A single steadfast bed, projected over the orchestra pit to one side, forms the cornerstone of Chistof Loy’s Theater an der Wien Peter Grimes - tangible intimation of the sexuality and thwarted refuge which pervade this reading.

Loy has chosen to unravel the Crabbe/Slater material to blatantly spotlight society’s potential conflict with homosexuality - as much today in certain cultures as in the post-war era in which Britten composed the role of Grimes for his tenor partner, Peter Pears.

The director and his team, Johannes Leiacker (sets), Judith Weihrauch (costumes) and Bernd Purkrabek (light designer) employ the Theater an der Wien’s entire cubic performing space, with a heavily raked stage, sparse props and subtle lighting to suggest atmosphere rather than any defined setting - paving the way for a drama which could unfold in any bigoted community. Particularly effective throughout is Loy’s and his choreographer’s (Thomas Wilhelm) ability to arrange and dramatize crowd scenes.

Here, Grimes’ and Balstrode’s relationship has a distinct homoerotic aspect, which erupts at times into jealous violence and peaks as the latter enjoys sexual advances with Grimes’ young apprentice, John (here powerfully danced and portrayed by Gieorgij Puchalski).

The opening scene begins with Grimes in bed - from which focal point he is interrogated and judged for the death of his first apprentice, surrounded by village members under the fierce scrutiny of glaring torches.

The bed pursues its Leitmotiv role for the implied sadomasochistic sexual bond between Grimes and his boy, as indeed for the unrequited Balstrode who at one point rolls back the disheveled bedding in a moment of perverse voyeurism, and again as a retreat for Ellen as she realizes the futility of her hopes and dreams. In the finale as Grimes disappears downstage into a prism of light, it is Ellen who strips the bedclothes - leaving the virgin covers for Balstrode who takes up Grime’s initial position in which he too becomes the object of the villagers’ torches and scrutiny before the final blackout.

The reading is both credible and powerful, with cast members sharply defined, and (with the exception of Grimes, Balstrode and Ellen) all granted bizarrely degenerate accents.

Joseph Kaiser’s Grimes lies vocally somewhere between the role’s original interpreter, Peter Pears, and the legendary dramatic tenor Jon Vickers. Kaiser’s creation is broodingly virile - not just an outsider in his community but psychotic, tormented and sexually volcanic throughout. His essentially lyrical resources well reveal the character’s vulnerability and - while not unlimited - the spectrum of his dynamic range and interpretative emotion make for a powerful and touching reading. 

Most atypical, this Balstrode becomes as interesting a figure as the title role - a challenge superbly met by Andrew Foster-WIlliams whose passionate and unabashed acting well compliments his effortlessly expressive singing.

Agneta Eichenholz plays a convincing and sympathetic “Plain Jane” Ellen, bespectacled and decked out in a sensible grey trouser suit. Her lyric soprano responds effortlessly in all registers, accompanied by quite exemplary diction.

Hanna Schwarz is a wonderful - almost tragic - Auntie who despite her taught cheeks, shoulder-length red wig, and slinky red dress, totters as testament to having seen better days (and presumably not a small number of double gins)! Producing steady well-intoned lines of sufficient volume to fill the house, this is quite a show in all respects  - particularly when one considers Miss Schwarz’s international career dates back to the mid-1970’s and Chéreau’s legendary centenary Bayreuth Ring.

Another female Peter Pan in the business, Rosalind Plowright, is a delightful veteran hippie - a coke-sniffing scarecrow - and one guilefully eccentric, as Mrs. Sedley.

Stefan Cerny, Andreas Conrad, and Erik Årman (Swallow, Bob Bowles, and Reverend Horace Adams respectively) create delightfully memorable characters, while Tobias Greenhalgh (a member of the Theater an der Wien Young Artists’ Ensemble) as Ned Keene proves a confident and compelling performer who well holds his own with the more mature members of the cast. Lukas Jakobski plays a suitably boorish Hobson.

Kiandra Howarth and Frederikke Kampmann - well decked out in pink fur-trimmed tutus and identical blond hairdos - are sordidly convincing Nieces, who unrelentingly prance hand-in-hand like inseparable Siamese twins.

The Arnold Schoenberg Chor is absolutely in their element in this music, and as ever, intensely convincing in their stage work.

Cornelius Meister and the ORF Radio-Symphony Orchestra produce many fine moments - particularly as the evening progresses, with commendable showings from the woodwind and brass sections in particular. Perhaps not a definitive reading, but certainly one with stellar moments. 

As Theater an der Wien approaches its first decade as Vienna’s third opera institution, further proof of the vital role this house fulfils  
in serving the genre to the highest international standard.