The sorrows of Young Werther, written by Johann Wolfgang Goethe in 1774, immediately gained literary acclaim and significantly influenced the budding Romantic movement. Werther emerged as the archetype of the Romantic hero – a poet whose intense sensitivity renders him a captive of his emotions, ultimately leading to his downfall. Jules Massenet turned Goethe's masterpiece into an opera in 1887 which became, perhaps, his most famous work.
The Opernhaus Zürich is restaging Tatjana Gürbaca's 2017 production, featuring a singular, narrow room adorned with wooden panels and slanted, unconventional walls. Within this peculiar setting, various odd cupboards populate the walls, serving as portals for props and individuals to appear and disappear. The narrative unfolds entirely within this eccentric room, symbolising at times the constricting societal norms that hinder the two lovers from attaining happiness. At other moments, it seems to reflect Werther's own mental landscape, suggesting that he may be envisioning the events.
While this approach can feel claustrophobic and somewhat at odds with Werther's first aria “O nature!”, celebrating the beauty of the forest and natural landscapes, it underscores the inherently intimate nature of the plot. The story primarily evolves through personal, human interactions. Moreover, it provides a comprehensible and tangible portrayal of Werther's descent into the abyss of unrequited love. His almost narcissistic indulgence in his own pain and sorrow becomes apparent, ultimately leading him to suicide.
Benjamin Bernheim delivered an outstanding performance as Werther. His high, radiant tenor delved into the depths of profound expressiveness and dynamic range. His piano passages were filled with passion and sorrow, while his high notes sparkled with brilliance and desperation. His adept use of the voix mixte, coupled with his idiomatic command of the French language, resulted in a remarkably natural delivery. This brought to life a convincing and spontaneous Romantic hero, even during the most exaggerated reactions, emanating a natural elegance throughout.
The narrative unfolds in a modern, unspecified era, which, as is customary, introduces some incongruity into the plot – it seems implausible for a contemporary woman to marry solely based on a promise to her deceased mother. However, this choice implies a Charlotte with greater control over her own destiny, her decision to marry Albert aligning perfectly with her upbringing and moral compass. She emerges as a truly three-dimensional character: a young woman who underestimates the intensity of her devotion for Werther and misjudges the challenges that married life without love would bring. In the second act, her passion nearly overwhelms her, leading her into Werther's arms and pushing her to the brink of suicide when Werther takes his own life.
Rihab Chaieb delivered a poignant portrayal of this tragic character, skilfully expressing the range of Charlotte's emotions with her powerful and resonant mezzo. From her motherly affection towards her younger siblings to the suppressed erotic passion for Werther, Chaieb captured the essence of the character effortlessly. In the Letter Scene, she crafted a touching portrait of a woman constrained by duty, denied the freedom to experience love. While her voice exhibited remarkable expressiveness, there were moments where some high notes appeared slightly strained.
Chaieb and Bernheim displayed remarkable chemistry, their acting resonating with power and authenticity. In the final scene, as Werther lay dying in Charlotte's arms, two elderly actors engage in a silent dance, poignantly re-enacting the earlier moments when Werther and Charlotte had fallen in love. This symbolic portrayal encapsulates the moving tale of a love that could never be fulfilled. The doors and windows of the room open to reveal a starry sky, where the Earth revolves and passes by, creating the surreal sensation that the room has transformed into a spaceship. The scene is oddly poetic, adding a unique and memorable dimension to the staging.
As Sophie, Charlotte's younger sister, Sandra Hamaoui showcased a silvery, high soprano that perfectly expressed the spirited nature of the young girl. Her interpretation was emotionally resonant, with her unmistakable infatuation for Werther evident in the wistful and sweet tones of her voice. Audun Iversen, with his noble baritone, brought more depth to the character of Albert than is typically seen, transcending the cliché of the boring husband. Iversen conveyed genuine affection for Charlotte, and his melancholy realisation of Werther's true love for her was profoundly moving. His mellow voice, marked by a declamatory quality, suited the character exceptionally well.
Conductor Giedrė Šlekytė directed the Philharmonia Zürich in a passionate and occasionally overpowering interpretation of the score. While she adeptly handled the lyrical passages – with the “clair de lune” being particularly enchanting – the execution of the more intense moments tended to be excessively loud. Nevertheless, Šlekytė consistently maintained sensitivity to the singers, ensuring that the orchestra never drowned out their performances and always respecting their artistry.
