In search of a May Day queen at English opera Albert Herring

I found myself grinning like a fool part-way through Portland Opera’s production of Albert Herring, and I did not know why. Perhaps, I thought, it was the notion of me at the opera that amused me so. But then I realized something else entirely, something I hadn’t anticipated. I found the opera funny—really funny. By no means am I an opera buff, but I can certainly appreciate what it has to offer. I have been to several shows elsewhere and there is a common thread among my experiences: remarkably beautiful, yet ultimately detached. Albert Herring builds on the former while not sacrificing the latter. It is a production of great wit, charm and beauty.

Set in the fictitious town of Loxford, England in the early summer of 1900, we are subjected to the madness of the townspeople as they search for a queen for their annual May Day Festival. When all the women of Loxford fail to meet the standards of purity for the title of queen, the honor falls upon a man. Albert Herring, the town’s lone virgin, accepts the title, but hesitantly so. Albert is a quiet young man, meek and unassuming, who helps run the grocery store with his mother. He has long been under the control of his domineering mother, who along with the other townsfolk, pressure poor Albert into accepting the title of May King. Albert is less than pleased with his newfound status, yet the town is too caught up in the ceremony of the festivities to care. The constant pressure forces Albert to finally break free, and when this happens it is done in an amusingly gratifying fashion. I won’t spoil much, but I’ll just say that by the end there are no more virgins in the town of Loxford.

But that’s not the point, really; we are meant to witness the inner struggle of this young man with an air of poignancy and empathy. It is a coming-of-age tale about his loss of innocence in the guise of a humorous romp. Tenor Brendan Tuohy does an exceptional job of balancing Albert’s doughy-faced, powderpuff nature with seething rebelliousness. His submissive nature is marked with moments of seditiousness that the audience not only understands but encourages. 

What really struck me was the intimacy of the experience. The space is small and cozy. The orchestra pit is not really a pit; rather it is suspended up above the stage, breaking the barrier between actors and audience. Video cameras in front of the conductor capture his every move and relay it to closed-circuit televisions mounted in the upper corners of the studio—quite an interesting convention. Often we feel as though we are part of the pageantry of the May Day festivities. Characters literally call out to members of the audience, addressing them as fellow townspeople. Walking to our seats we tread across the same faux grass that the actors run across during their humorous exploits. From where I was seated in the front row I had to watch where I stuck my feet for fear of kicking the actors from behind.

The prospect of an opera sung entirely in English was new and unfamiliar to me. This allows for a subtle humor that couldn’t be conveyed through other dramatic conventions such as tone and gesture. This can be more difficult in operas sung exclusively in other languages like Italian or German. For example, there are moments where Albert is lost in the voices of the entire cast as they yell at him from every direction. We can discern each voice from one another and feel the emotional weight of every word that bears down upon poor Albert. He is drowning in a sea of sound and we are right there with him. While it must be reiterated that Albert Herring is a comedy, there is no denying the element of tragedy. As we delve deeper into its underlying themes, we recognize the poignancy of the story, marked with both humanity and compassion.

Albert Herring by Benjamin Britten at the Portland Opera, 211 SE Caruthers. Until March 30. $20. See portlandopera.org for more information.