They came for Jonas Kaufmann, but it was Aigul Akhmetshina who earned the storm of first night applause. Benoît Jacquot’s handsome staging of Massenet’s Werther isn’t yet box office dynamite on its fourth revival. When was the last time a Kaufmann show at the Royal Opera House had 100+ tickets available for every performance in the run? They're usually like gold dust. Kaufmann’s Werther is a known quantity – he performed the same production in Paris, which was filmed – but this was his house role debut all the same.
In the event, the German tenor was clearly under the weather as Goethe’s lovelorn poet. He struggled for volume throughout and there were audible hairline cracks running through his hooded voice. Consummate artist that he is, Kaufmann navigated his way through the evening, husbanding his resources and holding just enough in reserve to get through Werther’s big Act 3 aria, “Pourquoi me réveiller?” (despite some unidiomatic French). By Act 4, Werther’s gone and put a bullet through his chest anyway, so Kaufmann’s crooned death throes were suitably poignant.
At the curtain call, Kaufmann was quick to whip up the acclaim for his co-star, Aigul Akhmetshina. The Russian mezzo is well-loved here, a former Jette Parker Young Artist who has dazzled as Carmen and is destined to star in new productions of Bizet’s classic both here and at the Met next season. Massenet’s Charlotte is a different prospect, less femme fatale, more buttoned-up spouse, suppressing her love for Werther to honour her mother’s dying wish for her to marry dependable-but-dull Albert.
In her role debut, Akhmetshina pared back her voice early on to present a girlish character, briefly caught up in dreams of love before duty calls and a more dignified young woman emerges. By Act 3’s “Va! Laisse couler mes larmes”, the great scene where Charlotte pores over Werther’s letters, Akhmetshina unleased her plush mezzo for an emotional reading, underpinned by Massenet’s smouldering saxophone. Her character’s torture reaches its peak as she tends the dying Werther in the short final act, tragedy juxtaposed with the joyous off-stage carolling of children as the snowflakes tumble.
Sarah Gilford’s vivacious soprano made for a highly likeable Sophie and Canadian bass-baritone Gordon Bintner made for an upright Albert, coldly handing over his pistols to Werther’s servant. Alastair Miles imbued the Bailli with paternal warmth, while the roguish Johann and Schmidt were well animated by James Cleverton and Christophe Mortagne.
Werther is on a par with Manon, two doomed 18th-century love affairs. But where Manon is all surface glitter and eroticism, Werther is a more sombre, overwrought work, particularly in its rich orchestration. Sir Antonio Pappano is particularly deft with the thick oils of Massenet’s palette. The Royal Opera's Music Director seemingly lives in the Covent Garden pit these days, Wozzeck overlapping with Il trovatore overlapping with Werther, three operas making very different demands on the players. Once again, Pappano animated his forces in a theatrical reading, from the ripe ecstasy of poetic love to the anguished drama that follows. Quiet moments, such as the feathery string interlude in Act 1, were beautifully nuanced.
Jacquot’s staging, revived by Geneviève Dufour, does everything the libretto requires, the wide cinematic skies of Acts 1 and 2 contrasting with the constricting interiors of Acts 3 and 4. With a healthy tenor, this show deserves to sell out.
