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Werther, a
daring 50's experiment that works |
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WertherOpera in Four Acts by
Alain Guingal,
conductor Orquestra Sinfónica Portuguesa
ot along ago, the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos presented a Werther production which featured Alfredo Kraus, alongside Ileana Cotrubas. A very tough act to follow. Fourteen years later, Lisbon’s Opera House returns to Massenet’s masterpiece with equal success, due to a high quality cast and a daring new production by Graham Vick.
On the other side of the Atlantic, the expression Eurotrash is commonly used to refer to innovative European productions, which have no problem in changing the libretto’s time and place. Graham Vick did just that, transposing the 18th century and German Werther to a 1950’s setting, either in Great Britain or the U.S. However, there was nothing trashy about this staging. The alterations made to the original story were not intended to shock the audience, nor were they mere attempts to do something different. On the contrary, they managed to achieve that most difficult of feats: to remain faithful to Massenet’s music, while shedding new light on its libretto. Clearly inspired by the cold colours and restraint of Edward Hopper’s painting, Graham Vick depicts, on stage, the supposedly paradisiacal life of a small middle-class community in the 50’s, with love-birds strolling around, children playing, housewives arranging their home’s curtains and Sophie sunbathing. Everything is in the right place. Everyone is happy. Not quite. As in Todd Haynes’ Far From Heaven, another major influence on Vick’s staging, beneath the surface, there are suppressed passions and entrapped existences. Death itself is ever-present, for, in the background, a cemetery reminds us of the Fourth Act’s events. Or does it?
“Oublions tout! Tout ... oublions tout!” These are the words of Charlotte and Werther in the last act of Massenet’s opera. But, according to Graham Vick, Charlotte was not able to forget everything. She forgot nothing. Endlessly, she relives each moment preceding Werther’s death. She hears him, talks to him and even sees him as a white-dressed specter with gun shots wounds all over his head. As you may – by now – suspect, the Act IV takes place forty years after Werther’s suicide. On the right, there’s Charlotte’s house, as grey as her soul. We get a glimpse of the Christmas decorations inside, with their unmistakable nineties feel. Charlotte herself has lost her stylish Jane Wyman-like (though a bit longer) hair-do. Her hair has turned white and is cut very short. She barely manages to move without a walking-stick, for she carries with her the guilt of Werther’s death and the unhappiness of a dutiful, but frustrating marriage. Her wrinkles prevent her from deceiving us: she has been scarred for life, physically and mentally. By re-enacting her last moments with Werther, Charlotte finds joy in a monotonous life. Her eyes sparkle, when she feels the last kisses and embraces she traded with him. Her mouth opens in a radiant smile, when she confesses her undying love. But her dream doesn’t last long. Soon she hears her grandchildren’s chants of Noël and her husband comes out to get her. In a literal staging, the voices of children, singing about the birth of Christ, imbue Werther’s death with an aura of redemption, a sense of rebirth. In Vick’s production, as in Todd Haynes’ movie, there is no way out. The Noël chants shatter Charlotte’s trance-like visions and remind her that she is the sole responsible for a demise. She let her life be trapped willingly and thus lost the only chance she had to be happy.
As a result of Vick’s reworking of Act IV, the character of Charlotte grows in importance, but the mezzo Monica Bacelli rises to the challenge. Looking amazingly like Nicoletta Braschi in Benigni’s La Vita È Bella ("Life is Beautiful"), Bacelli’s youthful and maternal appearance fits Charlotte to perfection. A consummate actress, she was able to convey the psychological development of the character: dreamy and enthusiastic in the First Act moon-lit duet, but adequately restrained and well-behaved, during her exchanges with Werther in the following Act. And enigmatic as well, for the audience ignores the depth of Charlotte’s feeling for Werther, until the beginning of the Third Act. It could be just a fleeting fling or a more tender friendship, but, when we witness Charlotte voluptuously caressing Werther’s letters against her body, we know it is love, the eternal kind. Bacelli’s voice is not golden age material. It needn’t be. It is a soft-grained instrument, with enough power to handle the dramatic outbursts of the two final Acts. The middle register sounded a little bit bottled, but got freer as the night progressed. And, by the time she got to her concluding “madness scene”, Bacelli succeeded in unleashing some chilling high notes, full of anguish and torment. However, the Italian mezzo was at her best in soft singing. She was capable of the most delicate dynamic shadings and, alongside an equally subtle Sabbatini, created magic in usually neglected moments, such as: “Toute chose est encore à la place connue” (Act III) or the already cited “Oublions tout!” (Act IV). Charlotte is much more than “Laisse couler mes larmes” and Bacelli proved it.
Werther brought with it the return of Giuseppe Sabbatini to the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos. The previous season, the Italian tenor had enchanted the Portuguese audience with a richly nuanced Alfredo in “La Traviata”, plus an astounding messa di voce and a ringing high C in “O mio rimorso”. Vocally, things were not as good this time. Sabbatini experienced vocal troubles and was even forced to cancel the second performance (March 1st). Fortunately, there were little signs of such problems in the 4th of March rendition. Perhaps Sabbatini had to work harder to project his voice. Perhaps he sometimes compromised, rushing over a phrase, before a climatic high note, as in the high B of “Appelle-moi!”. But these shortcomings cannot overshadow the breath-taking filati, the sustained high pianissimi or the matchless breath control and legato in “Pourquoi me réveiller”. Despite his excellent technique, Sabbatini is, above all, a great interpreter, insightfully using dynamics and tonal colouring to create an emotional and moving portrayal of Werther.
Jorge Vaz de Carvalho, the Albert of the Kraus/Cotrubas 1990’s production, once again, breathed life into Charlotte’s husband. His is an adequately solid voice, only marred by an intrusive tremolo. Hélène Le Corre’s Sophie couldn’t be perkier or livelier, but her instrument was perhaps a bit too light and thin even for Charlotte’s sister. Jérôme Varnier built an affectionate and paternal Bailli with dark, yet soothing tones. Luís Rodrigues and Carlos Guilherme had a ball, as Johann and Schmidt, and the Orquestra Sinfónica Portuguesa, under the inspired direction of Alain Guingal, offered the Portuguese audience an intense reading of Massenet’s score, especially in the Act IV’s symphonic interlude. All in all, the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos presented a truly unforgettable production of Massenet’s opera, with a traditional Werther, following the footsteps of Alfredo Kraus, a surprising Charlotte and a daring staging by Graham Vick.
Nuno Miguel Marques is a Classical Voice correspondent in Lisbon, Portugal.
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