Sometimes you need a church: Noye’s Fludde at Theatre Royal
Noye’s Fludde
English National Opera
Theatre Royal Stratford East
Stalls E19, £16
2 July 2019
ENO page
I have a deep affection for Noye’s Fludde, in no small part inculcated, no doubt, by that accretion of memories I have around certain hymns and the communal singing thereof. Britten’s simple, rich settings of those hymns always have me in my own small flood of tears by the end. There is much that is lovely and good about this co-production between ENO and Theatre Royal Stratford East: in tears I was, as usual, filled with affection for all involved, delight on behalf of the children, and general bonhomie.
Nevertheless, I complain. I think there are very good reasons not to perform Noye’s Fludde in a church, chief among which so the piece’s beautiful music and general message of peace to all may be liberated from a Christian setting that might be off-putting to many. However, Britten wrote the piece for a church for more than religious reasons, and Theatre Royal has neither a loud enough organ nor enough floor space to be a suitable substitute church.
As such, the orchestra is more-or-less hidden from view above the stage. This means in the audience you cannot see or even really hear the many ingenious things Britten has done to engage children in the orchestra, and those children cannot see the audience or feel their appreciation. The communal spirit essential to the piece is thereby broken: we are not all in it together – the audience is in the theatre, the singers are on the stage and the orchestra is nowhere to be seen.
Almost as important is the role played by the organ, particularly in the last hymn where the strident pedal note grinds against the tonic until a wondrous final resolution. But there is no organ in the Theatre Royal, and so we had an electric keyboard, and while keyboards can be entirely adequate stand-ins for organs they need a bit more oomf than was given here. With that pedal note, and much of the rest of the part, inaudible, the score is denied its foundation, and, if you like to get romantic about Noye’s Fludde, which I do, then you lose the sense of an embraced unity that is what the piece is all about.
As I say, I was still moved and joyed by this performance. The children are corralled just enough that the whole thing doesn’t fall apart but not so much that their enthusiasm is dimmed (with the exception, perhaps, of Wayne McGregor’s choreography for the Raven and the Dove, which seemed a touch OTT to me). Marcus Farnsworth, a favourite of mine since his exemplary performance in Turnage’s Greek a few years ago, is kind and authoritative as Noah, although some of the low notes are just beyond his reach. Suzanne Bertish is a welcome idea of God and conductor Martin Fitzpatrick certainly seemed jolly even if I couldn’t hear most of the fruits of his labour. I had a lovely time – but it would have been lovelier if the music had been as central as it should be.
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