I thought I'd just butt into this fascinating discussion to say how I never cease to be overwhelmed for example at how the Interludes seem to just burst out of the drama as unstoppable eruptions of the emotional and psychological tensions in the opera, and sometimes as painfully vivid portrayals of the diseased and doomed psychology that is unravelling both in Grimes and the wider community.
 
There seems such a strong sense of powerlessness throughout the opera to fight against the approaching catastrophe, which is both moving and disturbing.

This is all so fascinating - I've got the impression that those who feel drawn to Grimes are very divided when it comes to the interludes. To my mind, the first two are very weak (the third and fourth are wonderful, though), and the really meaningful music comes elsewhere; others (such as yourself?) seem to see the interludes as the very basis of the whole opera!

Now, if Grimes, before the opera had started, had hired a boat from Hoseasons, might all the trouble have been averted?

How about to 'Peter Grimes (and at some point, the reactions of Barrett to re-visiting it in its entirety)'?

I'e never witnessed you actually referring to Hoseasons before, having noted only that you have that firm as part of your ID; had Grimes hired a boat therefrom, the entire opera would have been so different that the interludes might never even have been composed! (Ho! seasons are backwaard?...).

Whilst I take your point about the first two and the latter two of these marvellous interludes, that, to me, is one of the strengths (in their operatic rather than their deliberately detached concert context) of the cycle of four; the first two almost seem to suggest that they somehow have a right of - and on - their own to suspend the dramatic action purely for the purpose of making commentary, yet the other two, for all that they grow out of the first two, seem to grab hold both of this detachment and the reality of the preceding dramatic action and wrench the entire interludiary proceedings into a position of vital inevitability, so that when the four end, one feels as though one is right back into the thick of the action.

Best,

Alistair

Closest to the latter (though I would say 'the capitalist system' rather than the 'sea of life'). He needs to make a profit in order to win respectability within the Borough (having had some bad luck previously), and this necessitates him still having to minimise his costs through the use of child labour.


Maybe - the unpredictability of the Sea led to the death of the first apprentice, which left him on the wrong side of the Borough's affections. But he cannot do what Swallow asks him to ('Peter Grimes I here advise you. Do not get another boy apprentice'). So he is left in the impossible situation of having to satisfy the Borough's hypocritical morality on one hand (he can't be the only one to use a child apprentice, though perhaps his brutal working conditions are, alas, what can help him to run a more efficient fishing business) and at the same time do what is necessary in order that his fishing enterprise is successful and profitable. His real enemy is the very system and set of values under which he is forced to operate.

I find it odd that we're discussing Grimes as if it's a straight story, when the libretto, by being consciously moved away from the Crabbe poem, is clearly torn in several directions at once: for example, on one level it's at least partly allegorical of the artist's place in society, and at another its views of the Borough are refracted through a particular political position. From a purely dramatic point of view, this leaves contradictions in the central character and his relationship to society around him which go a long way to explaining the differing interpretations which could be said to be legitimately derived from clues in the libretto.

The eventual decision to cast Pears as Peter is doubtless responsible for some of the softening of the bleak character found in the original Crabbe, particularly the poetic side, though I've always found this dichotomy hard to accept on logical terms. Despite the fact that the piece works brilliantly on stage and in the pit minute by minute, I'm always left with the feeling that somehow the eventual effect is less than the sum of its parts. Don't get me wrong: it's a great opera, which I love dearly, but I can't help feeling that it's flawed.

I'm sure the Berg influence was massive, GG; I have no problems with the Prologue either: excellent exposition.

And your answer to the the 'why are they singing?' question is spot on for me, too. As a teenager I often wondered why there were echoes of the American musical in Grimes - particularly in the "Grimes is at his exercise" ensemble; at that point, I'd no knowledge of the existence of Paul Bunyan; with hindsight, I'd suggest that as well as the influence Berg on the one hand there is a transatlantic tinge to the music and the handling of the vocal lines which I've never encountered in any of the later works, but does bear relation to his operetta.

Agreed, and this is why I purposely invoked the names of two other performers of the role (I am sorry not to have seen the Opera North production, although apparently it might be televised?).   I'd prefer not to dive into the well-thumbed area of the private lives of Britten & Pears,  but there remains the question as to how far Pears was Britten's "ideal" Grimes, and how far he was simply the best-qualified available singer for the role at the premiere (which might be something different).  (Was there a "B" cast for the initial performances?  Does anyone know?)   For me it remains an open question how far Britten really "wanted" to soften Grimes's character as it appears in Crabbe.  I suppose there is a parallel question - whether Britten worried whether the public was "ready" for the full-on misfit in Crabbe?

I think the links with Berg are spot-on, and there are others too.  Krenek's opera JONNY SPIELT AUF (1925) had been a huge success at the time (although it's nearly forgotten now, not helped by the absurd conditions and outrageous fees Krenek's family demand in exchange for performing rights for any of his work).  It's another work about the role of the artist in society, a composer with writer's block and a violin virtuoso, and the overturn of societal values when a black jazzband fiddler steals the precious Amati and gets away with it "because he needs it more" (what a marvellous topic for May 1st today...).   I also wonder how far Britten knew Busoni's DOKTOR FAUSTUS (1916, unfinished) - another "artist in society" piece...   he would surely have warmed to Busoni's theories of expanded tonality as an alternative to serial techniques?  A final piece worth mentioning is Janacek's OSUD (1904)...  yet another angst-ridden composer who becomes alienated from the society around him due to tragic acts of fate intervening in his life (his insane mother-in-law dragging his wife (ie her own daughter) off the balcony to their deaths below.  Zivny seems to be almost a prototype for Grimes - he moves amongst society yet all shun his company and conversation, believing him to be a bad and possibly dangerous man...  despite their respect for his craft.  His wife - formerly a popular person in local society - becomes similarly shunned when she marries him...  perhaps there is something of Ellen Orford in her?

Porgy - yes, absolutely, Ron, it's quintessentially linked, I'd say.  I think that the Great Depression was obviously a big factor in the forming of Grimes and his prototypes...  the idea that a normal, moderately-successful man with a simple but honest profession could be reduced to desperation by vicissitudes of fate far beyond his control must have struck a chord with many at the time.  I think perhaps we rather forget what a bitter memory that must have remained for many at the time Grimes was performed.