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Was the Met’s Werther worth it?

Yeah, Kaufmann was great. But the rest? And that tired old story? An uncluttered assessment from our closely-engaged operavores, Elizabeth Frayer and Shawn E Milnes. Click here to read.

kaufmann werther

And, by way of ballast, here’s a hardcore professional view by Manuela Hoelterhoff on Bloomberg (you may have missed it since Bloomberg no longer houses a specialist arts feed):

What About Me? Hysterical Poet Commits Suicide at Met: Review
2014-02-20 00:00:00.2 GMT

Review by Manuela Hoelterhoff
Feb. 20 (Bloomberg) — Me! It’s all about me! Opera is full
of narcissistic creatures with histrionic disorders, but is
there anyone quite like young Werther?
Massenet’s opera about the suicidal poet opened on Tuesday
at the Metropolitan Opera in an unfortunate new production
featuring the greatest tenor of today: Jonas Kaufmann.
“Werther,” first heard in 1892, has lots of tenor arias,
beginning with the scene-setting ode to nature. Every leaf in
the woods glowed as Kaufmann looked around and sang with that
velvety tone that is his alone.
New to the neighborhood, Werther has arrived at the house
of the poised yet humble Charlotte to accompany her to a ball.
Enchanted by her country ways, he immediately plans for the
future only to learn that she promised her dying mother to marry
Albert, a local bore, probably a lawyer.
“Un autre! Son epoux!” he gasps as the orchestra thunders
his horror.
Over the next three acts, the virtuous young woman of
Wetzlar, Germany, deflects Werther’s increasingly desperate
cries.

I Want Charlotte

Goethe (1749-1832) was just in his 20s when he wrote “The
Sorrows of Young Werther,” partly basing his epistolary novel
on a Lotte he adored and the suicide of a young friend.
Werther’s letters darken as the joys of the world become
completely entwined with what he cannot have: a life with
Charlotte.
Even though 100 years had passed by the time the French
Massenet wrote his opera, their spirits comingled in a rare
fusion of text and sound. He captured the Sturm und Drang that
sends Werther careening toward death.
Vengefully shooting himself with her husband’s pistol,
Werther dies very slowly in her arms as the sobbing Charlotte
finally addresses him with the familiar “tu.”
That duet is a brilliant invention — in Goethe’s story,
she faints as a messenger arrives with the news of his death.
The Met’s staging is by Richard Eyre, who moves the show
into the 19th century, a silly idea with grave consequences,
including cluttered sets and ghastly costumes.

Unenlightened Look

Honoring the original period is sometimes best for a piece.
“Werther” is not a story of the corseted Belle Epoque, but the
diaphanous Enlightenment of the 1770s.
Everyone at the Met looks like they escaped a production of
“The Merry Widow,” though Werther’s dreary long coat would be
nice for a Sicilian funeral.
If Eyre has any insight into these people, it doesn’t come
through; especially not Werther’s preening. He loves his blue
jacket, leggings and yellow vest. It’s perverse in an
uninteresting way to deprive him of a look that would become the
rage in Europe for young men who read Goethe — with a few
engaging in copycat suicides.
Rob Howell’s sets are crooked. I guess that would be to
reflect Werther’s unbalanced personality? Isn’t that idea a bit
dated?
And might it be time to ban staging overtures? Eyre mimes
the funeral of Charlotte’s mutti as we are trying to listen to
Massenet’s ravishing prelude.
A few pretty projections by Wendall K. Harrington of ravens
and fluttering leaves almost erased the painful memory of an
opening scrim devoted to a Joyeux Noel greeting card. (Werther
chooses Christmas to die).

Dramatic Frenzy

In the pit, Alain Altinoglu conducted with sweeping
gestures at a lifeless pace until the last act, for which the
impressive French mezzo Sophie Koch, in her Met debut, worked
herself into a dramatic frenzy, having freed herself of a
perilously attached pancake hat.
The last duet with Kaufmann was memorably beautiful. Such
radiant singing seared the heart and provoked one of the
greatest ovations in recent memory.
But not before Eyre had Charlotte pick up a pistol to shoot
herself. What? Nothing in the story suggests anything so grossly
melodramatic.
For an antidote, look to William Makepeace Thackeray who
rhymed: “Charlotte, having seen his body borne before her on a
shutter, like a well-conducted person, went on cutting bread and
butter.”

“Werther” is in repertoire until March 15. The production
was made possible by Elizabeth M. and Jean-Marie R. Eveillard.
Kaufmann and Koch also star in a striking period production
directed by Benoit Jacquot for the Bastille Opera in Paris,
available on Amazon.

(Manuela Hoelterhoff is an executive editor at Bloomberg
news. Any opinions are her own.)

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Comments

  1. You know-everyone damned the Rusalka this year for being old fashioned, damned Rigoletto for being in Las Vegas, damned The Ring for many things…

    A friend in NYC loves this production and will see it multiple times. So…

    I see Werther on the 15th. I reserve my opinions for then. Right now listening to a nice recording I have and getting to know the music.

  2. Oh no. Such angst! And I had been so looking forward to the HD streaming of Werther…

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