Massenet : Werther
Orchestra of Scottish Opera
Francesco Corti
Werther is one of those operas which, incomprehensibly, is recorded much more than it is actually performed. It's hard to understand why. Manon still gets regular outings, largely because the title role is a gift to a good soprano. Werther is just as much of one to the right tenor, and it's a better opera, dramatically far tighter, musically more subtle, and better orchestrated. It's been thirty years since I saw this last at Scottish Opera, the tenor was a certain Dennis O'Neill, then in his prime. The first time I ever saw Werther live, four or five years earlier, the title role was unforgettably taken by a young Neil Shicoff, who remains my reference for that role on-stage, a uniquely vulnerable and radiant reading. This new production for Scottish Opera, therefore, was both welcome for its rarity, but also had quite a bit to live up to.
Director Pia Furtado has updated it, from Goethe's time to Massenet's, late 18th Century to late 19th. There seemed to be no particular reason for this, and visually, while the costumes remained sort of neutral (rather fussy, in places), the set, frankly, looked better suited to the outer acts of La Bohème than to Werther. I know we're in the age of the unique set, and the economic reasons for such are glaringly obvious, but really, more thought ought to be given to the appropriateness of the same. The two first acts of Werther take place out of doors, the two last acts indoors, and the music reflects this very strongly. Designer Helen Goddard's ramshackle garrett space made for a gloomy setting throughout the first half, although Furtado justified it by staging the work in flashback, with Werther or his doppelgänger observing the proceedings at all times. It was one of those stagings where mostly ignoring it seemed the best solution.
The flashback idea was one way of making Werther the outsider looking in that the music underscores so pointedly. For his arias, the lighting changed, the snow started falling again, he was in his own world, detached from the comfortable little family to which he has become attached. Not subtle, but clear enough. I wasn't too happy with the director explicitly making him an artist - he's not that bohemian a character. Although there are frequent references to him painting or drawing in the Goethe text, it's not meant to imply he makes a living from it, and the opera libretto specifically describes him as a poet. In all probability, he's meant to be a multi-talented young man, something like E.T.A. Hoffmann, painter, poet, writer, possibly composer, with almost too many strings to his bow, and unable to settle down and focus on one thing to his satisfaction, hence his eternal sense of discomfort, of never finding a place in which he truly fits, and of his constant and ultimately fatal longing for the unattainable. Still, as productions went, this one was basically harmless. It didn't run counter to the libretto too egregiously, and let the characters breathe, allowing us to focus on the performances.
It began well, with Jonathan Best as a strong, sympathetic Bailli, and a nice, bright-sounding group of children doing a decent job with the French. Roland Wood was a solid Albert, not too much the heavy, while Anna Devin sang sweetly and airily as Sophie, though her character remained on the childish side, rather than the increasingly self-aware adolescent Massenet intended her to be. Viktoria Vizin's voice was fine, warm and vibrant, but her diction was almost impenetrable, robbing her of a good deal of expressivity. By contrast, Jonathan Boyd, in the title role, does not have what I'd call a beautiful voice, but what he has was more than adequate for the title role, and was well used, expressive with a good dynamic range, and clear (if not always ideally accented) diction. He did have a slight tendency to be a little wayward with his phrasing, not always completely in accord with the orchestra, but I preferred that to Vizin's over-emoting in the Air des Larmes.
However, the real star of the evening ended up being Francesco Corti and the Scottish Opera orchestra. They were good during the first part, detailed and attentive, with well chosen tempi, but Corti lit the burners under his players for the second half, and the orchestra became incandescent, all the pent-up passion of the Letters aria and the following duet pouring forth in rich, unbridled colour. There's an alto saxophone in Massenet's orchestration, a rare instrument in the opera orchestra, its unique timbre magnificently deployed and fully audible. Here was dramatic tension aplenty and to spare, and the latter part of the evening passed in a blaze of searing intensity. It was a pity the first half hadn't benefitted from the same degree of commitment, but at least the performance went from merely respectable to definitely honorable.
[Next: Nothing officially until 9th April, but I'd be surprised if I got through March without seeing something]
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