Alexandra Coghlan

Britten at war

Plus: who needs a plot when you have music as rapturously lovely as Handel’s Theodora?

issue 15 September 2018

‘I feel I have learned lots about what not to write for the theatre…’ There’s a prevailing idea that the ever-precocious Benjamin Britten was an operatic natural — a composer whose gift sprang fully formed with the première of Peter Grimes in 1945. But that’s not strictly true. Go back just a few years to 1941 and you’ll find Paul Bunyan — the oversized skeleton in Britten’s musical closet.

Rewind those few years and Britten, darling of post-war England, was all but a national pariah. A pacifist who had escaped conscription by travelling to America, he was forced to take work wherever he could find it. ‘Simple, marketable works’ was his publisher’s edict, and that’s how Britten and fellow émigré W.H. Auden found themselves collaborating on a ‘high-school operetta’ inspired by America’s trippy original myth of Paul Bunyan — a lumberjack as tall as the Empire State Building with a blue ox called Babe for a best friend — whose leadership helped loggers to clear the way for the American Dream.

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