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The Wall Street Journal, |
HEIDI WALESON |
Massenet: Manon, Chicago, 27 September 2008
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French lessons in life
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A mesmerizing 'Manon'
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French opera doesn't get much respect -- the
Italian and German varieties tend to be taken more seriously -- but if it
were always produced like Massenet's "Manon" was at Lyric Opera of Chicago
this month, that would change. As directed by David McVicar, starring
Natalie Dessay and conducted by Emmanuel Villaume, this "Manon" was more
than a few pretty tunes; it was a wrenching descent into the abyss.
"Manon" (1884) is usually an opportunity for producers to do Fragonard-style
opulence, with pretty dresses and frou-frou, but Mr. McVicar's production
suggested the story's darker side from the beginning. Designer Tanya
McCallin's set was a curved line of bleachers, occupied on and off by
gawking, gesticulating, heckling observers. The muted color palette -- gray,
off-white, and dark green -- of her 18th-century costumes and furniture, as
well as the deliberately spotty lighting (originally by Paule Constable;
done for Chicago by Kevin Sleep), made everything look a little dirty.
Mr. McVicar directed all the choristers to be individuals during the crowd
scenes, which always seemed on the verge of turning into riots, with people
rushing, grasping, staring, and performing illicit acts. And the aristocrats
were just as vicious as the rabble.
It's a rapacious and dangerous world, but Manon -- the convent-bound
16-year-old who runs off with the handsome young Chevalier Des Grieux,
abandons him for a richer protector, and then changes her mind again --
thinks she will not only survive but thrive, and have both money and love.
Unfortunately, as she discovers too late, youth and beauty will get you only
so far. Natalie Dessay, a mesmerizing Manon, was absolutely convincing, even
sympathetic, as a dreamy teenager who suddenly discovers both romance and
her own power, her singing shifting easily from multihued lyricism to
coloratura exuberance. Ms. Dessay always does whatever the character
requires. Singing "Adieu, notre petit table," she curled up on the table in
the garret she shared with Des Grieux, heartbroken; later, her attempt to
pry her ex-lover away from the church, in which he has taken religious
orders, felt dangerous and real. And forget about glamour: In Act I, she was
a kid, gawky and ill-dressed; in Act V, a dying prisoner bound for exile,
she was filthy, with cropped hair and a battered face, and got dragged
unceremoniously across the stage like a broken doll.
Tenor Jonas Kaufmann, singing the role of Des Grieux for the first time,
matched Ms. Dessay in intensity. He took a lot of vocal risks, and his
pianissimos were not especially pretty, but his full-throated utterances
were exciting, and one could feel his anguish and the volcanic nature of his
feelings for Manon. Baritone Christopher Feigum effectively completed
the triangle as Manon's dissolute cousin Lescaut, a pander who helps to push
the impressionable Manon into this degraded society. Mr. Villaume's
conducting was flowing and idiomatic: Ms. Dessay threw herself at his feet
during the curtain call, and for good reason. |
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