Peter Grimes is very much the English National Opera’s own opera. It was the work the company (in its previous guise, as Sadler’s Wells Opera) chose to recommence operations with at the end of World War II, thereby re-establishing both Benjamin Britten and English opera on the international map. Today, it is hailed by many as simply England’s greatest opera. And yet it was Stuart Skelton, an Australian-born singer living in Florida who last year gave what the Guardian’s Andrew Clements called “probably the most complete Grimes in London since Jon Vickers at Covent Garden in the late 1970s.” The Observer’s Fiona Maddocks said: “The Australian tenor radiates a musical intelligence as electrifying as it is heartbreaking,” while David Alden’s English National Opera production was hailed as “the must-see operatic event of the entire 2008/9 London season,” by Hugh Canning in the Sunday Times. The acclaimed production has duly been nominated for next week’s Olivier awards, with Skelton himself up for the outstanding achievement in opera category.
Written for Britten’s partner Peter Pears, the title role in Peter Grimes has been approached via the English lyric tenor tradition by successive generations of artists — the late Philip Langridge among them. But an alternative tradition was created in the late 1960s by the outsize personality and voice of the Canadian Heldentenor Jon Vickers, who redefined it in a reading that stressed Grimes’ elemental violence as much as his visionary, poetic side.
Skelton is well aware of his great predecessors in this iconic role but insists that he had to find his own way to do it. “Only Vickers could do Vickers. I couldn’t do Pears either; that was a unique thing. But you can take the intensity that Vickers used and the intellectual and musical rigor Langridge used and apply those to your vocal and physiological strengths and weaknesses, and hopefully you come up with your own performance.”
Sydney-born and raised, the 41-year-old fair-haired and burly Skelton might be a relative newcomer to the English stage, but his Heldentenor voice is in its prime and looks set to keep him busy at an international level for decades. Following training in Cincinnati and at the San Francisco Opera, first prize in 1997’s Belvedere competition in Vienna gave Skelton the international platform he needed and he landed his first shot at the lengthy and demanding role of Lohengrin in Karlsruhe. How did it feel? “Like a homecoming. It was an absolute eye-opener. I was physically tired and mentally fragged, but vocally I felt absolutely at ease. I walked off the stage thinking, ‘I could do that again.’”
Skelton was quickly co-opted into another Lohengrin production under Daniel Barenboim at the Berlin Staatsoper. With Erik in The Flying Dutchman already under his belt, he gradually added other Wagnerian parts — Siegmund in Die Walkure, Parsifal, even the rare Rienzi. So far, Skelton has sung five major Wagnerian roles. Is he saving the others up? “Only one — Tristan. The others I’m not interested in. Tannhauser was written in the early part of Wagner’s compositional development, before he had worked out what a tenor could and could not do. As far as Siegfried goes, I don’t have the right sound and quality for it. Tristan feels an inevitability, given the colors my voice has at its disposal.” But he is in no hurry, and has already turned it down several times.
Skelton is one of those savvy singers who knows exactly what his voice can and cannot do. “There’s a whole heap of repertoire out there that is not for me. Once you find things that suit you physically, emotionally and physiologically, you’d be mad to not pay attention.” Peter Grimes is clearly one of those things.
“It’s a tough night emotionally and physically,” Skelton says. “Grimes is a bottomless pit of anger and frustration with a childlike ability to burst which, given his clear physical power, makes him extremely volatile and dangerous. In addition, you have to be prepared to leave yourself incredibly vulnerable and exposed.”
Hunted by villagers, in a hue and cry that has contemporary resonance, Grimes’ final solo is accompanied only by the eerie sound of an offstage foghorn. Many see it as a mad scene, but Skelton disagrees. “I’ve always thought of Grimes as a volcano. During the opera you see all the fissures on the surface opening up, little flashes of steam here and a little bit of lava there, then it closes over to the point where at the end the volcano explodes. In that last scene, with his repetition of his name, over and over again, he’s emptying himself of everything that made him.”
Is he able to leave him behind at the opera’s end? “Not for the first 25 minutes. I often sit by the side of the stage when he goes off and the chorus come on, and the boat is sinking out at sea. I just take myself into a corner. You need a little while to shake it off.”
His current assignment, Boris in David Alden’s new English National Opera production of Janacek’s Katya Kabanova, is also complex and troubled, at least in the reading Skelton has worked out. Boris is the lover Katya has an affair with while her husband is away. Her guilt destroys her, and she blurts out the truth publicly. Victimized by her malevolent mother-in-law Kabanicha, Katya commits suicide after Boris has left town. Why doesn’t he take her with him?
“He’s always chosen the path of least resistance,” says Skelton. “His treatment of Katya is no different. After she’s announced that it’s him she’s been having an affair with, it becomes too hard for him.”
The rapturous love music Janacek gives Katya and Boris certainly suggests something tender and transcendent in their brief relationship. “In every opera Janacek wrote there’s always one big MGM moment. We do get some stunning music. Partly that’s the reason it’s hard to write Boris off as a complete cad, because that music means that it has to be heartfelt. In the scene when he tells her he’s leaving, he ultimately makes the decision that he makes, but I don’t want it to seem too easy.” It’s difficult, though, to make him seem anything but craven at their final meeting. “You can’t, but we’re giving it our best shot. Apart from Kabanicha, virtually every other character in the piece breaks your heart a little.”
Skelton’s first English National Opera appearance, back in 2006, was also in Janacek, as the troubled Laca who eventually marries Jenufa — another Alden production that won an Olivier award. Though he does return to sing in Australia, he lives with his wife Meredith, a former singer, in Florida. He relishes his opportunities to come back to the English National Opera. “I love working in this house. I’m friends with people now — backstage guys, stage management and administration. They really care about their artists and really care about shows doing well, making sure that their audiences are part of the group. The audience are just so appreciative of stuff. This is my home away from home.”
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