Some thoughts on the ROH Manon Lescaut

            It's rare for me to blog about an opera performance. I am more likely to discuss my thoughts over a pint, but so much has been said about this production, often trying to fit comments into 140 characters, that I wanted to add my own personal response. There has been a lot of controversy over this production: boos on the first night; critics of the production; critics of the booers. There are parts of this production I like and I think work really well. But there are also things I find frustrating, often little things that could be easily fixed.

            This production was much anticipated since the last production at Covent Garden was just over 30 years ago. Ticket prices were at a premium, with prices across all sections being marked up. With this in mind, I have some sympathy with those who wanted a traditional style and to see their ticket price being invested in period dress and pretty, lavish scenery. Not that this is an excuse for booing: a childish, pathetic and rather pointless exercise in my opinion. I very much doubt that a production team will spend months, sometimes years, of planning, living the music, revising and fighting for budgets solely to "disrespect" the composer or piss off the audience. At the same time, I have no doubt that good ideas can get lost in the translation to the stage, and that although there is often a good reason why such a decision was made, that may not always be transparent to the audience (lack of time and money being the obvious ones).

            Jonathan Kent updates this opera to the present: contemporary sets, contemporary clothes, contemporary manners and behaviour. Nothing wrong with that, and for Manon Lescaut, it works very well. I wonder though if this doesn't also mean we approach the production more critically: not because it is "controversial", but because this is a world we know. Maybe we are more willing to overlook generalised acting or unmotivated movement when we are distracted by the delights of a "traditional" production, or we are more aware that we are watching "theatre" and not "real life", so we more readily accept some aspects as theatrical conventions.

 Act One

            The orchestral introduction to act one is lively and restless. The stage at the ROH is empty, apart from Des Grieux sitting on a staircase outside a hotel. What is this music describing? Puccini sets his first act outside an inn, a meeting point where the coach drops off passengers: a hive of activity. There's no activity in Kent's production. Puccini has Des Grieux enter about 5 minutes into the act; Kent has him already onstage, a man alone reading his book. The choice of book tells us about Des Grieux: "The Outsider". This Des Grieux is an outsider. Who exactly is he? And why is he sitting on a staircase outside a hotel? If he were sitting alone outside an inn with a book and a glass of beer, that would be a little more understandable. He is not dressed like the other students, and his costume makes him look smarter, richer, older than them: a mature student, perhaps. What is he doing there, and who, if anyone, is he waiting for? The answer remains a mystery, so Des Grieux is presented to us as "an enigma". I've seen criticism that Kaufmann looks bored and detached in this part. Perhaps this is a deliberate move to maintain the mystery. Perhaps he is unsure himself who Des Grieux is. Or perhaps he really is simply bored!

            One blogger has suggested that this is a hotel at an airport. When the chorus enter, they do look like they might be dressed for an 18-30 holiday. Edmondo sings his air, mocking a diary entry which is exactly how it is described in the score "half in earnest, half in jest". Des Grieux's ditty "Tra voi belle" is supported by sparse, pizzicato accompaniment which might suggest a lightness of tone and delicacy is needed. This is not how Jonas sings it, and he is often criticised for lacking "lightness" (and 'a smile in the voice'). For me, I think it's a valid criticism to say that some lightness and jokiness is required here to show how Des Grieux develops during the opera, yet this delicacy is not really in Jonas's dark-coloured voice. Instead, he shows the mocking nature of the song by other means: by a gentle slide between notes, by a breathy patronising tone on "vaga e vezzosa", and by singing several phrases in one breath (one should always listen to Jonas's phrasing). It's as though he makes it ironic by singing it as grandly as he can.

            The car arrives bringing Geronte, and presumably he picked up Lescaut and Manon hitch-hiking on the way. Lescaut sports a dog tag and bag which hints at the military side of his character. I love how Manon is hanging out of the window taking in the bright lights (and how she closes the door at exactly the right point of the music with a polite little curtsey.) "Guests from Arras" sing the chorus: how do they know? This isn't a public coach but a private car. Perhaps Geronte could have been expected with a few paparazzi waiting outside the hotel. That would also explain why so many people were waiting there and would link with the theme of voyeurism and celebrity which runs through this production.

            The first meeting between Manon and Des Grieux brings shades of Romeo and Juliet's balcony. Notice how Opolais turns away when she speaks of going to a convent. Is it sadness or shame? Who is sent to a convent these days? Maybe she turns away because she is lying? "Donna non vidi mai" could again benefit from more lightness: it starts quietly in the score, as though Des Grieux is awestruck or speechless, and ranges up and down in volume as Des Grieux struggles to control his feelings. I'd like Jonas to start more quietly but there's no lack of volume when it's needed and how delicately he dwells on mi "Manon Lescaut mi chiamo" as though musing on the name and its owner. And I would still have liked to have seen him beaming on that lamp post for the second "Manon Lescaut mi chiamo", although the lamp post is decidedly wobbly. There are few smiles on his face when he sings the aria: the smiles are there though in the thoughts before he sings.

            The scene between Geronte and Lescaut is set mostly on the balcony at the top of the hotel. This is the first of several scenes at this level and seems to have caused sightline problems in the house. The whole of act four is at a similar height. Standing in the stalls circle (not sold as restricted view), I had to duck to see the action. On the opening night, I was in the side balcony and the majority of the casino was obscured. This led to muted applause as most people on the side, even in the front row, could not see the end of act one. There will be those who say: "it's a restricted view seat, what do you expect? And it was cheap." To which I'd say "cheap" is relative depending on your individual circumstances, and all the ticket prices were increased for this production (with the lowest ticket prices facing the largest percentage increase). It also seems strange for a director/designer to deliberately set action where it will not be seen by sections of their paying audience: there is no need for this conversation to last for as long as it does on that balcony. There is no need for the last act to be played on a high level. Notice how Lescaut, when he enters the casino, leans on the staircase outside the building: this is a flexible space, so there is no need for the final scene of act one to take place behind a card table, when the actors could be moved in front of the table and be seen by more people in the audience. What also surprised me about this is that the team at the ROH did not pick up on this. I would expect a technical manager there to have said: "Stalls Circle B, C and D won't see this.... Balcony seats 60+ won't see that" or something similar. Poor sightlines in this production were frustrating, even more so because the stage could often have accommodated movement and better positioning quite easily.

            Other thoughts for act one: I like how Edmondo comes out of the casino to sing to a girl. It gives him a reason to be there to overhear conversations, and it also foreshadows a similar situation to act three of La Boheme: the ardent Des Grieux and Manon versus the quarelling Edmondo and his girlfriend/date. It seems unlikely that a casino would give over a card table to an unknown croupier but Lescaut is left running a table. Where does Des Grieux return from? We last see him entering the hotel, but then he reappears through a random door. I like how Manon creeps out of the window, already hinting at an independent and uncontrollable streak and how seductively does Pappano lead the orchestra through that section, slowing down just before turning into the "Donna non vidi mai" repeat. Then comes the beautifully sad flute solo at "la queta casetta" (and how softly Kaufmann leads into it by his delicately colouring the word "melanconico"), although the blocking (getting up to that balcony again) makes the next section and Des Grieux's declaration of love a little awkward. This does mean, though, that Manon and Des Grieux can run excitedly down the stairs to that wonderful theme when they elope which always makes me smile (and having Des Grieux put his coat around Manon is a lovely touch). 

 Act Two

            Act two is definitely pink. The curtain opens with the set still revolving, like a theatrical reveal, or peering around the curtain. It sets us, the audience, up as voyeurs more immediately than if the set were already there and static. Manon looks every inch an artificial Barbie doll, with elements, perhaps, of a little girl. This is all fully supported by the text and is a perfectly valid approach. The pink and gilded cage reminded me, perhaps inevitably, of:

The frosted glass walls expand on the theme of voyeurism, Geronte's shadow falling behind them like Norman Bates looming behind the shower curtain. Lescaut adds the beauty spots to Manon's face himself, prettying up his sister so she can better satisfy her lover. When "In quelle trine morbide" comes, sung leant against the walls as if to emphasise the entrapment, it is about a return to a freer lifestyle too.

            The singers come, and I like how Geronte watches the lesbian action. Manon, however, is not fully into it and looks, at times, uncomfortable. This is where I think the charges of misogyny come into it. There are times in this act when Manon seems to use her sexuality to control the men around her, to receive the material wealth and riches she desires, and seems to be willing to sell her body and her love to obtain them. Yet there are times where Opolais also makes it clear through her facial expressions that Manon is not at all happy about this: that at times Manon does feel abused and exploited. It is Manon who finishes the madrigal by pushing the singer away. "Songs, dances, music... these are all lovely things," sings Manon: this almost falls into the 'she loves being abused' category. "But I am bored," she adds: she puts up with the abuse, no longer repelled by it, but bored. Is this misogynistic? I don't know, but I do find it uncomfortable, and it's a discomfort highlighted by the production more than Puccini (it is Kent's production that has the madrigal singer stroke and kiss Manon). Perhaps this production reveals the true cost of Manon's life with Geronte far more than a traditional production, which would leave much more to the imagination, to be ignored or thought about at will. Kent's direction forces us to consider the abuse head on.

            Lescaut makes off to find Des Grieux and throws up an interesting conundrum as this production already has Des Grieux onstage at this point in a rather smart idea. Lescaut will later return to tell the couple of Manon's forthcoming arrest, but this makes more sense if he has brought Des Grieux there himself and stays in the area to keep an eye on things. Yes, it's possible that Lescaut would hear on the police grapevine what was going on, but he is, in theory, still looking for Des Grieux at that point so should perhaps react slightly differently when he discovers Des Grieux is there. More interesting is the acting dilemma that Kaufmann faces: to react according to the character (which would be more honest), or to react according to the "surprise". (Digression: I am reminded here of listening to the actor Edward Petherbridge who talked about appearing in a Jeffrey Archer play "The Accused" in which Archer played the title role. It was a courtroom drama and at the end of the play, the audience voted as to whether the character was guilty or not, the twist being that the play had two written endings and the audience was always revealed to have made the wrong decision. Petherbridge, a celebrated classical actor, mused in a one man show how he would find it impossible to play a character who did not know until the end of the play whether or not he had actually committed the crime: how could you play that part with honesty?)

            The minuet presented as some sort of lap dance is another great idea, and again works very well with the text. The movement is delicate and provocative and does, in its own way, fit with the music. Manon is watched very closely by the group of dirty old men (who, dressed alike, hint at parody). There are women's voices in the chorus here, perhaps to represent youths, but no women can be seen on stage. It's arguable that the  sopranos could be portrayed as women, not young men, especially in a traditional production which chooses to show Manon at some kind of "finishing school", admired and criticised by both sexes. However, although Manon does throw herself into the act, there are again moments of her discomfort. "L'ora o Tirsi" has her playing with Geronte. Perhaps there was room here for something even kinkier: a little light spanking, for example, but this may have been thrown at at the rehearsal stage (and God knows what the audience would have made of that, even though it could fit rhythmically with the music.) I also would like to have seen Manon walk in her heels over those bald headed men, adding an extra sexual frisson.

            I overheard at the interval people complaining that the love duet was too graphic and "vulgar" for which you should probably blame Puccini: the blocking is clearly a response to the score, including an orgasm and post-coital cigarette moment. What is vulgar about sex anyway? I watched the scene from the Met video with Scotto and Domingo. Sure enough, they also end up rolling around on a bed. If the ROH staging appears "vulgar", then a lot of the credit for that must go to the interaction of the two leads. At the start of the duet, I feel Opolais is a little lacking in variety as the new thoughts come tumbling out of her in quick succession: 'you no longer love me... you used to love me so much... oh, those kisses.... I'm waiting for your revenge... ah, don't look at me like that...' though Kaufmann starts to come into his own here, never shouting, but more of a controlled, firm anger (some would probably say too controlled). Even better is his bitter aria which follows. Again, it is controlled, heavy, as though sung through gritted teeth rather than explosively heart on sleeve. And this scene ends with Manon's plea: "un'altra volta... Forgive me, one more time... " where I think she is at her most sincere. It's a phrase carried over into the intermezzo and Des Grieux's "Vedi, vedi, son io che piango" in the last act, so he clearly remembers the phrase too.

            The act concludes with a protracted escape scene, and Kent throws as much variety as he can into it. After a rather clumsy cross from Lescaut to downstage right at the beginning of the scene, Kaufmann turns into action man, leaping onto bedding and jumping through windows, turning chairs over as he goes. Both opening acts end with a similar musical BAM - BAM phrase and Kent uses a tableau and quick blackout to match.

 Intermezzo

            Puccini's score above the intermezzo quotes a section from the original novel which is projected onto the curtains. I can see why this was done, but am not sure it is easily readable and perhaps the surtitle screen would have been clearer to read. In so clearly connecting the music with the character of Des Grieux, I wonder if there was a way that this could be partly staged instead, Kaufmann acting the part of the desperate man. I was imagining something like a spotlight and a small amount of movement.  It may not have worked, and perhaps it would have distracted too much from the wonderful playing. Again, I'm tempted to use the word "controlled" here. It's not that the playing lacked passion, but that everything was made to count. I'm thinking in particular of Pappano's crescendo up to that bass drum and timpani roll, just before the sky seems to clear again at the end of the piece.

 Act Three

            Act three seems to be the one that has caused most bafflement. The setting in the score asks for a prison with a barred window, a gas lamp, a port and a ship. Manon needs to be broken out of the prison before she gets on the ship: the two threats to Manon's liberty are clear and present on the stage, as is Des Grieux's task of stopping her. The ROH production shows no ship, no prison and no lamp, which seemed to cause a lot of confusion when the lighting rig descended. In the original dawn breaks, and the lamplighter, here beautifully sung with long phrases and diminuendi by Luis Gomes, comes round to switch off the gas and disturb Manon and Des Grieux.

            What we have instead is unclear. Some rooms upstage right (invisible to those on the side) are reminiscent of the prostitutes' shop windows in Amsterdam printed in the programme. The spiral staircase reappears from act one, and when Manon walks down it to the tune of "Donna non vidi mai", memories of the first meeting are instantly recalled as the music and the stage movement are the same. Tiered seating leads onto a catwalk of gaming tables with a large poster at one end and gambling machines scattered around.

            Some have said that this act is staged as some kind of reality game show, or Jeremy Kyle/Jerry Springer exposure show. Others have questioned whether prostitutes are still deported to America. I'll admit to not really seeing the game show similarity. The chorus are not escorted into the TV studio, and the lighting does not suggest the bright lights of a studio. Cameras are used to film the action, and there's no doubt that Des Grieux's last minute plea would make excellent television: perhaps what the cameras were filming could have been projected. This would have added to the theme of voyeurism: not only do we see the studio, but we also see in close up what the cameras want us to see. A trip to America seems more like a luxury prize rather than a punishment. But of course, people are deported to America, smuggled or trafficked into sex, crime and poverty, so on my first viewing I felt that this is what I was watching. In some kind of abandoned warehouse/theatre, a secret auction takes place, women being paraded around, humiliated and sold before being sent through a poster of promised opportunity, although it turns out to be nothing more than a trap (which brought Pinocchio to my mind: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_wfqqnhbLU  ) Jihoon Kim plays the TV announcer just as he played the arresting officer at the end of act two: why would a security man also be a game show presenter? No, I think something darker is happening here.

            Lescaut bribes a guard to help Manon break out of prison. She meets Des Grieux and they walk around the space freely. The guard may be a security man, but he shows no clear means of restraining Manon: she is not bound or patrolled. Why do they not simply run away during their scene together? Interrupted by the lamplighter, Des Grieux tells Manon to be quiet as they need to hide and be inconspicuous: making out in front of the proscenium is not being inconspicuous! Manon walks back  to the "prison", but again, she is not under any kind of supervision. 'Our plan has failed' sings Lescaut. What plan, exactly? I feel that this act is a confusing muddle, and having watched this with three different people with varied knowledge of the story, not one has been able to explain what happens in this act.

            I do, though, have a thought about those prison cells. They don't, to me, look like dressing rooms as you would find in a TV studio. They could, perhaps, be containers of some kind, but they are too reminiscent of the brothel windows. The women walk around in them, anxious, stressed. I'd like to put the theory that those boxes are indeed windows, and what is depicted is various arrests. In other words, the women are walking around those boxes in an earlier time, before walking down the stairs into the present. There's a line in Alan Bennett's play A Question of Attribution in which Anthony Blunt is giving a lecture and describes how a single painting can depict several events in a charcter's life: "It is a world in which time means nothing, the present overlaps the future, and did the saint but turn his head he would see his own martyrdom through the window. Judas takes the pieces of silver in the Temple at the same moment as in the next field he hangs himself. Christ begs God in the garden to free him from a fate that is already happening higher up the hill."

            So in answer to the question, "where is the prison?", I'd say "it's not there", and what is depicted on stage, are two time frames. That is my interpretation after seeing the production several times. I do not believe that the director and designer deliberately intended to make this act confusing. I think they will have had an idea and tried to translate that to the stage. However, I feel that something has been lost in that transition, and what is left is confusing and unhelpful.

 Act Four

            The last act does not take place on Puccini's great plain, but on a broken freeway. This act is set entirely at a high level causing sightline problems in parts of the house, and again, there is no need for such height to be used although it does help to fill the stage. Other commentators have said that seeing the performers at that height had them fearing for their safety and distracted from the performance (I am confident that thorough safety checks will have been undertaken by the ROH and, possibly, the local H & S authority).  I have no objection to the freeway itself, but it makes little sense to have the characters walking along a road which they can clearly see is broken. Where are they going? Why are they walking along it? Why are they not walking underneath where it is cooler? It may be a literal representation of a road to nowhere, but the production has not previously heavily relied on metaphor.

            By this point, both Opolais and Kaufmann are in excellent voice, and Pappano truly delivers a spine-tingling moment for me with the colourful crescendo just before Manon sings "Sei tu che piangi?" The wind instruments in particular flick and flutter through these bars as Manon seems to revive herself. Listening to recordings, some conductors either play it too fast or without depth and colour: Pappano plays it as I had always heard it in my head. It is one of those parts in this act that tears me up, alongside Des Grieux's cries to God for help just before Manon sends him away.

            Manon sends him away: he doesn't leave of his own volition, which is why it makes little sense to me to keep Des Grieux onstage through her aria. Not only is his walking around distracting, I don't believe it is in keeping with his character as someone who has followed Manon around the world. I understand how he may need time to himself to reflect and collect his thoughts, but he does not choose to leave: the woman he loves has asked him to find help. And he doesn't. He returns and says he looked everywhere. But he didn't. He lies to her, and I don't believe that Des Grieux would lie to Manon. His words in act two are painfully honest. Manon lies in act four so as not to cause him pain, but he remains hopeful, desperate and true.

            The act ends just as it had begun, and I was reminded of this (definitely not safe for work as it contains sex and nudity) film of the Liebestod from Tristan:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEUnwjH1fek The programme notes how one setting of the Manon Lescaut has a Geronte character find Des Grieux and Manon in the desert, and tries to unite them after the wrong he had done them. Puccini's opera does not explain how they got into the desert or why they are there, and this production's sets and costumes do not make it clear that a significant amount of time has passed between acts three and four (in fact, Kaufmann's costume remains essentially the same throughout). Had the final set not been at such a height, this production could have used the musical echo to create a similar echo in the staging by having Geronte drive past the lovers in his car, slowing down perhaps on those final chords to stare at them before driving off.

            This production has provoked a lot of thought and online discussion with the ROH website gaining an extremely large number of comments: http://www.roh.org.uk/news/your-reaction-manon-lescaut  . On the whole, I think the production works although I'm not sure if it would be easily and readily revived. Act three remains messy and several viewings do not help to clarify it. Act four, with a stunning, shadowy, cinematic lighting design, is better and is musically wonderful. The first half is far more successful as a production. For me, Opolais is the star: although hard to point to specific examples, she uses a range of vocal dynamics rather than colours to give character to her singing and delivers an extremely subtle acting performance.  The colours come more from Kaufmann and, especially from the second act, his singing is thrilling and has become more carefree as the run progresses. Musically, it is everything that was expected, but the production has evidently led to massive disappointment and anger for some people.

            I'll leave you with Crisantemi, an early work by Puccini which he plundered for themes for his opera.