Death in Venice

by Benjamin Britten (libretto by Myfanwy Piper)

seen at Covent Garden on 6 December 2019

Richard Farnes conducted Mark Padmore as Gustav von Aschenbach and Gerald Finley as the seven characters who influence him, with Leo Dixon dancing the role of Tadzio, in David McVicar's new production of Britten's last opera, based on Thomas Mann's novella Der Tod in Venedig.

This work, the distillation of Britten's life-long fascination with the nature of artistic inspiration and its relation to the beauty of innocence exemplified in adolescent males, runs a number of risks: the subject matter; the episodic nature of the story; the intense interiority of the novella on which it is based (it has very little dialogue). Britten resorted to a generally austere orchestration, with log passages of expository or ruminative recitative on the part of von Aschenbach, while dramatising the enigma of Tadzio by making the role entirely silent, personified by a dancer. 

In a production such as this, with evocative and fluid sets designed by Vicki Mortimer, with two singers of great talent and experience, and a young dancer of superb grace and poise, the result is compelling and powerful. Von Aschenbach appears in his study in a pool of light on a darkened stage; in his walk in the Munich cemetery he is surrounded by dark-clothed figures with black umbrellas. Even in Venice, the stage is often dark - an immense black gondola ferries him to and from the Lido, and pillars and archways give an eerie sense of claustrophobia in the city itself. Apart from a few shafts of light if hotel windows or balcony doors are briefly opened, only the beach is sunny, and even then this is sometimes framed by balustrades. The boundless energy of the boys playing on this beach provides a bracing contrast to the gloom surrounding von Aschenbach as his obsession with the beautiful Tadzio leads him towards degradation and self-disgust.

Even at his lowest ebb, tricked out with dyed hair and rouge on his cheeks, the once fastidious writer can recall the seductive arguments about love expounded by Socrates in Plato's Phaedrus dialogue, and Mark Padmore sings this wondrous evocation with disarming simplicity and perfect control at the end of a commanding performance, an impressive feat considering that he is on stage almost always and frequently singing. Soon after, the almost godlike figure of Tadzio, wonderfully embodied by Leo Dixon, seemed almost to float above the stage in self-absorbed pirouettes as the writer collapses and dies, and the music fades to the merest tinkling of a xylophone.

I think that I preferred the visual style of English National Opera's production (2006 and 2011), designed by Tom Pye using a series of screens with fuzzy projections and often dazzling light. The more definite elements of the set at Covent Garden required the frequent use of a dark gauze curtain to mask the movement of furniture, but had the advantage of emphasising the gloomy intensity of von Aschenbach's predicament. 

On a musical level, this production could hardly be bettered, with excellent orchestral playing and strong support from the chorus and the minor characters. I cannot mention the Voice of Apollo by name, as the advertised singer was replaced for this performance and I failed to remember his name from the screen announcement in the foyer; but the severe countertenor part added a suitable brilliant clarity to the high aesthetic demands made by the god of poetry. 

It was a great evening.