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A Vocal Treat, Tetelman and Akhmetshina Berlin
Deutsche Oper
07/23/2025 - & July 25, 2025
Jules Massenet: Werther
Jonathan Tetelman (Werther), Aigul Akhmetshina (Charlotte), Dean Murphy (Albert), Lilit Davtyan (Sophie), Michael Bachtadze (Le bailli), Gerard Farreras (Johann), Chance Jonas‑O’Toole (Schmidt), Karis Tucker (Kätchen), Jörg Schörner (Brühlmann)
Kinderchor der Deutschen Oper Berlin, Christian Lindhorst (chorus master), Orchester der Deutschen Oper Berlin, Enrique Mazzola (conductor)
A. Akhmetshina, J. Tetelman (© Bettina Stöss)
Nineteenth Century French opera once enjoyed great popularity, but in the last half century, public enthusiasm for it has waned. One reason is the dearth, in the educational system, of specialized vocal training, especially in the French style, in the now‑globalized operatic sphere. Without an understanding of this style, and without the elegance and clear diction required, these operas are but a painful exercise for audiences, replete with dated mannerisms. At best, they’re generic pieces lacking in style or context.
Luckily, there have been a few non-native speaking performers over the years who’ve risen to the occasion, who’ve made French opera sound authentically stylish, including Alfredo Kraus, Nicolai Gedda, Neil Shicoff, Victoria de Los Angeles, Catherine Malfitano, Jeannette Pilou and Ileana Cotrubas.
In recent years, France, Switzerland, Belgium and Canada have each produced remarkable singers who’ve admirably served the proud legacy of French operatic repertoire. Some of the finest Francophone singers working today are Roberto Alagna, Benjamin Bernheim, Karine Deshayes, Sabine Devieilhe, Julien Dran, Etienne Dupuis, Véronique Gens, Sophie Koch, Marie‑Nicole Lemieux, Michèle Losier, Sandrine Piau, Philippe Sly, Ludovic Tézier and Marina Viotti. However, despite these and other performers, most productions of Gallic opera feature non‑native speakers and are rarely performed understandably or in the proper style.
Chilean-born American tenor Jonathan Tetelman is a rising star who’s taken the opera world by storm. Heard two weeks ago as Turridu in Cavalleria rusticana, he was vocally strong, yet elegant, a major accomplishment in verismo, where vulgarity comes easily. His lyric tenor may have been too light for the role, but he was able to darken his voice and to imbue drama without forcing. In contrast, his youthful timbre and supple lyric tenor were ideally suited for the role of Werther.
From the pre-performance and intermission chatter, it was clear the majority of the audience were Tetelman fans, eager to hear him in a work that has not graced Berlin’s three opera houses for decades. It was also clear from the effusive applause they were not disappointed. How could they have been? Tetelman delivered a beautiful performance in which his ringing high notes were astonishingly effortless. Pity this wasn’t a staged production, as his dramatic engagement equaled his vocal excellence.
His Act I aria, “O Nature, pleine de grâce,” was well sung, but perhaps the one aria in which his phrasing was lacking. Despite its vocal excellence, it was generic, not revealing Werther’s dreamy character or detachment from reality that led to his eventual suicide. The pivotal line “et toi soleil, viens m’inonder de tes rayons” was forgettable. It could have been about the deep blue sea or his laundry list.
His Act II aria, “Un autre est son époux !”, as powerful an aria as can be found, was more impressive, given its dramatic register. Though there was no colouring of the crucial line “C’est moi qu’elle pouvait aimer”, the aria was effective given its melodramatic quality, which requires less nuance.
His Act III “Pourquoi me réveiller ?,” the opera’s most famous aria and one of the most popular tenor arias, was elegantly and beautifully interpreted. As it is frequently sung in recital, it was more rehearsed than the others. Beyond vocal bravura, this was a magnificent and near flawless rendition. Even the phrasing, somewhat lacking in much of the opera, was excellent. Needless to say, it brought the house down. Given that the performance centered on Tetelman, it was astonishing that a bis of this popular aria was denied.
In all his arias, there was a tendency to excessive exuberance, especially disappointing in French opera, but the beauty of Tetelman’s glorious voice and the admirable quality of his high notes was more than enough to compensate. The public came for Tetelman and they got their money’s worth.
Russian mezzo Aigul Akhmetshina was a luminous Charlotte. Her lush, velvety mezzo is truly seductive: feminine, fruity, uniquely distinct, and replete with natural trills. It’s a dream come true. Not since Bulgarian mezzo Vesselina Kasarova has there been such a marvellous mezzo voice. Unlike Kasarova, Akhmetshina has a huge voice. At this early stage of the twenty-nine-year-old’s career, her voice is a perfect fit for Il barbiere di Siviglia’s Rosina, a role she sings frequently worldwide.
For some, her voice is too feminine and mature, almost maternal, for young Charlotte. I beg to differ: she is the ideal Charlotte, not a mezzo version of her soubrette sister, Sophie. Had she been, I doubt Werther would have been so badly smitten. Charlotte is maternal to her young orphaned siblings, and is likely bookish and introverted, a kindred spirit of Tatiana in Eugene Onegin.
Akhmetshina displayed more than decent French, second only to Lilit Davtyan’s Sophie in this multi‑national cast. She is also an intuitive singer with high sensibility. Unlike most, her diction was near impeccable. In Act III, despite her rich and supple timbre, she managed to convey Charlotte’s fragility in her two scenes “Werther ! Qui m’aurait dit ! Ces lettres !” and “Va ! Laisse couler mes larmes.” Despite an overly loud orchestra and a conductor with apparently little affinity for the music, she nuanced her performance, wisely forgoing histrionics, antithetical to French opera, and Massenet in particular.
Her Act I duet with Werther, “Il faut nous séparer”, one of the prettiest and most affecting in the repertoire, could have been sublime, given the two beautiful, expressive voices. It certainly pleased most in the audience for the sheer beauty of the music and voices. Alas, conductor Enrique Mazzola seemed to have mistaken Massenet for Puccini, playing it too loud, forcing the two singers to shout. The final result was a vocally dazzling finale of the duet, but it totally missed the point; it was neither nuanced nor remorseful. It sounded like a French version of La bohème’s “O soave fanciulla”. Astonishingly, the orchestral interlude between Acts III and IV – at least its melancholy introduction – was masterfully played, in part thanks to the glorious cellos.
Armenian lyric soprano Lilit Davtyan made an ideal ingénue Sophie, and revealed the best diction of the cast, managing to give Charlotte’s young sister more substance than usual. Her admiration for her sister and her desire for Werther were palpable without being obvious, quite a feat, considering the absence of director or staging. Davtyan’s light lyric voice contrasted beautifully with Charlotte’s in their Ac III duet, “Ah, le rire est béni.”
Though American baritone Dean Murphy was vocally suited for the role, his diction was muddled, making his portrayal of Albert overly dour. Again, this is an Italian interpretation of a jealous, despotic husband. Usually, Albert is more subtle in his jealousy. Nonetheless, Murphy’s voice was powerful, and with a more attentive conductor, he could have been a formidably imposing Albert.
The smaller roles were well sung, save Charlotte’s father, butchered by Georgian bass Michael Bachtadze, who sang in an indecipherable language, one far removed from that of Molière. Despite being intimate with the text, I couldn’t make head or tail of his garbled singing. As far as acting goes, he channeled a dotty old peasant. The bailiff is neither.
Perhaps it was in keeping with Mazzola’s fondness for big sound that an entire children’s chorus rehearsed “Noël, Noël,” rather than Charlotte’s half‑dozen siblings. Such a huge family may explain the premature death of the long‑suffering bailiff’s wife. If not from relentless childbirth, she could easily have perished from hearing and not understanding her tedious blowhard of a husband.
Ossama el Naggar
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