The real stars of this production of Death in Venice are the young trapeze artists who twirl, swirl, swing, bend and revolve, often suspended in mid-air, balancing, turning cartwheels and pirouetting with gymnastic ease and balletic poise.
They are all prize-winning performers and I would gladly watch a whole evening of the graceful feats of Antony César, Villhelmiina Sinervo and Selma Hellman. Adding this to the production is a brilliant idea, because it livens up the dull stretches of Britten's somewhat long and monotonous opera. These dancers added the magic we need.
The trouble with Death in Venice is that it is a tragedy that ends in tragedy. Great tragedies like La Boheme or Romeo and Juliet start out with scenes of life, exuberance and vitality, then take a dark turn. That provides contrast and variety. It also gives the tragedy, when it comes, more impact. Death in Venice is glum and bleak from the outset, dominated in every scene by the tenor voice of Aschenbach.
The only women's voices are in the rather ghoulish chorus scenes, and the children never speak. Apollo is a rather reedy counter-tenor and there are various bass and baritone voices.
Marc le Brocq survived his marathon rôle as Aschenbach - a character who, by the way, does not deserve the slightest sympathy. Anybody who doubts that Benjamin Britten was a paedophile should read the reminiscences of those who knew him personally. The research of Prof. Ian Pace reveals an ugly picture of Britten's close links to PIE founder Peter Righton, pederast author Michael Davidson, and even to the Kray twins. Harry Morris remembered Britten making blatant advances to him when he was 13. Luckily Harry was able to fend him off with a chair.
The Polish family in Death in Venice seem curiously cut off, impervious to the cholera outbreak, and they never notice the elderly paedophile stalking and ogling their son.
The production continues on tour and booking details can be found on the WNO website. (See below)
