Manon Lescaut - Sydney Opera House - 16 July 2009

A grand and passionate Manon Lescaut by Sarah Noble

Puccini: Manon Lescaut Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 16 July 2009

Puccini was not the first composer, nor even the second, to turn the Abbé Prevost's L'histoire du chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut into an opera. Both Auber and Massenet had already tackled the subject. None of the three adhered too rigidly to the original, which was probably a smart move given the style of its narrative: a sentimental, intermittently moralistic flashback told entirely by the miserable Des Grieux, in which Manon is barely allowed to speak, let alone develop a personality of her own beyond her spectacular selfishness and fatal beauty. Puccini's Manon isn't any more admirable than her literary counterpart, but at least she's three-dimensional. The role is a fearsome prospect for a soprano, requiring serious vocal stamina and an actress who can play the complicated Manon with enough charisma to remind us that she does indeed have a heart. Cheryl Barker rises powerfully to the challenge, charting Manon's extraordinary journey with a slow burning intensity. The role is heavyish for her forceful but essentially lyric instrument, but Barker's sterling technique, thrilling dynamic range and bright, burnished timbre make any serious difficulty hard to detect. Barker's astute characterisation acknowledges Manon's faults alongside her charms, resisting the urge to make the character more heroic than she is. As vital as Puccini heroines have been to Barker's career, this season marks her début as his Manon. While there's still a tantalising hint of depths still to be plumbed, this is nevertheless already an intelligent and fantastically sung creation. As her lover Des Grieux, Mexican tenor Jorge Lopez-Yañez isn't so subtly shaded, but he brings an ardent presence to the stage just the same, along with a voice of idiomatic charm, if slightly raspy at the very top. He's especially engaging in the first act, as a briefly carefree student who falls all too quickly for the woman destined to ruin him. His "Donna non vidi mai" is delivered with tremulous joy, and he moves convincingly through the character's subsequent agonies. The chemistry between the lovers doesn't sizzle but they're still a reasonably well matched pair. Teddy Tahu Rhodes seems a slightly curious choice for Lescaut, Manon's manipulative brother. There's no questioning his charismatic stage presence, and his singing is strong throughout; but Puccini is hardly Rhodes's home repertoire, and the character isn't an ideal temperamental fit either. Rhodes' star power carries him through, but it's hard not to feel he could be more profitably employed elsewhere. More seriously miscast is Richard Alexander as Geronte di Ravoir, the rich and elderly protector to whom Manon succumbs. Alexander sings beautifully, with a firm, mellifluous baritone; but that very voice, and his ridiculous buffo make-up and behaviour, only serve to underline his youth, so that a character who should be genuinely repellent and threatening seems like a commedia dell'arte fool.

Among the supporting cast, tenor Stephen Smith is most impressive, as a lithe and energetic Edmondo. Dominica Matthews's rich contralto is a luxury in the Madrigal Singer's brief appearance, as is tenor Andrew Brunsdon's turn as the Lamplighter. Graeme Macfarlane, master of the effete character role, is ideal in his cameo as Manon's fussy Dancing Master. The chorus is in fine form, with the women especially revelling in the campy possibilities of their roles as French prostitutes. Conductor Alexander Polianichko leads a sensuous reading of Puccini's score, gaining in splendour as the evening progresses. The gorgeous Intermezzo between Acts Three and Four is vividly realised, but was rather spoilt on opening night by the bangs and crashes emanating from behind the curtain as the set was changed. Director Gale Edwards' production is just the right kind of traditional, an intelligent, unfussy piece of storytelling, with occasional flourishes of telling unconventionality. Peter J. Davison's sets move from sumptuous realism to slightly more abstract design, with the desert of the final act represented by what is essentially a stripped version of the first act's village scene: a telling reminder of the terrible changes time has wrought since that first meeting. Roger Kirk's extravagant costumes are as striking in their depiction of shabby decay as in the powdered resplendence of Act Two, and Nigel Levings' lighting is skilfully evocative, especially the half darkness of the desert scene. Puccini's Manon Lescaut isn't flawless, but it was his first major success, and with good reason. Just as Des Grieux, entranced by her beauty, ecstatically forgives Manon's rather serious failings, so the fleeting faults of Puccini's opera are easily overwhelmed by its vitality, its varied palette and the sublime dignity of its conclusion. Manon might not be little or lovable like some of the composer's later heroines, but she's grand, passionate, beautiful and complex, and the fascination she exercises - as Puccini well knew - is timeless.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica