I really had very little idea what to expect from Opera Australia's Werther — it's not an opera I'm hugely familiar with, and it was very hard to tell much about the production beyond the promise of frocks by Leona Edmiston, in honour of which I pointedly wore my watermelon coloured Leona Edmiston tights. But I arrived in a good mood, predisposed to enjoy myself, and I was not disappointed. In fact I had a wonderful time.
The mere fact that the production is in modern dress is, I suppose, enough to put some people off, but in all honesty, this didn't seem to me a particularly feather-ruffling modernisation. I actually thought it worked very well indeed, and it looked fantastic — it's such a refreshing change to see people on stage in genuinely and recognisably modern dress, rather than the dated attempts at same in something like OA's Simon Philips Bohème, and they're set against a series of striking, sparsely furnished sets. I especially liked the set for Act I, a curious indoor-outdoor blend, with a fresh green lawn framed by massive and ornate doorframes. Le Bailli has more children than Captain Von Trapp but they're not quite so cloying — at least not in this production, where they more or less act like real children. The youngest girl is very good at being adorable, and the third eldest (after Charlotte and Sophie) even better at looking sour — something used to interesting effect in the third act. The staging is pretty straightforward for the most part, although it takes an interesting turn in Act III, when Charlotte, having been obliged to send Albert's pistols to Werther, tries repeatedly to leave her dinner party, only to be blocked by a series of ghostly and malicious party guests who seat themselves solemnly around her table, ready for the most joyless, funereal Christmas party ever. The children are herded off, with the exception of the sour girl, who sits on the couch, isolated from the party and begins to sob. It's weird, but curiously effective — a memorable way of conveying the absolute horror of Charlotte's situation, forced to celebrate in the knowledge that the man she loves is at that moment committing a miserable suicide.
Not having the premiere or intervening revivals of this production, I have no way of knowing how much of this revival is Moshinsky's concept and how much is the work of the revival director, one Elke Neidhardt. But I certainly cannot imagine Elke kowtowing to another director's vision at the expense of her own, so I suspect it is as much her production as his by now, and that everything that's there is there because she wanted it there, regardless of who had the original idea. In any case, what I have to declare without further ado, in case it isn't already clear, is that I think Elke Neidhardt has done a fantastic job with this Werther. I realise that I may have given the impression of a personal vendetta against Elke, since I rubbished both her Tannhäuser and her Don Giovanni, but I've been trying not to close my mind entirely, and this Werther, even if it isn't hers from the ground up, definitely helps to keep it open.
The only issue I have, and it's something which troubled me in her Don Giovanni, too, although it's not nearly so troublesome here, is that she seems to excel in directing the concept but to fall down a little in directing people. In both Don Giovanni and Werther we have an utterly modern setting, but the people who inhabit it still frequently act like they were in a totally traditional production — you could roll the sets and costumes back a century and their gestures and expressions would mostly not be out of place. However, it's hardly a serious crime: after all, there's really not much you can do to take the Romantic melodrama out of this opera, certainly not without crushing its soul. Because the melodrama, the sentimentality, the excess of it is all part of its charm. At least, that's my feeling: I have a soft spot for Massenet, and I love his over the top tendencies. Thais is still on my wishlist.
One of this production's chief joys, of course, is the fabulous Aldo di Toro in the title role. I have a slight feeling of possessiveness towards Aldo, for the simple fact that I managed to see him (only just) before his Opera Australia début. I proceeded to make promises left, right and centre that that début (Alfredo in La traviata) would be a triumph and, thank heavens, it was. Now he is our beautiful Werther. His voice may not be huge, but it is absolutely delicious, and he sings with such genuine artistry and sensitivity that he is impossible to resist. His "Pourquoi me réveiller" is fantastic, naturally, but so too is his soliloquy after bidding farewell to Charlotte, not to mention a haunting death scene — including one of the more spectacular stage falls I've ever seen. Inevitably there are a few giggles, as Werther takes an awfully long time to die, but it's nevertheless a moving scene. (It might also be worth noting that the prolonged death is not really Massenet's fault. Goethe's Werther takes a full twelve hours to die, so the opera in fact accelerates things quite drastically.)
Michèle Losier is a happy discovery as Charlotte. In fact it is slightly odd to think that she replaces Pamela Helen Stephen in the role: as happy as I undoubtedly would have been to hear Pamela in the role (I'm a fan, though I know others aren't) I have difficulty imagining her in the role as envisioned here. Michèle plays a youthful, slightly fidgety Charlotte, clutching at chairs and fussing with cutlery when faced with difficult situations. Though only months go by, she seems visibly to age as she passes from the end of adolescence into her socially prudent marriage: the radiant, fluttery girl of the first act is barely recognisable in the pale, elegant society hostess of the third. She's lovely in those early scenes, but her best moments come towards the end. Her voice opens up brilliantly in her "Qui m'aurait dit la place...Va! laisse couler mes larmes" and in the surrounding scenes — a dark, exciting mezzo with a good solid lower register and plenty of colour. She's pretty devastating in the final scene, too, the last shreds of self-containment giving way to palpable terror.
I've already mentioned in passing how delighted I was with Sarah Crane as Sophie. I've read mention in several places of Sophie as one of those typically annoying soubrettes in which opera abounds, and while I can see that she could be, that really wasn't my impression of Sarah's Sophie. Yes, she's endlessly cheerful and not massively perceptive, but to me she just seemed like a rather charming teenager. Her mooning over Schmidt is a bit overplayed, perhaps, but otherwise I liked her a lot. And I loved her singing. This is (for me) a new development: I've heard Sarah in several other roles, but she's never made a significant impression on me until now. Her voice seems more secure and distinctive now and has more of a silvery sheen than I remembered. She trips lightly through Sophie's very French coloratura, her high notes sparkle and she seems genuinely to be having fun with the music. More than that, I can't say, but I'm definitely listening to Sarah Crane with renewed interest.
My other favourite is lovely Stephen Bennett as Le Bailli. Lately, every time I've heard Stephen, I've wished we could hear him in something a bit more substantial; this role gives us that chance to some extent, at least in terms of character development, and he lives up to my hopes. He's a totally lovable father figure, his stage presence just radiating paternal benevolence, and there's an engaging twinkle in his eye and in his voice. His French diction is superb, to my ears some of the best of the evening, and his smooth, rich bass is a constant pleasure. Andrew Schroeder sings real authority and style as Albert, though it's a pity this production seems determined to pigeonhole him as an irredeemable square — he could probably have pulled off something a bit more complex, though. He's excellent, though, and for some reason kept reminding me of Peter Coleman-Wright, which can only be a good thing.
Best of the rest is probably Stephen Smith as Schmidt. Stephen is in just about every production this year (well, seven of them) so I'm going to run out of things to say about him, but, as in Pagliacci, he turns a jocular cameo into a miniature star turn, and shows off both a charming sense of humour and a promising tenor voice. Even these brief appearances suggest he's a strong actor as well as a singer, so it will be interesting to see him take on something meatier in the future. David Thelander is entertaining, if a bit more on the generic side, as his drinking buddy Johann. Jodie McGuren and Andrew Brunsdon are very cute as the beatniks Kätchen and Bruhlmann. There's also a collection of actors, roped in to play Albert's entourage, imagined in this modern setting as an assortment of Beautiful People whose acceptance of Charlotte is superficial, and among whom Charlotte is increasingly uneasy.
Emmanuel Plasson leads what sounds to me a very Massenet, very French performance, not shying away from romantic excess but not overdoing it either. The orchestral preludes and interludes are evocative and nicely paced, particularly at the point of Charlotte's dour Christmas party, and the saxophone solo in Charlotte's "Qui m'aurait dit" is beautifully played.
I'm not going to claim this as an earth shattering revelation, but that's hardly the point anyway. It was just a truly engaging and enjoyable night of opera. Perhaps not everybody will like the production, but there's enough excellent singing in this Werther to cover a multitude of perceived directorial sins. It's a shame audiences have been so small, at least on the two nights I attended, but such is life — the name Massenet is evidently only a guaranteed drawcard when followed by the name Manon. And Manon certainly has her appeal; but I quite like her younger brother, too, and judging by the vocal ovation from the tiny opening night audience, so do many others.
