It has been sixteen years since The Royal Opera last performed Massenet’s sumptuous Opéra Comique, Manon, which in itself is quite unforgiveable.  However, one must therefore ask if, on the basis of Laurent Pelly’s new production and the presence of a certain Russian superstar soprano, was it worth the wait? A qualified yes is my answer.  As with so many of Massenet’s operas, getting the right soprano for the title role is always rather problematic.  Thais requires a soprano capable of rich lyricism and an upper register which easily encompasses the high D, whilst Esclarmonde calls for an almost impossible combination of vocal qualities, including powerful hair-raising acuti, dazzling coloratura, and at times the power of a dramatic soprano to ride the lush Wagnerian orchestration.  Manon is somewhat less of a challenge, but it should not be underestimated.  It requires any interpreter to have a real appreciation for the idiosyncrasies of the French style.  If one listen’s to Emma Luart’s peerless recording of Manon from 1928, one can immediately appreciate how far we are now removed from producing singers who can dazzle and move us in this repertory, but still stay faithful to this style of singing.

Anna Netrebko now has legions of admirers, including critics who appear to forget their ears whenever they listen to this particular soprano.  I for one have always been somewhat sceptical about her qualifications for such a meteoric rise, but on this occasion I could understand to a certain degree, why she is so very popular, which makes her obvious shortcomings all the more infuriating.  There is no doubting the fact that she possesses an extremely attractive soprano and is a gifted stage actress, but her vocal technique is somewhat compromised.  In Acts I and II, there were frequent examples of poorly placed acuti and breaths taken at improper intervals, which ultimately spoiled the musical line.  Things improved somewhat later on, with one hair raising high D banishing memories of her previous attempt, which was thin, flat and inadequately placed.  “Adieu, notre petite table” was instantly forgettable, whilst her coloratura proved to be rather sketchy throughout, as evidenced in a rather plonking and stilted Gavotte (when will London ever hear the Fabliau composed for Mme Bréjeau-Silver as a replacement for the Gavotte?). Her French diction was also very mushy and indistinct (except in dialogue), making a mockery of her recent interview in The Guardian where she extolled the virtues of communicating the words.  It might seem that I am being rather harsh here, but she is, despite the above flaws, brimming full of potential and could indeed become a great singer if more vocal discipline is instilled.  There is also another reason to address this, and this is because I can safely predict that the vast majority of the UK press will gloss over the vocal problems.  She is always exciting, unfailingly charismatic and possesses a luxurious sound, but right now, she is still unfulfilled potential.  Her overall interpretation of Manon doesn’t really add any new insight to what has seen and heard a thousand times before, as it is still the same brainless French tart with a heart, which is a shame as Manon is so much more than this Reductio ad absurdum.  Needless to say, Netrebko looked magnificent on stage, even when Laurent Pelly dressed her in the most outrageous frilly pink creation in the Cours-la-Reine scene, which made her look like a young, glamorous Barbara Cartland, or quite possibly a fugitive from Gigi. But it was in Act V that Netrebko really came into her own, giving a believable and heart-felt performance which convinced of Manon’s love and regrets;  as she uttered “Et c’est là l’histoire de Manon Lescaut!” you could have heard a pin drop – the audience was utterly spell-bound.

Vittorio Grigolo’s Covent Garden stage debut was pretty sensational.  The possessor of a number of estimable qualities, he captivated the audience with his film-star good looks, his youthful exuberance and rather stentorian and attractive tenor (what a Raoul in Les Huguenots he would make).  For once we had a tenor not drowned out by Netrebko, in fact he occasionally had the edge on his Russian belle.  The promise is pretty considerable and I see no reason why he cannot attain a top-flight career, possibly even rivalling Jonas Kaufmann, providing he learns that subtlety in execution is as valuable to dramatic expression as is house-filling high notes.  If he does not learn to manage his enthusiastic outpourings, he may well end up going the same way as another illustrious partner of Netrebko’s.  The audience responded ecstatically enough, as well they should.  His “Ah! Fuyez, douce image” was as good a rendition as you could wish to hear today.  It was clearly, against all predicted odds, his night.  Hopefully we will see a lot more of him in the future at Covent Garden.

Excellent support was generally provided throughout by Christopher Mortagne as the hysterically bitter Guillot de Morfontaine (a few reservations about the condition of the voice aside), Christof Fischesser as an austere Le Comte des Grieux, and the wonderful Lescaut of Canadian baritone Russell Braun.  The three ladies (Poussette, Javotte and Rosette) were delivered with panache by Simona Mihai, Louise Innes and Kai Rüütel, but less expert support was offered by the De Brétigny of William Shimmel, with intonation problems spoiling his contribution, especially in Act II.

Laurent Pelly’s production left me somewhat indifferent as to my overall feelings about it.  It doesn’t offend and it doesn’t offer any real insights into the opera, instead it seems to operate in a rather clunky fashion which emphasises what isn’t there in the staging, rather than what is.  I’m not averse per se, to a bit of space on the stage, but Pelly’s production seemed curiously inconspicuous.  It is also dominated by a cheap MDF-effect, making it look as if someone knocked it all up within 60 minutes on one of those dreadful house make-over/under television shows.  The Cours-la-Reine scene appeared to be an MGM musical showcase, set alongside the Seine, but with a backdrop which seemed to feature the London Eye and a gigantic orange ball.   Quite what the orange ball had to do with things I couldn’t possibly say, but it looked utterly ridiculous.  Act I was set in the courtyard of the Inn at Amiens, with the set constructed out of cheap MDF-effect yellowish wood.  The city horizon had been reduced to scaled down houses, giving the overall impression that you were sat within some sort of sandcastle!  No doubt the audiences as the Metropolitan Opera and La Scala, who will be receiving Pelly’s production in due course, will offer their own opinions about this, and I somehow suspect it will be less than enthusiastic.

The Royal Opera House chorus were in sensational form throughout the evening, but one cannot be quite so enthusiastic about the orchestra under the direction of Antonio Pappano.  There were no obvious bloopers of course, but there was occasionally the feeling that the general tempo was slightly lagging, with none of the individual touches which would otherwise make such a score fizz with excitement.  Perhaps Massenet and French opera isn’t really for Pappano?  Even so it was a good performance, if an entirely unremarkable one.  With Massenet interpreters of the calibre of Renee Fleming and Annick Massis available, we can all look forward to future revivals of this opera, with or without the orange ball.

Antony Lias
Opera Britannia

Photographs (c) by Bill Cooper