Albert Herring is one of Benjamin Britten’s more fortunate “outsider” protagonists: he emerges not only alive, but appreciably happier, from an opera whose dissection of class conflict and small-mindedness comes in much fizzier form than Peter Grimes or Billy Budd. Crowned Loxford’s “May King” in the absence of any local girl sufficiently chaste to be Queen, unworldly Albert’s modest descent from virtue into vice – a night on the tiles precipitated by some spiked lemonade – provokes outrage from the pillars of his community; but for the young man himself, and the postwar generation he represents, that hazily remembered pub crawl heralds a new sense of self-possession.
Scored for chamber orchestra, the opera is nevertheless one of Britten’s most musically extravagant, brimming with pastiche and stylistic flourishes, and Eric Crozier’s libretto, which transports a Maupassant short story from Normandy to Suffolk, is a similarly dense, colourful affair. Giles Havergal’s production, revived by Elaine Tyler-Hall, wisely resists further embellishment. Staged in the round in the bijou Howard Assembly Room, with characteristically slick designs by Leslie Travers – plastic grass and fruit crates serving as parlour, shop, and street – it succeeds instead by drawing its audience irresistibly close, for an intimate view of village politics in all their cacophonous glory.
Until Albert finds his voice, it’s the fearsome Lady Billows who dominates, and soprano Judith Howarth is a riot of strop and stridency in the role: Emmeline Lucas meets Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She’s delectably partnered by Heather Shipp’s warmly sung, campily censorious housekeeper Florence, and flanked by her upstanding committee – vicar, policeman, schoolmistress, mayor – each of whom navigates Britten’s complex ensembles while making their individual marks: Amy Freston’s skittish, silvery Miss Wordsworth is one standout, as is Paul Nilon’s lavish-toned Mr Upfold.
Down on the high street, Dominic Sedgwick brings easy charisma to butcher’s boy Sid, while Katie Bray is outstanding as spirited, self-willed Nancy; her duet with Claire Pascoe’s Mrs Herring, in which they grapple with the possibility of Albert’s death, sees both artists find real humanity in a moment that could easily topple into farce. As Albert himself, Dafydd Jones makes an auspicious company debut, his glossy, high-lying tenor ideally placed for the role, and there’s a dry humour to his portrayal, which makes it clear that this Albert is no “village simpleton” at all.
A chamber-sized orchestra benefits from the up-close-and-personal approach, too: both players and conductor Garry Walker are in full view at one end of the set, maintaining admirable contact with the cast despite the unconventional set-up, and revelling in Britten’s playful, virtuosic writing. Albert Herring might go to pieces when all eyes turn upon him – but the forces of Opera North emphatically do not.
