Yes, Goethe also occurs. Excerpts from “The Sorrows of Young Werther” are projected onto the closed curtain in the Gärtnerplatztheater to accompany the four orchestral introductions. Of course, Jules Massenet’s “Werther”, which premiered in 1892, cannot live up to the philosophical background of the epistolary novel. But the opera, shown here in the original French, achieves something just as great dramaturgically: to tell a non-relationship over four acts, which is nevertheless emotionally gripping, that between Werther and Charlotte. Where director Herbert Föttinger draws the female figure more tangibly than usual, Charlotte, before her unhappy marriage to Albert, gets involved with Werther almost to the point of having sex.
It suits the voice characters of the two. Lucian Krasznec sings Werther entirely in the French tradition, softly and with a high proportion of head voices. Sometimes his tenor gets a bit nasal, but the transition to the top and the dynamic modulation ability of the voice are enchanting. The top tones are spot on, but Krasznec draws a gentle character, closer to Goethe than to the bragging voice that can often be heard here.
This Werther is a tender procrastinator who gropes his way through the world in piano colors before he breaks. Sophie Rennert, on the other hand, takes on the role of Charlotte in an increasingly gripping and dramatic manner. At the beginning, her beautifully flowing, rather bright mezzo-soprano sounds out the quiet colors of mourning, still somewhat uncertainly. But in the second half the desperation erupts, increasing to a glowing intensity. What both have in common is the willingness to take risks with which they throw themselves into the game.
They are carried by Föttinger’s precise personal direction, which sets accents in a rather subtle way. For example, when the children’s choir not only sings as clear as a bell, but happily rages on through the bailiff’s house (refreshingly bourgeois: Levente Páll). Or Albert appears there in menacing backlight, later orders Charlotte into the marriage bed before visiting the dying Werther. Daniel Gutmann sings it with a grainy, if necessary nasty baritone. Ilia Staple, with her confident, finely articulated soprano, is also ideally cast as Charlotte’s charming sister Sophie.
Alfred Mayerhofer dressed them all in costumes from the time the opera was written, with open references to the present. The same mixture can be found in the four stage sets by Walter Vogelweider, which, thanks to Peter Hörtner’s filigree light, above all create atmosphere.
If the evening follows the elegiac Werther optically, the conducting takes Charlotte’s side, so to speak. Anthony Bramall approaches the score with gripping directness, drawing it in clear colors. The sovereign tempo modulation ensures a dramatic pulse, which still leaves room for many good solos in the house orchestra.
Both sides come together in death: Lucian Krasznec sings the death scene almost without a sound, while Sophie Rennert gently embraces him. A for the time being unspectacular, precisely because of that gripping opera evening.