Met Opera: Manon Lescaut

On Saturday afternoon I went to the Met to hear Puccini's third opera, and his first great popular success, Manon Lescaut.  I'd never before heard any of the composer's first three operas but had become interested after having read this past summer a sympathetic biography written by Mary Jane Phillips-Matz, a former contributor to Opera News.

The libretto is officially credited to Giuseppe Giacosa and poet Luigi Illica but many more were involved before it was finished.  At one point or another, even the composer Ruggero Leoncavallo and the publisher Giulio Ricordi took part.  So confused was the authorship, in fact, that the first edition of the score did not list any librettist at all  Puccini's inability to get along with his librettists and his constant demand for revisions were legendary and continued throughout his career.  He steadfastly refused to ever work again with Fernando Fontana, the librettist for his first two operas, even though it was he who had given Puccini the original idea for Tosca.  In the end, it was Giacosa and Illica who remained in an uneasy partnership with Puccini and collaborated with him on his next three operas, arguably his most famous.  This may have had as much to do with the pair's ability to accommodate Puccini's indecisive nature as with their undeniable talent.

I had known that Puccini had been as deeply influenced by Wagner's music as that of Verdi but had never heard the German's presence so clearly in his later operas as in this.  It was especially apparent in the intermezzo before the beginning of Act III.  Still, even in this early work, Puccini's distinctive style was already in place.  Manon's death at the end of the final act foreshadows, both dramatically and musically, that of Mimi at the conclusion of his next opera La bohème.

Puccini's music was well served at Saturday's performance by an excellent cast and conductor.  Kristine Opolais as Manon and Roberto Alagna as Des Grieux both gave strong performances.  As usual, Fabio Luisi, whose understated conducting never seems to get the respect it deserves, was fully in control on the podium.

This was a new production by Richard Eyre who is becoming something of a fixture at the Met.  His work falls between a traditional opulence reminiscent of Franco Zeffirelli's productions and the more notably contemporary, and sometimes outrageous, outings in which the Met has indulged in recent years in the name of relevance.  The sets were marvelous and I was particularly impressed by Eyre's rendering of the ship in Act III.  The only problematical elements were the towering staircases in Acts I and II.  Along with the rest of the audience, I kept waiting for a cast member to trip and tumble headlong down to the stage.

Considering that Manon Lescaut cannot be considered a truly major opera and that there were no big names on hand, this was still an thoroughly enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon in New York City.  One can only imagine the excitement that must have electrified the house when the opera premiered at the Met in 1907.  Puccini himself was present in the audience on that occasion while Enrico Caruso stood onstage to sing the role of Des Grieux.