Tonight was the
last night of my grand Berlin opera season. The opera was Massenet’s Werther, and it was given in a concert
performance at the Philharmonie with the forces of the Deutsche Oper. Plus two
guests.
I had never seen Werther. Somehow, it had never come my
way. But I read the novella at age about 14, and thought it a bit of a bore. Just
another love-me-or-I’ll-kill-myself rant, such as those introspective 19th-20th
century novelists used to wallow in. The original British reviews called the book 'sickly and sickening' and the theatres promptly burlesqued it. Anyway, not a lot of action, so – as I thought – not
a promising stage piece.
Well, I was right.
But … then there was Monsieur Massenet.
As played and sung
tonight, the opera fell into two pieces. The first half was as uninvolving as I
had feared. In fact, the already sparse house got sparser in the interval. The
folk on either side of me, and the four in front of me, were among the considerable
numbers who didn’t return for part two. They were wrong. Because Act three
suddenly catches fire …
I think you would
only do Werther if you wanted to
showcase a particular tenor in the title-role. That certainly seemed to be the
idea tonight. Vittorio Grigolo was heavily advertised by his recording company
(oh dear, easy listening) in the programme and the foyer. Well, if that’s how
they want to market him … but I think
he’s worth a touch better than to be sold on a sort of French-language Bocelli
sales-pitch.
I am a Raymond
Amade devotee from way back, so you’ve got to treat music such as Massenet’s rather
specially for me. And little Mr Grigolo, I must say, did pretty well. He got
through the self-indulgent graunches and grinds of Act I and act II with great
earnestness, power … and he worked so hard! He put everything he had into the
excessive emotions of the hero, soaring lustily and clearly up to the high
notes.
But in Act III he
was a different man. Why? Oh, easy. Act III is the leading lady’s act. And here
the evening burst into flower. Werther’s beloved Charlotte – hardly given a
chance in the first half -- has the first section of this act all to herself,
and Charlotte, tonight, was magnificently played by mezzo-soprano Ekaterina
Gubanova. Her rich, glorious voice and her don’t-move-a-muscle emotional power
shifted the whole ball-game up a notch, and when the hero finally joined in, he
had something grand to play with and against.
It’s the
librettists fault that Werther takes ‘an unconsciable time a-dying’ and when he
does it’s ‘Oh I’m dead’ (him) and ‘Ahhhh’ (her), but, before that, there are
moments of real sentiment, and both performers played them finely. She
naturally, and he rather ‘taught’. Yes, well Sony Records, maybe you’ve got it
right: he’s a wee bit Robert Goulet/cabaret.
The rest of the
characters are also-sangs in this opera. Markus Brück (Amtmann) being beyond
criticism by anyone, my decided favourite was Siobhan Stagg as 15 year-old
Sophie. A fresh, clear, soubrette-soprano and a delightful personality: she
managed better than anyone the hideous exits and entrances of the concert
performance. Question: why couldn’t she leave her score on the lectern to which
she returned repeatedly.
Jörg Schörner gave
another of his delightful character tenor sketches as Schmidt, but John Chest –
so admirable as Billy Budd – was rather underpowered and throaty as Albert.
The orchestra,
under Donald Runnicles, had a grand time with the beautiful music of Massenet,
and the Kinderchor (a speciality of the house) sang in truly lovely fashion.
So, you dozens (or
more) who left in the interval, you were foolish. You missed a wondrous
performance by Ms Gubanova and the best of Massenet’s score …
But I’m still glad
I saw this opera in concert, rather than staged. It is all about two people …
anything else is trivial decoration. Anyway, now I’ve ‘seen’, or at least heard
it, and I can say ‘whatever the story, Act III is great stuff’. Especially as
sung by Ms Gubanova.
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