conductor Martin Fitzpatrick). In this production the orchestra is composed of the Britten Sinfonia, and the chorus of monks is sung by the Britten Sinfonia Voices. Among the singers, the first to step forward is the Abbot, sung by baritone Jeremy White, who addresses the audience/congregation and invites them to witness a mystery play of God’s grace. Next to step forward is the Ferryman, sung by bass-baritone Mark Stone, who sings of his work ferrying people across the Curlew River. Today, he says, is a special day, for many people are traveling to a grave that has become a kind of shrine. Suddenly, offstage, a voice is heard. A traveler, sung by bass Neal Davies, says it is the voice of the Madwoman, sung by tenor Ian Bostridge. She scorns those who mock her for her seemingly crazy wanderings.  

This much of the plot I gleaned from a quick perusal of the program notes 

prior to the show. I must say, however, that the lack of supertitles made it extremely difficult to follow the development of the Madwoman’s journey. Although Curlew River is sung in English, very little of the text came across. With the house lights dimmed, making it impossible to read the libretto, the audience was literally left in the dark regarding what words were sung. The medieval-style monophonic chanting had a mind-numbing effect. I saw several audience members nodding off. Those of us who were able to set aside any effort to understand the words and simply enjoy the beautiful singing, found ourselves caught up in an almost hypnotic spell cast by this austere music. 

Ian Bostridge was superb as the Madwoman. Narrow-shouldered and slight of build, Bostridge looked the part of a gaunt, grief-stricken woman desperately seeking her lost child; and Bostridge’s high tenor and frequent use of falsetto were beautifully effective in conveying the Madwoman’s emotional plight. In the end, a vision of her dead son appears to her from the grave, at first a shadowy figure against the white screen. Then the son, a boy soprano sung by David Schneidinger, steps forward and assures his mother they will meet one day in heaven. She achieves a sense of closure and regains her sanity. Then the Abbott claims a miracle of God’s grace has been witnessed. This Christian overlay seems artificially imposed on Curlew River, and one may object to this Christian appropriation of a story firmly rooted in Japanese Buddhist culture. One may also bridle at the Abbott’s obtrusive preachifying, which seeks to impose a Christian interpretation on the Madwoman’s sense of closure. Yet I suppose if one sets aside its noh origins, Curlew River succeeds in approximating something of the medieval Christian mystery play. In the end, Curlew River sits somewhat awkwardly astride two vastly different cultures, paying homage to each of them.