This is the 25th 
                disc in the Naxos "Opera Explained" 
                series and merits some celebration. 
                I do hope that the series will continue, 
                since I strongly believe in this type 
                of education. I have seen some adverse 
                criticism and I now and then hear people 
                stating that music should be listened 
                to without preconceptions or analysis. 
                But how many football fans would bring 
                an uninformed friend to his first match 
                without at least telling him what the 
                idea of football is, what rules there 
                are etc? Thomson Smillie, who has written 
                all these introductions, finds the perfect 
                balance between elitism and being overly 
                explicit. The target-group is people 
                who are unacquainted with the subject 
                but this doesn’t mean that they are 
                fools. On the other hand Smillie is 
                so far-reaching that experienced opera 
                listeners can also harvest new insights. 
                Another asset with the series is the 
                narrator, David Timson, whose conversational 
                tone feels absolutely right. 
              
 
              
To begin with we get 
                a short background: to opera in general 
                and then more specifically to French 
                opera, a glimpse of the Italian (!) 
                Lully, who created a French opera style, 
                and then something about 19th 
                century opera, concluded by a survey 
                of the most significant French opera 
                composers of the century, of whom Massenet 
                was the last. And then headlong into 
                Werther, where the starting point 
                of course is Goethe’s novel, based on 
                his own unfortunate love-affair. When 
                we come to Werther’s suicide – Goethe 
                luckily didn’t kill himself but he had 
                a friend who did, so even this is based 
                on real life – Smillie infers that these 
                days Werther would probably have gone 
                to a psychiatrist instead. 
              
 
              
The act by act presentation 
                of the plot is illustrated by well-chosen 
                extracts from the complete Naxos recording. 
                Since they are often frustratingly cut 
                short as soon as one gets involved in 
                the music, they invite acquisition of 
                the complete set. However, there are 
                also some longer excerpts, among them 
                the whole Va! Laisse couler mes larmes, 
                Charlotte’s beautiful third act aria. 
                The singing is a little variable. The 
                lion’s share of these snippets is allotted 
                to Marcus Haddock, who has a beautiful 
                lyric-dramatic tenor voice and gives 
                a strong, impassioned reading of the 
                title role. That said, he does sound 
                sorely strained at some of the climaxes. 
                Overall, though, he gives a very positive 
                impression. His Charlotte is Béatrice 
                Uria-Monzon, who is more contralto than 
                mezzo-soprano. She is a good singer 
                but almost too formidable for this part 
                and she definitely sounds much too old 
                for an 18-year-old. This makes the mistake 
                in the cast-list, where she is described 
                as Werther’s daughter, even funnier. 
                Despite this, for her Va! Laisse 
                couler aria she fines her big voice 
                down admirably. Jaël Azzaretti 
                has a typically bright French lyric 
                soprano voice, agile, edgy and somewhat 
                monochrome. Veteran René Massis, 
                the little we hear of him, is quite 
                anonymous and makes Albert sound even 
                more of a stuffed shirt than usual. 
                Jean-Claude Casadesus’s conducting is 
                difficult to assess from these snippets 
                but the orchestra play well, the children’s 
                chorus is good and after the last chord 
                we hear a round of applause, reminding 
                us that this is a live recording. 
              
 
              
Recommended. More, 
                Mr Smillie, please! 
              
Göran Forsling