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New Statesman, 23 June, 2014 |
by Alexandra Coghlan |
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Puccini: Manon Lescaut, Royal Opera House London, June 17, 2014 |
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Uneasy futility at the opera: Manon Lescaut [and In the Penal Colony]
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Alexandra Coghlan reviews Jonathan Kent’s new production of Manon Lescaut at
the Royal Opera House [and Shadwell Opera’s In The Penal Colony at the Arts
Theatre].
Opera audiences are a fickle bunch. They embrace Puccini’s
Mimì as a beloved heroine, yet have a much more ambivalent relationship with
the composer’s other flawed heroine Manon – younger and far more vulnerable
to the schemings of others than Mimì. That Jonathan Kent’s new production of
Manon Lescaut at the Royal Opera House should be the company’s first for 30
years says a lot about the work’s uneasy place in the repertoire; that it
should be so determinedly, aggressively grim says rather more about why.
Kent’s Manon emerges from a people-carrier into a grimily kitsch
contemporary apartment block, complete with gambling club and hordes of
neon-clad, disaffected youth. Recaptured by Geronte, she finds herself in a
soft-porn, MTV dolls’ house, complete with hot-pink accents and wipe-clean
furniture. A row of bald old men watch as she preens and gyrates for their
entertainment.
Is it shocking? As a contemporary parable about the
unscrupulous exploitation of the sex industry, perhaps, but as an opera
production? Not so much.
The production, designed by Paul Brown, is
rather too self-conscious about its visual and dramatic provocations. They
feel non-committal, experimental, their excesses safely anchored by the
heart-on-sleeve romanticism of Antonio Pappano’s conducting and very prim
surtitle translations. The result feels like a rather uneasy negotiation
between what Royal Opera House audiences actually like and what the director
thinks they ought to like – a sideways glance toward European theatre,
without ever meeting its uncompromising gaze.
But the music is a
different story. Here everything is 19th-century romance and passion. There
are no gimmicks powerful enough to distract from Pappano’s orchestra –
emotionally urgent but never indulgent, powering though this fine score with
all the conviction that the drama lacked.
In two of this season’s
most exciting role debuts, both soprano Kristine Opolais and tenor Jonas
Kaufmann appear for the first time as star-thwarted lovers Manon and Des
Grieux. Kaufmann’s baritonal colour lends a maturity to this impulsive
character, supplementing some of the depth that Puccini forgets to write for
him in the careful vocal shading. It’s beautiful, exceptional singing, but
dramatically perhaps a little too striking. We feel so confident in the
young lover that we lose the doubts that are essential to the unfolding
tension. Opolais warms from an understated opening innocence to an
astonishing climax in Act IV, and I only wish that Brown’s David
Lynch-inspired final set hadn’t distracted so strongly from the intimate
intensity of this final encounter. Christopher Maltman rounds out the
principals with vocal swagger as man-on-the-make Lescaut.
Though
musically exceptional, I fear this might just be the production to condemn
Manon to another 30 years in storage, lacking as it does the same courage of
conviction we find in Puccini’s complicated, misguided heroine.
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