Massenet’s Werther in Italianate Splendor
Ferruccio Tagliavini (Werther), Pia Tassinari (Charlotte), Marcello Cortis (Albert), Vittoria Neviani (Sophie); Orchestra Sinfonica di Torino della RAI/Francesco Molinari-Pradelli
Warner Fonit 8573 87494–2 (2 CDs, 121:32) Recorded 1953
This Cetra reissue—one of those legendary 1950s recordings that circulated on LP with those distinctive sleeve designs—presents a Werther that asks you to forget everything you know about French style. And why not?
Ferruccio Tagliavini’s French is… well, let’s call it creative. It’s almost a dialect unto itself, vowels pushed and pulled into shapes Massenet might not recognize. But that voice—when he spins those ethereal mezza voce lines, floating up toward what sounds perilously close to falsetto, you stop caring about diction. The “Pourquoi me réveiller” has genuine poetry, even if the consonants go wandering. When the role demands power (and this is a strenuous part, more Verdian than people admit), he delivers with ringing, metal-edged tone that cuts through Molinari-Pradelli’s rather thick orchestral textures in Act Two.
Pia Tassinari brings a dark, almost contralto weight to Charlotte—this is no wan Parisian ingénue but a woman of Mediterranean blood and passion. Her Letter Scene erupts with outbursts that would be at home in Cavalleria Rusticana. “Va! laisse couler mes larmes” has genuine poignancy, though again, the French phonetics are approximate at best. But listen to the way she shapes “Il faut nous séparer” in Act One—that’s real vocal acting, even through the stylistic incongruities.
The supporting cast is variable. Vittoria Neviani’s Sophie trills and glitters with all the subtlety of a Christmas ornament—which may be exactly right for this character, opera’s most reliably ill-timed interrupter. Her French makes Tagliavini’s sound like the Comédie-Française. Marcello Cortis invests Albert with more passion than the role usually receives; he actually sounds jealous, which is something.
What holds this rendition together is Molinari-Pradelli’s conducting and—more importantly—the RAI orchestra’s playing. Massenet’s orchestration here is voluptuous, occasionally shameless (those harps!), and the Turin players luxuriate in it. The solo violin passages have a sensuous portamento that went out of fashion decades ago but sounds exactly right for this music. The woodwind solos are shaped with genuine affection. There are moments—many moments—when you want to just listen to the instruments and forget about the voices entirely.
Because here’s the thing: Massenet’s Werther isn’t really French in the way Debussy or Ravel is French. It’s set at Christmas in Frankfurt but sounds like it could take place in the Latin Quarter—Puccini wrote La Bohème only four years later, and you can hear the connection. The melodic invention is gorgeous, frankly Italianate in its generosity. So why not embrace the Italian approach wholesale?
Over the decades we’ve had Domingo’s virile assumption, Gedda’s stylish but somewhat cool reading, even an aging Kraus bringing his characteristic intensity. This 1953 document holds its own against them—not for linguistic purity (forget that), but for sheer vocal beauty and dramatic commitment. Yes, there are cuts. Yes, the mono sound is what it is. The booklet offers no biographical information, no release details beyond the bare facts.
But that voice of Tagliavini, spinning out those phrases with such tenderness… That’s what you’ll remember. If you want perfect French, look elsewhere. If you want singing that makes you understand why people fell in love with opera in the first place, this will do very nicely indeed.
