The Rape of Lucretia has always been among Britten’s 
            most problematic operas and it’s rarely performed. The problem 
            isn’t so much the subject matter - many of Britten’s operas 
            feature scenes every bit as unpleasant - though that doesn’t 
            help. The main issue is the structure of Ronald Duncan’s libretto 
            which adopts the deliberately distancing strategy of having a male 
            and female chorus commenting on the action. Nothing wrong with that 
            in and of itself, but the chorus is forever trying to draw some sort 
            of Christian parable from the unfolding action and the libretto crowbars 
            in all sort of allusions to Christ’s suffering as either a parallel 
            or a solution to Lucretia’s suffering. This is telescoped out 
            to become a metaphor for the suffering of all mankind. It’s 
            clunky and it doesn’t really work. It’s a little surprising 
            that Britten, who was a dramatist to his fingertips, decided to go 
            for it because it seems, if anything, to diminish the power and humanity 
            of the story. Still, the opera contains a lot of excellent music and 
            it gets as convincing a set of advocates here as you could hope to 
            find. 
              
            Most of the times I’ve come across Oliver Knussen he has been 
            conducting his own work, but here he shows that he is a Britten interpreter 
            
par excellence. He directs the unfolding action with a masterful 
            ear for building and distilling tension. He is helped by a crack team 
            of Aldeburgh musicians who seem to hold the music up to the light 
            to let it sparkle. Britten wrote the piece for a chamber ensemble, 
            and each of the thirteen musicians are named and credited in the booklet. 
            They do a great job of illuminating this most transparent of Britten 
            scores, allowing each of the instrumental lines to shine. Britten’s 
            effects come across brilliantly, nowhere better than in the opening 
            scene with the harp for the twittering crickets and the pizzicato 
            glissandi on the bass for the croaking of the bullfrogs. However, 
            they are also capable of conjuring up the onward progress of the narrative, 
            and moments of excitement such as Tarquin’s ride move with convincing 
            sweep. 
              
            The singers are also an excellent team, anchored by the male and female 
            chorus. Ian Bostridge, surely the modern day heir to Pears, sings 
            his lines with energy and passion. He has as fine an ear for the drama 
            as for the musical line, and he isn’t above resorting to a snarl 
            to make the dramatic point. Next to him Susan Gritton seems a little 
            detached and her fulsome tone doesn’t seem to plug into the 
            drama in quite the same way as Bostridge. She still makes a lovely 
            sound, though the microphone balance seems to favour Bostridge over 
            her so that he tends to dominate when they sing together. 
              
            Angelika Kirchschlager sings Lucretia with a tone of wounded virtue 
            that puts me in mind of Janet Baker. Her portrayal of stolen innocence 
            is powerful and beautiful. Her diction is so good that only very rarely 
            might you detect that she is not a native English speaker, and even 
            then only if you were listening for it. As Collatinus, Christopher 
            Purves sounds vigorous and worthy, the closest thing this opera has 
            to a hero. Benjamin Russell sings Junius convincingly too, evoking 
            the character’s shame at his cuckolding without overwhelming 
            his virtues. There is a real nasty streak in Peter Coleman-Wright’s 
            voice that in other circumstances could come across as unpleasant; 
            here it suits the character down to the ground. The two maids are 
            beautifully sung too, and they help to bring to life the two most 
            beautiful passages in the piece, namely the folding of the linen in 
            Act 1 and the dawn in Act 2. 
              
            Britten’s own recording with Janet Baker will forever have its 
            own authority, and if you can track it down then Kathleen Ferrier’s 
            set is well worth a listen. This recording reinterprets the work in 
            modern digital sound for the 21
st Century and acts as a 
            solid advocate for a problematic opera. It may not win the opera many 
            more adoring fans - it’s a difficult work to love - but it certainly 
            deserves to gain it much more respect and admiration. 
              
            
Simon Thompson 
           
          see also review by Paul 
            Corfield Godfrey
          Britten discography & review 
            index