The showcase, set for Jan. 17, 2025 at Palais Garnier, will be conducted by Patrick Lange and features scenes from operas by Bizet, Gounod, and Massenet.

For Bizet’s “Djamileh,” audiences will hear Amandine Portelli, Liang Wei, and Luis Felipe Sousa. Isobel Anthony and Ihor Mostovoi will star in a scene from “Les Pêcheurs de Perles;” another scene from the same opera stars Clemens Frank and Bergsvein Toverud. Lisa Chaïb-Auriol and Liang Wei are the headliners from a scene from “Don Procopio.”

From “Carmen” come two scenes, including “Parle-moi de ma mère” with Daria Akulova and Bergsvein Toverud and the quintet starring Amandine Portelli, Sima Ouahman, Sofia Anismova, Clemens Frank, and Liang Wei. Finally, Boglárka Brindás and Liang Wei headline two scenes from “Le Docteur Miracle” and are joined by Luis Felipe Sosa for one of them. Wei also headlines another scene from that same opera alongside Sima Ouahman, Sofia Anisimova, and Clemens Frank.

Boglárka Brindás and Luis Felipe Sousa star in a scene from “Manon;” Brindás joins Sofia Anismova for a duet from Massenet’s “Don César de Bazan.” As far as the Gounod segment of the performance, Lisa Chaïb-Auriol and Sima Ouahamann deliver a scene from “Mireille.”

The concert kicks off at 8 p.m. local time.

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The production heads to Australia following stints at the Metropolitan Opera and Royal Opera House Covent Garden. It will feature Emily Edmonds in the title role alongside Margaret Plummer as Prince Charming. As the Fairy Godmother, audiences will experience the talents of Emma Matthews.

The opera opens on Jan. 2, 2025 at the Joan Sutherland Theatre in Sydney and will be featured for a total of 20 performances with the final showcase set for March 28, 2025. There will be four matinee performances on Jan. 4; Feb. 1 and 8; and March 22.

The post Opera Australia to Present Laurent Pelly’s ‘Cendrillon’ Production appeared first on OperaWire.

The Teatro alla Scala presented a new production of Jules Massenet’s “Werther,” with libretto by Édouard Blau, Paul Milliet and Georges Hartmann, in co-production with Théâtre des Champs-Élysées on June 19th, 2024 to an eager audience ready to experience tenor Benjamin Bernheim in the titular role.

The last time “Werther” was presented at Teatro alla Scala was in 1980, featuring Alfredo Kraus as Werther and Elena Obraztsova as Charlotte, with a steady lead up of other performances in years past from 1895 through 1976. Needless to say, tonight’s production for this season was a big to-do not only because this opera is gripping in its own right and has not been presented at La Scala in 44 years, but also because of Benjamin Bernheim.

Bernheim & Altinoglu Prove Worthy of Werther

The voice of Werther determines the entire production of this opera’s success, however, the music of “Werther” is what makes this success possible, and it all begins with the conductor. Alain Altinoglu’s reputation as an innovative game-changer in the conducting world precedes him. He is the Director of Music of the Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie in Brussels since 2015, Chief Conductor of the Symphony Orchestra of Frankfurt, and Artistic Director of the International Festival of Colmar. His leadership is making history at the moment and his work at the podium is guiding his way. 

Massenet’s “Werther” is excruciatingly tender in its delivery and designed to envelope listeners immediately in an atmosphere of pure hope for love’s resolve. This vein of catalytic expression initiates from the heart of the conductor, permeating every single note, instrument, and intention all throughout. There is no breath separate from supporting where this is all going, no matter the high or dramatic low. In knowing this reality, there is a decision the lead tenor in the role of Werther has to make – to live or to die while waiting for love’s resolve. 

Benjamin Bernheim is no ordinary tenor, but does consider himself to be an ordinary human being. In fact, his ability to remain grounded and steadfast in self-awareness has catapulted his career to extraordinary heights – and he is still on the rise. Typically when singing the role of Werther, tenors use their voice to over-exaggerate their remorse as a love-scorned victim of unfortunate circumstances. This overplay serves against the lightness and ethereal presence that Werther calls for, as a symbol of hope’s lament, and it takes guttural enrichment to prove otherwise – and this is exactly how Bernheim succeeded. 

Werther’s first aria, “Alors c’est bien ici,” begins with one of the most gorgeous cello entrances in any opera. The unfurling of this instrument’s beauty then collapses into the rising swell of the violin in response. Already there is love being made and had in this way, so when Werther elicits his first note in this atmosphere it better be full of love – and it was. Bernheim exuded a natural glow when entering onto the stage and singing this aria. His eyes glittered in the soft light that fell upon his body as he looked into the warmth of Charlotte’s house, ardently hoping to see her. His voice cascaded into Teatro alla Scala’s hall with exuberant exaltation in excitement just to be there, closer to her and in complete surrender to love. Already Bernheim’s Werther had died to be reborn, and to live in only love’s grace. This level of alignment goes deeper than what Massenet can offer through his music though, and so it is important to acknowledge Bernheim’s alignment as a pillar of serenity. Come what may, there was already a feeling of detachment from love’s emotional bind that Bernheim used in his favor, and it seemed this feeling of peace would continue to grow.

Altinoglu led the orchestra with delight and wonder in support of Bernheim’s trajectory. I watched as his face lit up in recognition of his sweet tenor taking listeners into another realm of experience all together. Altinoglu many times handed the way to Bernheim’s voice, making it all about the music and all about what matters most – the love and joy of singing. Bernheim’s following aria, “Je ne sais si je veille,” was a continuation worthy of Werther’s delight. Both Altinoglu and Bernheim were at play here in creating this magical moment together. For me, watching a conductor and singer in one of the world’s most critical opera stages take the time to realize Massenet’s music in full bliss together took my breath away. Moments like this are what opera was made for and must continue to be.

Once this opening was steady on its path, I watched as the audience relaxed into love’s oblivion and awaited Charlotte’s arrival.

“Pourquoi me reveiller” was absolutely the most remarkable moment of the night as Bernheim lifted his soul into La Scala’s hall and showcased exactly how his crystalline vocals can ignite any listener’s heart. His delivery was that of a master of his craft, illuminating the beauty of Massenet’s music and the simplicity of exquisite vocal technique. The crowd roared in congratulations at the end and Bernheim’s face remained stoic in Werther’s determined quest. Nothing compares to what one might have felt as the audience cheered, sounding far and wide in celebration of Bernheim and the presence of such genius. Bravissimo!

Karkacheva’s Soul Full of Light

Charlotte is the reflection of Werther’s gaze. Her voice mirrors this recognition based on the purity of its source. In other words, mezzo-soprano Victoria Karkacheva as Charlotte was at the mercy of where Benjamin Bernheim as Werther was leading her. And this is a beautiful thing. Not once did Karkacheva doubt Bernheim’s tenderness or timid torment, instead her voice brought forth the very life force he summoned through the mysterious veil that is music’s powerful elixir. Karkacheva relished in “Il faut nous séparer” with Bernheim as he confessed his love for her. Although her announcement at the end proved fate otherwise, there was a sincerity to Karkacheva’s voice that made her more transparent and relatable. Her promise to marry Albert did not deter her from feeling her heart’s natural awakening to Werther’s confession. And this could very much be felt, planting a seed of hope in any listener no matter how many times they’ve seen this opera and know its brutal ending. All in all, chemistry was in the air!

Karkacheva’s mezzo provided necessary roots to carry Bernheim’s tenor full of light into La Scala’s hall. The pair were in sync every note of the way especially during “Mais vous ne savez rien.” Charlotte’s arias “Hélas oui mes enfants” and “O Charlotte ange du devoir” ushered in waves of brilliance as her mezzo blossomed. Her palette of vocal colors were profoundly polished and garnered no resistance to their joy in delivery. Everything Karkacheva sang rang true and honest in the loving presence of Bernheim. These open arms made this production feel surprisingly new and timeless. A breath of fresh air filled the lungs of Massenet’s score as it pulsated anew.

Minimal Design Invites Maximum Pleasure

Christof Loy’s production, designed by Johannes Leiacker and lighting designer Roland Edrich, invited the audience to focus on the music and natural chemistry unfolding among the cast. The simple changes happening behind a double sliding door that opened and closed, revealing the season’s of Werther’s journey through love, made it easy for the audience to digest and connect with the symbolism at hand. Honestly, there was no space for maximalist efforts to even exist, and one could sense the entire creative team and cast were all on the same page.

The true beauty of this production’s design was in how it featured the voices interacting among each other with gentle lighting, soothing tones of color and the stunning artistry of costume designer Robby Duiveman’s perspective. Duiveman portrayed each character in a refined manner that kept the tone of “Werther” aligned and alive. Charlotte’s raspberry colored dress especially fit the display of emotions on the rise and hard fall. Her movements emulated language in their own way as she cascaded about with her dress levitating slightly above the stage floor. This production was seamless and truly appreciated by the audience. Bravo!

More Cast Highlights

Jean Sébastien Bou as Albert and Francesca Pia Vitale as Sophie had a particularly interesting interplay on stage. Bou’s voice and demeanor were exact and at times aggressive in his interpretation of Albert. His facial expressions projected a sense of urgency and threat to his ego that really added to the salaciousness of Albert’s character. At times, I was on the edge of my seat while watching him respond and react as Werther’s love grew brighter before his eyes and Charlotte’s heart opened wider in its vastness. Bou’s glory of the night came when he sat tormented in his chair while reading the love letters Werther had sent to Charlotte. His acting was supernatural as he seethed and wallowed in this banal act of uncovering secrets not meant for him to know about. But how could he not have seen this love becoming? Bou’s ability to stay present in each moment led one to maybe believe otherwise and give into the anger Albert must have felt, deserved to feel, had brought onto himself to resolve? It was an interesting and engaging discovery through Bou’s performance the entire night.

Francesca Pia Vitale’s voice echoed all sentiments of the night and her high notes sounded angelic in La Scala’s natural acoustics. The way she glides her voice up to its top register to then blossom back into her body of sound is something I want to experience live again and in much larger roles. There is an extreme amount of vocal precision and talent she uses to captivate her listeners, but this isn’t all she can do. Vitale had moments on stage where she wasn’t necessarily singing or moving that she still managed to actively participate in what was going on. Her body language and bouts of holding her head in her hands, writhing her face back and forth in her lustrous hair and turning her red lips into a pout or a smile were gorgeous. Vitale knows the power of minimal acting and maximal body language. She is an illustrious star on the fast rise.

Bass Armando Noguera as Le Bailli sounded confident and secure in his voice and role. He loved to command attention and join in the Christmas festivities. Tenor Rodolphe Briand as Schmidt was playful and charming as he sang and the children danced and ran about the stage singing Christmas carols. Baritone Enric Martínez-Castignani as Johann also fit perfectly into the mold of family fun and beautiful singing. Pierluigi D’Aloia as Bruhlmann portrayed his character as lighthearted and young, singing and acting with care to his cast mates. D’Aloia is a student of the Teatro alla Scala Academy. Elisa Verzier as Katchen was a perfect match for D’Aloia’s Bruhlmann as the pair exchanged romantic moments of playfulness. 

The children’s voices of the Coro di Voci Bianche dell’Accademia Teatro alla Scala were pure and bright as they sang about the coming of a new dawn on a new day, Christmas morning. Listening to them singing in the distance after Werther’s final act (I won’t spoil it by saying exactly what he does in this review in case you do not know yet) was a revelation. This moment reminded me of John Adams’s “El Niño” children’s chorus at the finale. This simple reminder that only hope remains amidst the suffering and disillusionments of this life completely fades, bringing one back to the purpose of all existence – the undying power of love’s resolve. 

The post Teatro alla Scala 2023-24 Review: Werther appeared first on OperaWire.

I’ve been told that one reads “Don Quichotte” three times in life: in one’s twenties to laugh, in one’s forties to think, and in one’s sixties to cry. This saddening saying reflects the multivocal quality of the Chevalier of La Mancha’s myth: painfully delusional and carnally human, his hallucinatory deeds are metaphors that represent us all. Jules Massenet’s “Don Quichotte” is less Cervantes’s than Jacques Le Lorrain’s—more romantic, and less comic. Nevertheless, there is still much space for comedy. Stage director Damiano Michieletto, however, embraced the fragility of the hero’s saga in a staging that materializes the life of a mentally challenged soul and the struggles of masculinity. It is a very, very sad opera after all.

Now all the setting happens in a plastic representation of a 1950s apartment. Quichotte, perhaps a prep-school teacher, works on his poetry while taking psychiatric medications that either constrain his hallucinations or on the contrary produce them. Sancho—here, more a partner-in-life than a servant—runs the house while witnessing his beloved losing his mind. Never has the famous couple been queerer than in this production; on the other hand, their friendship seems so intimate, and Sancho’s devotion so honest, that is hard to tell the nature of their love. One confronts an ambiguity familiar from Victorian documents and texts: heartfelt professions of devotion that, to ears attuned to language after gay liberation, seem indubitably sexual, while it nevertheless remains possible that they were as chaste as they often seem to profess to be.

Dulcinée, here, is a figure of Quichotte’s hallucinations: a beloved girl from his school days who rejected him. He has a photo of her in his dresser, making the whole Sancho-Quichotte coupling even more odd: how long has Sancho endured seeing the photo of this schoolgirl in his own home?

Dulcinée’s ghost is accompanied by a series of dark specters that evoke Spanish symbols—from gitanas outfits to Toreadors. All this nostalgic affection seems to embrace a mode of action and masculinity alien to Quichotte’s intellectual skills: he reads, he writes, and he seems very far removed from the kind of man from the past thus evoked. His hallucinations reflect his poetry: they aim for something beautiful that he cannot truly be.

The plastically morphic room stands in for Quichotte’s own mind, which often revolves like a carrousel, going nowhere, or in a circle. A trick that Michieletto has used before, it marks external represented events as manifestations of the inner workings of a psyche. In the near-sameness of the spaces, and the revolving stage that has figures on the stage in near-constant motion in order to go nowhere, one contemplates a figure for rumination, if not perhaps for obsession or madness. The result might be interesting to some, but to me, it is always dramaturgically confused and intellectually underwhelming.

In the age of regietheater, some directors have highly recognizable visual identities that traverse all their works: Lydia Steier fascination for decadence and violence; Calixto Bieito is the king of symbolism; Robert Carsen blends panache and sublimity; and so on. Michieletto seems to think himself an explorer of mental interiority and the labyrinthine of a human mind. While the approach may have been successful in other productions, here it truly sacrifices the dramatical action and cohesion in the name of simplistic readings. Let’s be honest, there is not that much action in Massenet’s “Quichotte” when it is all in the protagonist’s mind. Moreover, there were many dramaturgical incoherencies that made the opera hard to watch: if it is all in Quichotte’s mind, why is Sancho able to interact with the hallucinated figures? And, how revealing can such approach really be about the work of the human psyche? One perceives little about Don Quixote or about the opera that one hadn’t known before the production began: the payoff hardly seems worth the dramaturgical incoherence that it courts. Nevertheless, it is not wrong in its identifying of the basic problem of quichotism: the catastrophe and suffering that follows when the superego commands the mind. Michieletto is more sympathetic to his figures than is Flaubert in “Madame Bovary,” or Tennessee Williams, in “Streetcar Named Desire”—perhaps because his protagonist is a manly male—, but, even with that sympathy,  the production left unexplored much of what is most interesting in the novel and the opera.

In Christian van Horn, Michieletto found the perfect charming and mentally doomed Quichotte. His voice, grave, but not gigantic, was uniform and expressive; his stage presence, full of charm, emphasized the mental struggles of the character in a manner that audiences no doubt found it easy to relate to. Nevertheless, all the comic effects were stripped away. In such a dramatic and serious approach, van Horn was also keen to provide a beautiful legato in some phrases—even though the effort cost him some of the intonation in the higher notes at the end of the phrases. His “Quand apparaissent les étoiles,” gently sung with carrousel horses in the background, was when he settled the mode of his lyrical character. His castmates may have covered over his fourth act duo with Dulcinée (“Oui je souffre votre tristesse”); anyone paying attention to him, however, would arguably have found the most moving moment of the opera—and I will explain why. If all the action is, indeed, all in Quichotte’s psyche, Dulcinée’s refusal to be with him is a manifestation of his own unconscious: even in his imagination, he does not dare to believe that he and Dulcinée can be together. Van Horn phrased the music with a dry voice, almost in a parlando. It did cost him a bit in his vocal projection (especially against Arquez’s voice), but it brought a dissonance between him and all his hallucinations with much poetical beauty. A true portrait of a tormented hero.

On the other end of the spectrum, Gaëlle Arquez sings a Dulcinée that is a well of sensuality and graciousness. In contrast to the novel’s protagonist, the opera paints Quichotte’s dame in more sympathetic than in Cervantes’s. Arquez is, in my opinion, the mezzo-soprano in Paris who perhaps best embodies the ideal form of the femme fatale. Although her scenic movements are sometimes too self-aware and controlled, her lentitude in moving on the stage also enables her to “save face” as a character. Her voice, most importantly, transmits this ideal character on a level unique to her. With a full rounded core, very compelling lower notes, and an explosive higher register, she makes it almost impossible to think what she cannot sing—especially with such a recognizable instrument. In Dulcinée, she had the opportunity to showcase all her vocal talents: in “Quand la femme a vingt ans,” we hear both her Dalila-like sensuality in long coloratura lines that made me jump out of my seat. And this was all in Act one…

Comradery, thy name is Étienne Dupuis. The Canadian Baritone embodied the most caregiving of all characters. In a queer-baiting couple, Sancho is extremely attentive to Quichotte and seeks to understand the struggles of his partner. Musically, Dupuis’ great phrasing and acting abilities were especially apparent in the fourth act. Having heard Dupuis singing more than a few times—a privilege of those who live in Paris—, I fear repeating myself describing the specificities of his instrument. A solid baritone voice, with good emission, Dupuis perhaps distinguishes himself less for the timbre of his voice than for his flexibility as an actor and his attentiveness to the text. Usually cast as the “bad guy,” Dupuis thrives when he is meant to be nurturing. His words have a received enunciation and his voice entered in full anger mode solely when he was trying to defend Quichotte from his own ghosts. This performance was a nice introduction to the tender side of Dupuis.

Under the direction of Patrick Fournillier, Paris Opera’s orchestra sounded a bit less competent than usual. The strings, particularly, showed some difficulty playing together and in tune. There were beautiful solos, nevertheless. Some moments, however, felt disconnected; the guitar, for instance,  sounded too aloof from the singing and from the rest of the orchestra. Still, it was a solid performance.

The fate of Massenet’s “Don Quichotte” in America has not been the best; as far as I know, it has not been performed in New York for almost a century. There might be reasons for that. Although the opera is particularly striking, it is a bit prolix, and the Don Quijote myth might be too distorted from its original form for many tastes. Paris Opera’s new staging aims to emend that fate, but making all events the expression of Quichotte’s mind deprives the opera of its humor, even as it enables the audience to see the struggles of a tormented mind. The staging, full of good intentions, is too confusing for its own sake, but—with the aid of a good cast—it does not fail to bring a message to one’s attention: the danger of living only according to the guidance of our aspirations. Impoverishing to the world thereby reduced to hallucinations that are but the terrible manifestations of our own ego, it proves impoverishing to that all-powerful ego itself; haunted by desires without external impediments, we are thereby prevented from truly accepting something inside ourselves.

The post Opéra National de Paris 2024 Review: Don Quichotte appeared first on OperaWire.

The Royal Opera House has announced a cast change for the June 28, 2023 performance of “Werther.”

The company revealed that tenor Jonas Kaufmann has withdrawn from the production due to illness. In his stead, audiences will hear Juan Diego Flórez in the title role.

The Peruvian tenor returns to the Massenet opera after performances at the ROH in 2019. He first performed the role of “Werther” at the Opernhaus Zürich in 2017. At the ROH, Flórez has also  performed in such operas as “La bohème,” “Orphée et Eurydice,” “La Fille du régiment,” “La donna del lago,”” Il barbiere di Siviglia,” and “Mathilde di Shabran” at the Royal Opera House.

Flórez joins a cast starring Aigul Akhmetshina as Charlotte as well as Alastair Miles, Gordon Bintner, and Sarah Gilford, among others. Antonio Pappano conducts. 

“Werther” runs through July 4. As of this writing, the ROH website still indicates that Kaufmann is expected to return for the last two showcases.

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The tale epitomises to perfection, the quintessential requirements of verismo opera: passion, jealousy, love, tragedy and inevitable death.

The love here isn’t exactly unrequited but the object of the poet Werther’s passions and desires, Charlotte, has promised her dearly departed mother that she will marry another, Albert. Naturally, our intrepid hero isn’t best pleased and engages in several implorations designed to change her mind, including the threat of his own demise if she doesn’t acquiesce. Whilst she does relent in the end, she does so only on the realization that her paramour is, indeed, intent on ending it all and leaves it too late to save him, having to cradle him in her arms whilst she assuages his dying breaths with her protestations of her love for him.

Quite. All very tragic indeed….

Ostensibly, such a dark, morose tale makes it difficult to imagine it could ever be made into a work of much beauty. Whoever said truth is stranger than fiction might well have been commenting on “The Sorrows of Young Werther,” from which Massenet created this opera. Werther is an individual who personified exactly the flourishing Romanticism embraced and advocated by Goethe himself and which subsequently pervaded throughout Europe. His book resonated with and affected so many young people to such an extent that they allegedly killed themselves in significant numbers, in sympathy with Werther creating something of a most macabre fad or vogue.

The Main Attraction

Had primo tenore Jonas Kaufmann been alive in the time of Massenet, then on this showing I have no doubt he would have written the role of Werther specifically with the German tenor in mind. Much has been made recently of the superstar tenor’s voice, particularly with his propensity to resorting to sing inordinately long periods in his unique, floated pianissimo style, what some unkind critics have referred to as a “half-voiced croon,” but I found him here to be musically secure and evocative. Yes, he punctuated a lot of his passages sotto voce but I found that approach to totally befit the overly melancholic, dark character he was portraying, resulting in him delivering a most engaging and, at times, spell-binding performance that commanded absolute attention, drawing one in and empathising with his heartache.

It’s true that his voice occasionally failed to surmount the orchestral crescendos, and he noticeably stepped forward, at times, in his attempts to better permeate the theatre with his upper register at key moments, but I believe any vocal foibles here to be as a result of a slight illness he may be carrying rather than the doom-laden suspicions of some that Kaufmann may be approaching the cessation of his reign at the top.

His Act two ‘Un autre est son époux!’ was truly mesmerising. His exclaimed ‘It is I whom she could have loved’ genuinely endears one to his turmoil and evokes sympathy for his plight, no mean feat considering his somewhat self-absorbed, and occasionally selfish behaviour. 

His Act three keynote aria, ‘Pourquoi me réveiller?’ was delivered with passion and sensitivity, the first ‘ô souffle du printemps?’ sung on the one, single breath, although I did detect some difficulty in him executing the top ‘A’s. Again, I consider this symptomatic of a bug or cold rather than genuine vocal decline.

© Bill Cooper_088.JPG

The Star of the Show

No matter, even a top form Kaufmann would still have done well to surpass the extraordinary performance given by Russian Mezzo-Soprano Aigul Akhmetshina. She has already been hailed as ‘The new Netrebko’, and whilst her voice is genuinely redolent of Netrebko at her most potent, I genuinely believe she has the gifts to surpass the achievements and acclaim of her fellow Russian.

From her opening line, ‘Eh, bien, Père, es-tu content d’eux?’ to the final utterance, ‘Werther! Ah! Tout est fini!’, she delivered a mesmerizingly beautiful voice of wide-ranging palette. Her instrument is a remarkably rich, creamy, and seductive mezzo, penetrative but beautifully resonant. Her rendition in Act three of ‘Werther! Qui m’aurait dit … Ces lettres!’, was sublime and the house agreed, delivering the only in-performance applause of the evening. Her interpretations of surrogate mother to her siblings in Act one, through loyal, dutiful spouse to Albert in act two, to remorseful, subjugated lover of Werther in the final act was entirely convincing, such is the conviction of her acting and the expressiveness of her voice.

The applause at her curtain call was tumultuous and unparalleled, and Kaufmann, literally, lifted her off her feet in visible jubilation, acknowledging her achievements. A luminary of the distinguished Jette Parker Young Artists Programme, Akhmetshina’s stardom has been forecast for a while now, having garnered five-star reviews for performances as “Carmen,” Rosina in “Il Barbiere di Siviglia”, Elisabetta “Maria Stuarda” and as Lola in “Cavalleria Rusticana” as well as in other performances. I confidently predict that on this performance, her star is well and truly born.

British soprano and Cardiff Singer of the World finalist Sarah Gilford makes her debut here as Sophie, a delightfully sweet soprano who positively enchants and entrances.  Her entreaties to Werther in Act two, ‘Du gai soleil, plein de flamme’ were utterly endearing, delivered with an almost ‘Snow-White’ charm and sweetness, whilst still managing to avoid saccharinity. Her gentleness and joie de vivre are almost palpable and one is left wondering how even Werther, entrenched as he is in his misery, could decline a dance with this beauty.

Likewise, her interactions with Charlotte in Act three after the latter has finished reading the letters from Werther, her compassion and concern for her older sister is tangible and she sings here with wonderful poignancy.

Werther’s foil, in the shape of Albert, is performed here by Canadian bass-baritone Gordon Bintner. Handsome in stature, looks and in voice, his sonorous baritone was most pleasing, surmounting even the most ardent orchestral passages. His ‘Elle m’aime…elle pense à moi!’ was impassioned and assertive. His strong presence, charm and character almost leave one wondering why Charlotte might wish to usurp him with Werther!

Royal Opera House veteran British bass Alastair Miles gets to grips with the role of Le Bailli, Charlotte’s father. His bass has an opulent warmth, a vibrant yet pleasing assuredness. His role of the widowed father of a large family could easily fall prey to cliché but he produces an accomplished and convincing performance here as compassionate guardian to his children.

The start of Act two sees some much-needed comedic interjection, courtesy of the local village drunks, Johann and Schmidt, friends of the Bailli, played by James Cleverton and Christophe Mortagne, respectively. Their animated and comical life observations, delivered courtesy of their ‘Vivat, Bacchus  – Semper vivat!’, was genuinely funny. Curiously, tenor Mortagne is the only naturally French speaking artist in the production.

Old But Sturdy

Benoît Jacquot’s production here is almost twenty years old, but ostensibly, it appears as though it could be much older. Set and lighting designer Charles Edwards seems almost to pay homage to Jacquot’s expansive film-directing career, employing moody, cinematographic lighting that created looming, almost foreboding shadows, fitting for such an unavoidably gloomy tale.

The sets in the first two acts are expansive yet minimalist, act one depicting a simple garden/courtyard with a running water fountain and wall-climbing foliage that creates a rather austere scene. It is this restrained set that introduces the chief protagonists in the tale and establishes the stories framework, ending with Werther himself in front of the fallen curtain at the cessation of the act, symbolising his increasing isolation and desperation. Act two presents a large backdrop, somewhat naïve in its artistry, a mere expanse of blue sky behind a low, ornate wall that does little by way of enhancing any of the highly emotive occurrences taking place here.

Act three is a more convincing affair; a house interior, that of Charlotte and her husband, Albert. Its effectiveness is greater compounded when the rear facing door opens to reveal falling snow against the blackness of the night at the end of the act, as Charlotte steps out, preluding the imminent tragedy about to unfold.

The final act, in stark contrast to the sets of the other acts, is quite brilliant in its concept and almost as brilliant in its execution. The curtain rises to reveal Werther, mortally wounded with a self-inflicted pistol shot, in a half-seated, half-laying position in his abode, set as far back as the stage permits. Slowly, like a barely perceptible camera zoom or dolly shot, the set becomes larger as a combination of unseen stagehands and mechanics gradually propels him towards the front of the stage. I say ALMOST perfect in its execution because there were clear difficulties in maintaining a constant motion. There was a period where the set stopped advancing completely and a couple of very loud clunking noises where obvious issues with the set mechanism occurred. It did little, however, to detract from what was a most effective and quite engrossing effect.

Last word must go to the magnificent and accomplished orchestra of the Royal Opera House. Antonio Pappano has made no secret that “Werther” is amongst his favourite operas, “Perhaps my most favourite”. He has a most beautiful piece of art to work with here in the form of Massenet’s divine score and he elicits the most exquisite sounds from this orchestra. Particularly of note were solos in the first act, involving violin and cello, but Pappano produced sheer magic here with these amazing musicians throughout all four acts, always somehow managing to moderate the orchestration to allow the voices to permeate through. I believe the end of his tenure here will represent a huge, if not irreplaceable, loss to the opera house.   

The post Royal Opera House 2022-23 Review: Werther appeared first on OperaWire.

The 1950s saw the rollout of electricity across rural Ireland, a process that significantly changed not just the countryside but also the lives of its people. Electrical appliances such as kettles, cookers, hairdryers and lighting meant that life in many ways became more comfortable and freed up time for leisure activities. Moreover, it impacted traditional roles and experiences of rural people. Women, the traditional homemakers, now found greater freedom to pursue other interests as household chores became less time consuming. The people’s values and attitudes were, however, much slower to change. Anyone bold enough to step too far from the accepted codes of behavior would soon find themselves challenged. Young men who decided to engage with the emotional and artistic side of their nature risked ridicule or worse.

This was the context that the director Sophie Motley decided upon for her presentation of Irish National Opera’s production of Massenet’s “Werther.”

Werther In An Irish Setting

It was a bold call by Motley; the idea of centering the drama against the background of electrification in a rural community may sound rather strange, and removing the drama from the context of 18^th or 19^th century bourgeois society may appear to be sidestepping one of the fundamental drivers of the work. Yet, it worked splendidly in bringing out the societal pressures and conflicts that make Werther and Charlotte’s love untenable and which ultimately lead to Werther taking his own life.

Charlotte is the daughter of a bailiff and thus a step apart from the rural community in which she lives. She is, in effect, a member of the petit-bourgeoise. She has a little more financial security than most of her neighbors and can afford a better lifestyle, but she is bound by the rigid, conservative values of her class, which are reinforced by the heavy traditions of a static rural society. She has also found herself in tight circumstances from which she cannot escape; not only has she had to take on the responsibilities of looking after her now orphaned siblings, but she also promised her dying mother that she would marry the staid, middle class Alfred, neither of which she can ignore. Therefore, when the passionate and rebellious Werther appears on the scene and awakens feelings in her that have hitherto laid dormant, she is forced to suppress them. After all, this is 1950s rural Ireland, where women’s roles were strictly defined and expectations and pressures to conform were strong. This is the point at which the story could have ended, but the introduction of electricity changes everything.

Having done the right thing and married Alfred, Charlotte is now responsible for looking after her new home, but with Alfred often away, without children to look after and with the help of recently installed electricity she has plenty of free time to read and re-read Werther’s letters and to muse and reflect on her feelings for him. The gateway to Werther’s tragedy has now been opened.

Motley was aided in her staging by costume and set designer Sarah Bacon and lighting designer Sarah Jane Shiels. The costumes relied on standard 1950s designs that clearly drew attention to the characters’ social position, so that Albert was always neatly dressed in semi-formal attire, which made him look fairly dull and conformist; Werther was more flamboyantly costumed to suggest his non-conformist attitude; and Charlotte was fashionable, smart, clean and presentable to reveal that she had access to money and was of good standing.

It would not be unfair to suggest that Irish National Opera productions tend to be conservative with regard to the amount of money they spend on sets. On a scale, with lavish at one end and minimalist at the other, the productions usually lean towards the minimalist end of the scale, and this was certainly the case with their production of “Werther.” Nevertheless, and notwithstanding this fact, Bacon’s designs were successful in developing and promoting the drama. In Act two, set in the church hall, the community celebrates its connection to the electricity grid, and although the staging was simple, it was cleverly and amusingly staged. There was bunting and a large banner across the stage, as well as a table with electrical items to be won. The final act was little more than a bare set, representing an empty field upon which Charlotte comforts the dying Werther as the snow falls. It worked superbly in creating the intimacy and isolation into which the two lovers have been thrust.

Motley’s management of the scenes was excellent throughout. The relationships between all the characters were clearly depicted, and her use of the small stage and small cast created lively, crowded and energetic scenes, such as that in the church hall, which she successfully contrasted with more intimate scenes in which Werther and Charlotte were alone. Her character portrayals were convincingly developed, which brought depth to the presentation and allowed Charlotte’s bourgeois values, supported by the traditional values of the community, to collide with Werther’s romantic sense of freedom, and his rejection, of commonly held attitudes, and to cause Charlotte’s own inner torment.

It was also a production that highlighted Charlotte’s own tragedy in having to marry a man she does not love simply to satisfy the community and, to an extent, her own prejudices. Something that is not at all uncommon in close communities the world over, let alone 1950s rural Ireland. Moreover, Motley’s treatment of Werther successfully brought out his isolation, alienated from the community by his romantic sensitivities and brooding personality. A young man in 1950s rural Ireland who did not conform to the traditional masculine role, who looked to the arts, and who cultivated his romantic nature would have been unlikely to find much sympathy, and was destined to remain an outsider.

As a touring production playing in theaters of varying sizes across Ireland, some of which are quite small, it was inevitable that the orchestra would have to be reduced in size. Philipp Pointer, conducting the Irish National Opera Orchestra, produced a wonderful rendition of Richard Peirson’s new arrangement of the score for just 12 musicians. Not only was he able to generate sufficient strength and depth from the orchestra to convey the dramatic nuances of the piece, but Peirson’s impressive arrangement allowed for a wide inventive array of textures in what was a clear and clean-sounding performance.

O’Sullivan Leads An Excellent Cast

Mezzo-soprano Niamh O’Sullivan produced a compelling performance in the role of Charlotte, with a powerful presentation that plumbed the depths of her emotional being. Over the course of the evening, the audience watched on as the initially responsible and morally correct young woman was torn apart by her conflicted feelings and a love she ultimately could not control. It was a believable, intelligent and subtle characterization, one in which Charlotte was allowed to develop naturally in response to the pressures around her.

O’Sullivan possesses a fascinating voice that is able to draw in the listener. She has a rich, colorful palette, a natural, easy lyricism, a warm lower register with depth, and her phrasing is beautifully crafted, which gives her singing a refined air. The role of Charlotte, however, also requires a dramatic dimension, and she did not disappoint. Engaging fully with Charlotte’s changing and conflicted feelings, she coated the voice in a variety of emotions, employing a wide range of colors and dynamic accents, and pushed confidently into her upper register as her passions rose. She was loving, confused, frustrated, angry and, at times, fiery. The emotions tumbled forth, and they did so with a suitable electric frisson, yet her voice was always secure and controlled.

The young Italian tenor, Paride Cataldo, who was cast in the title role, immediately caught the attention with his distinctive, rich, lyrical singing. He possesses a voice that positively oozes passion, and his ability to spin out long, inviting lines and push the voice upwards with strength and ease is captivating. Unsurprisingly, he made an ardent, fervent Werther; his voice alone ensured this much. Each aria was beautifully delivered and the scenes with O’Sullivan, particularly in the final act, were spellbinding; the two voices combined exquisitely, both were expressively strong, both infused their lines with passion and energy, and both created the necessary tension to bring the scene fully alive.

Although, only at the start of his career, he has already made his debut at La Scala, albeit in a small role, but be assured you will be hearing more of Cataldo in the future.

Baritone Charles Rice was a particularly dislikable Albert. As a typical bourgeois, he was suitably well-mannered and correct, but his superficiality was obvious. On realizing that Werther was going to kill himself, he could barely conceal his joy; he would not have wanted to deal with the problem directly. His singing was nicely crafted to meet his situation. Initially, he sounded somewhat bland, which successfully gave the impression that his true emotions were being suppressed. As the drama progressed, however, and his passions started to break through, there were injections of emotion.

Sophie, Charlotte’s younger sister, was played by soprano Sarah Shine. Although not a large role, it does have the potential to showcase the qualities of a young singer, and Shine took full advantage by producing a clearly defined reading that displayed her clear, bright upper register, vocal flexibility and expressivity to good effect.

Baritone Wyn Pencarreg cut a fine, upstanding figure as the Bailiff, who was neatly integrated into the community, highlighting the context in which Charlotte lived and drawing further attention to Werther’s isolation. He has a warm, appealing timbre and sang with clarity and confidence.

The roles of Schmidt and Johann were parted by tenor Eamonn Mulhall and baritone Owen Gilhooly-Miles. Both gave solid performances as workers for the electricity company. Presumably, they were recent arrivals in the village and will soon leave. The fact that they so easily slipped into the life of the community, once again, drew attention to Werther’s isolation.

The idea of setting the opera in 1950s rural Ireland, despite sounding somewhat contrived, actually worked very well in developing the work’s themes and did a fine job in uncovering the societal pressures to which Charlotte is subjected. Ultimately, this was a splendid musical performance from all involved.

The review is of the performance at Dundalk’s An Táin theatre.

The post Irish National Opera 2022-23 Review: Werther appeared first on OperaWire.

Over the past few years, the young singer has witnessed her profile rise quickly on the European opera circuit, notching up regular performances in Munich and Zurich as well as establishing herself in her native Ireland, where she has featured in numerous productions with INO, including Asteria in Vivaldi’s “Bazajet.” At the 2022 Wexford Festival Opera, she performed the role of Mirza in David’s “Lalla-Rouhk,” for which she received praise for her “light vibrato, wonderful vocal coloring, delicate coloratura and attractive phrasing.” She has already proven herself adept at singing a diverse range of roles from the baroque to French, German and Italian Romanticism and more contemporary works, most recently as Alva in Dennehy’s “The First Child.”

With INO’s tour of “Werther” about to start in Letterkenny on 22^nd April, OperaWire thought it would be an excellent opportunity for an interview.

The production will play at venues across the country, ending 14^th May in Dun Laoghaire.

OperaWire: What was your pathway into opera?

Niamh O’Sullivan: As a child, I did a lot of performing in musicals, dance and drama. Then, in my early teens, people started telling me that I had a voice that might be suitable for classical singing. As is the case with most teenagers, opera was not something I wanted to do, but eventually I thought I would give it a try. So, I went up to Dublin to talk with Dr, Veronica Dunne, and she convinced me to study with her. I was with her for three years. Then, when I was taking part in a competition in Ireland, I was spotted and asked to audition for Munich. I gave it a try and got a position with Bayerische Opera, which meant I had to cut short my studies in Ireland. The first year in the studio in Munich was a quite difficult one, both mentally and vocally; I didn’t feel ready or up to the required level. I was very young and had the attitude of a typical student, but they were really supportive. In the second year, however, I really got into the swing of things and progressed vocally. It was an amazing experience. I was working with my idols and could hear and see the level I had to reach.

When I finished the studio, in many ways I felt I was back to square one. Getting roles was difficult. I was only 23, and people thought that I was too young to perform the roles for which I was suitable. I am not a high mezzo. I couldn’t sing Cherubino, for example, and I was too young to sing Carmen. At the time, I felt I needed more guidance. But I was fortunate! I found a good teacher, and the Bayerische Staatsoper brought me back to do a few roles. Then I got a position at Zurich, which was a great opportunity and enabled me to move forward.

OW: You are currently playing Charlotte in “Werther” with Irish National Opera. What are your thoughts about the character?

NO’S: Charlotte is a role I have dreamt of performing, but I didn’t think I would have the opportunity to do so so early in my career.

Charlotte has an amazing journey. She is a simple, young girl who was given the responsibility of looking after the children when her mother died. So she is family-oriented, stays at home and keeps the promises she made to her mother to stay with Albert. Suddenly, Werther arrives on the scene, and her whole life is turned on its head. She stops having time for the children and no longer cares for Albert; who knows if she ever really did love him or whether she was just keeping her promises to her mother?

Her life is now consumed with Werther. She moves from a simple life to one of desperation, in which she is torn between her duty to the family and Albert and her love for Werther. It is really interesting to see how she attempts to navigate a way through these competing pressures.

Although not much time passes from the beginning to the end of the opera, she develops into a confused character with no idea what to do. At the beginning, she could have gone off with him, but she doesn’t because she thinks it isn’t the right thing to do. And when she decides that she wants to, it is too late .

OW: What difficulties have you found with the role?

NO’S: It is a huge challenge, both vocally and dramatically. Charlotte has very lyrical moments but also quite dramatic moments too, which are difficult to navigate; it uses two gears of the voice. You need to keep the lightness and brightness as well as the beautiful round color, but then you also need strong, almost aggressive singing as well, which is something new to me. I am lyrical, not dramatic, and I need to keep hold of the beauty and the lyrical coloring when I am singing the more dramatic parts. It is a good challenge for me, as I would like to move towards the more dramatic later in my career.

OW: How is it going to be presented?

NO’S: It is set in 1950s rural Ireland at the time of electrification. So instead of Charlotte and Werther going to the ball, they are going to an event celebrating electrification. It is something the director Sophie Motley came up with because when electricity was introduced across Ireland, it was a big event. I know it might sound a little funny, but it changed the everyday lives of the people. So initially, we see Charlotte following a simple way of life, washing things by hand and so on, then suddenly, with the introduction of electricity, she has more time on her hands. She has less to do and therefore more time to focus on other things outside the home.

OW: It is being toured across Ireland. Do you like touring, or do you prefer being in a fixed location?

NO’S: I suppose there are benefits and disadvantages to both. Touring can be quite tiring. With “Werther,” we will be doing a show every other night for two and a half weeks, and during the days in between we will be traveling. But touring allows you to bond with the rest of the cast, and that is something I like! Also on this tour, I will get to see parts of Ireland that I have never seen. Actually, we will be performing in Cork, and I am really excited about it; all my family and friends will be there.

Many of the theaters we will be playing in are fairly small, so space is limited. It has, therefore, been decided that we shall perform it as a chamber piece. The orchestra will only have 12 musicians.

We have also decided to cut quite a lot from the performance. It will last for only about two hours, plus an interval. The reason is that it is not an opera that everyone knows, and we will traveling to remote areas where there might be some people who may not know anything about opera and so we shortened it. My role has survived almost completely in tact; just a few little bits have been cut.

OW: Describe your voice?

NO’S: I am a lyric mezzo, but more toward the alto end. I have a rich, round color and it is quite flexible at the top, although I feel more comfortable in the middle and lower ranges. I think it is a very natural voice. As a child, I had a good voice, and, at times, this can get you into trouble because you feel you don’t need the technique as it all comes quite easily. However, I soon learned that you do need the technique, especially for a role like Charlotte; a natural voice can only get you so far. You have to have the tools to work with it.

OW: You sing a wide variety of roles. Is there a particular style or composer you prefer?

NO’S: I have had some success with the smaller Wagner roles, and eventually I would love to do some of the bigger parts like Kundry or Fricka. Also, I love singing in German, and maybe because I have spent so much time in Germany, I feel very close t6o the language. I would like to sing some Strauss roles, such as Ariadne. I feel that is where my voice is going.

I also want to do more French Romantic pieces. I don’t do much in Italian, although I felt comfortable singing Handel and Vivaldi, but the agile coloratura stuff isn’t my thing.

Lieder again comes to me quite naturally. I think that comes from my Irish background as we are storytellers. With lieder, you are telling a very intimate story; the song is all about the story. There is no set. It’s just you telling a story. I love the intimacy. I find it really satisfying. Certainly, lieder is something I would like to do more of. It won’t be easy to schedule as I have so many opera engagements planned, but I am determined to fit it in.

OW: What are your plans over then next 12 to 24 months?

NO’S: I will be going to the academy in Aix-en-Provence this summer, and then straight after that I will be singing in “Das Rheingold” at Covent Garden. Then I will be back in Zurich for a “Götterdämmerung,” Mercedes in “Carmen” and another “Das Rheingold,” and then I am off to Heidenheim where I will be singing Suzuki in “Madama Butterfly.” So I am really busy.

The post Q & A: Niamh O’Sullivan On Her Role Debut As Charlotte In Irish National Opera’s Production Of ‘Werther’ appeared first on OperaWire.

First up will be an aria and ensembles concert. That showcase will feature music by Rossini, Thomas, Poulenc, Britten, Gounod, Massenet, and Donizetti from such operas as “Guillaume Tell,” “Semiramide,” “Il Barbiere di Siviglia,” “Hamlet,” “Dialogues des Carmélites,” “Gloriana,” “Faust,” “Don Pasquale,” “Werther,” and “La Cenerentola.”

Performers include Martina Russomanno, Alejandro Baliña Vietes, Marine Chagnon, Adrien Mathonat, Andres Cascante, Teona Todua, Thomas Ricart, Laurence Kilsby, Seray Pinar, Margarita Polonskaya, Boriárksa Brindás, and Yiorgo Ioannou.

Nil Vendetti conducts the Orchestre de l’Opéra de Paris.

Performance Date: Dec. 14, 2022

 That will be followed up by a concert entitled “Carte blanche à Gustavo Dudamel.” The Music Director of the Opéra National de Paris will lead a performance of music by Bernstein, Villa Lobos, Guastavino, Codina, Weill, Granados, Piazzolla, Barbieri, and Obradors.

This performance will be streamed on the radio via France Musique; audiences can also watch the concert on ARTE.

Performance Date: Jan. 23, 2023

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Royal Opera House and Guildhall School Composer-in-Residence Oliver Leith and librettist Matt Copson adapted the 2005 Gus Van Sant film about the last days of the iconic Nirvana frontman, Kurt Cobain, to create “Last Days.” The opera tells the story of Blake, a musician who fled rehab to return home. Yet, objects, visitors, and memories haunt him, distracting him from his true purpose—self-destruction. Copson co-directed the work with Anna Morrissey.

Performance Dates: Oct. 7-11, 2022

“Looking West, Vaughn Williams’ 150th Birthday” is a concert-theater work created by Head of Composition at Guildhall School, Julian Philips, and librettist Rebecca Hurst. Nova Music Trust commissioned the work, along with Presteigne Festival, to celebrate the composer’s 150th birthday. Joining the Guildhall musicians on stage will be vocal artists soprano Rebecca Bottone and mezzo-soprano Rebecca Afonwy-Jones. The piece will receive its London premiere on Williams’ birthday.

Performance Date: Oct. 12, 2022

In November, Guildhall School will present an opera triple bill comprising Massenet’s one-act sequel to “Manon,” “Le Portrait de Manon;” Dame Ethel Smyth’s “Fête Galante,” based on themes of mistaken identity and disguise; and Nino Rota’s one-act “I due timidi,” a comedic work described as a romance gone wrong. The works will be conducted by Dominic Wheeler and directed by Rodula Gaitanou.

Performance Dates: Nov. 7-14, 2022

Vocal performances conclude in December with “Autumn Opera Scenes,” showcasing singers and repetiteurs from the first year of Guildhall School’s Opera course. The concert will include classical and contemporary operatic excerpts.

Performance Dates: Dec. 1-6, 2022

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