Met Opera: Manon

On Thursday evening, the Met Opera staged a performance of Manon, a work considered - along with Faust and Carmen - to be at the heart of the French operatic repertory.  It received such acclaim after its premiere that even when the illustrious Puccini composed his own Manon Lescaut less than ten years later, it never succeeded in overtaking the popularity of the earlier work.

Since last having seen Manon years ago, I'd gained a much greater respect for its creator Jules Massenet than I had once held.  Although highly regarded during his lifetime, his works largely fell into oblivion after his death.  Of his more than thirty operas, only Manon and Werther managed to retain a place in the standard repertoire.  The composer himself, perhaps a victim of his own success, had never been held in particular esteem by the critics and was eventually relegated to little more than a footnote in the history of opera.  Even after his rediscovery in the mid-twentieth century, the critical analysis devoted to him remained condescending.  A good example would be the opinion expressed in The New Grove Dictionary of Opera:

"It would be absurd to claim that he [Massenet] was anything more than a second-rate composer; he nevertheless deserves to be seen, like Richard Strauss, at least as a first-class second-rate one."

Some of this lack of appreciation may have been due to the bias shown French music in general, especially when held in comparison to the accomplishments of Italian composers.  (Puccini himself gave voice to this prejudice when arguing for his own project: "Massenet feels it [the story of Manon] as a Frenchman, with powder and minuets. I shall feel it as an Italian, with a desperate passion.")  Another factor may have been that Massenet was admittedly inconsistent; not all his works, especially not those written in the years immediately preceding his death, achieved the same high standard as that of his most famous operas.  Still, Massenet's work at its best was not only extremely entertaining but highly inventive and impressively constructed.  Manon, Werther and Thaïs are all exciting works to hear.

The plot of Manon, as set forth in the libretto by Henri Meilhac and Philippe Gille, was the type of romantic melodrama that has always been a prime source of operatic inspiration.  The story of an innocent young girl on her way to the convent who meets her true love only to be seduced by a rich older man was one that was sure to appeal to the fatuous Parisian audiences of the day.  And at the end, of course, came the uplifting moral lesson.  Once poor Manon had seen the error of her ways, there was nothing left for her to do but to die in the arms of the hapless Des Grieux while acknowledging that the happiness he had promised would never be hers.  Her fatalism as she pronounces the final words, "Et c'est là l'histoire de Manon Lescaut," sums it all up nicely.  How apt that the story's original author, Abbé Prévost, should have been a clergyman.

Another reason I had wanted to attend this performance was to hear Diana Damrau sing again.  I had seen her at the Met last season in La sonnambula and had thought her superb on that occasion.  Here she was joined by Vittorio Grigolo, whose credits oddly enough also include an appearance on Dancing with the Stars, as her des Grieux.  The two shared a definite chemistry that caught fire in third act when Manon confronted Des Grieux at Saint-Sulpice.  Their meeting followed a bravura performance by Grigolo of the aria Ah ! Fuyez, douce image.  As Manon finally convinced Des Grieux to break his vows and return to her, the effect on the audience was electric.

This performance of Manon was conducted by Emmanuel Villaume who unfortunately failed to bring forth all that the music offered.  The 2012 production, a joint effort with several other opera houses including Convent Garden and La Scala, was designed by Laurent Pelly and was a great disappointment.  It was a drab and lifeless affair that appeared to have taken its inspiration from commonplace industrial designs.  There was no beauty or magic to it at all.