Billy Budd by Benjamin Britten Metropolitan Opera, April 4, 1992 Metropolitan Opera House I had never seen or heard Billy Budd before, but discovered anew what a treat it is to understand the language of an opera: it made sense, I could follow everything, and I could let the whole opera wash over me without effort. It was delightful. The opera was splendid in many ways: strong performances, brilliant stagecraft, evocative playing. While the score isn't especially tuneful, the overall effect was powerful. The growing sense of dread, the blooding of innocence, the sense of loss -- all were palpable for me as the opera progressed. I found superstar Hampson a little off-putting in the title role. His is tall and muscular and imposing, not the picture of innocence I had drawn of Billy Budd. Despite that, he sang well and acted energetically, and was touching in his final scene, huddled in the bowels of the ship and lamenting his condition. James Morris as master-at-arms Jack Claggart was easily the most effective performer. He sang with confidence and exuded a powerful malevolence that pervaded the stage whenever he appeared. (I saw him as Wotan in the Met's televised Ring, and only wish I could have seen him singing it in Seattle.) Graham Clark (Captain Vere) surprised me with his power and pure tone. I hadn't realized the dimensions of that role and so was always slightly surprised when he burst forth with some powerful piece. He is a small man and was surrounded in this production by giants: I imagine Hampson, Morris and the men who played theofficers all were over 6-3. I was taken by one of them, Alan Held as First Lt. Redburn, who sang with a rounded, powerful baritone. (He was just what I have always pictured Hornblower's Lieutenant Bush to have been like.) The set was also a star performer in this opera. Essentially a stage-wide cross-section of the 74-gun warship HMS Indomitable, the set telescoped and folded to reveal different decks of the vessel to frame different scenes, always incorporating the basic outline of the ship. For example, a scene focused on the main deck might give way to one in the captain's cabin by simply folding a lower part of the stage into the main deck and shifting a new setting beneath it. Difficult to explain, the effect was sensational. It worked perfectly. The set and costume design was by William Dudley. John Dexter was in charge of production. I found the orchestra very effective and evocative under Charles Mackerras, more subtle than usual and better modulated to suit the singers. Still, it was loud. It's almost as if conductors get this splendid orchestra under their baton and just can't resist taking it out for a few fast laps to see what it can do. Others: Anthony Laciura (the Novice) was expressive and capable; John Macurdy (Dansker) was convincing and sang well; Bernard Fitch was a dispicable Squeak. ASIDE: We were sitting at the extreme keft of the concert hall, seats 33 and 35 S, and as we sat down, the 60-year old woman sitting just to our right told us, "I just want to warn you, I'm going to be out of here just as soon as the first act is over." It turns out she was headed for the gallery to hear the Texaco Opera Quiz done live between acts, and knew from experience that she had to hustle to get there before the doors closed. I decided to tag along. I followed her at a brisk trot down through the lounge near the press office and into Lizst Hall, where we made it with plenty to spare and were among the 100+ people who attended. There I watched Allen Downes question the panelists. All were seated at a card table with a grey covering that said Texaco in red letterson the side. Each participant had a name plate, as did the pianist. (I remember Charles Purdy and William Weaver, but forget the name of the CD mag editor who was the third panelist.) There were questions about smoking in operas, whether any tenor rolls really allow character development, whether any women kill other women in operas...