Opéra National de Paris 2024-25 Review: Manon

By Andréas Rey
(Photo: ©-Sebastien-Mathe)

After the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées’s “Werther,” it is now the turn of the Opéra National de Paris to stage a Massenet opera in Paris this year. It is reviving its production of “Manon,” directed by Vincent Huguet. Massenet wrote a grand French opera with its obligatory ballet in the second act. Nevertheless, the sensuality of his melodic line, which gives his “Werther” all its charm, is subtly evident here in the massiveness of the orchestra. The composer seems to be particularly inspired in the first part of the opera, that is, from the first act starting in the large courtyard of a hotel in Amiens to the fourth act in the Hotel de Transylanie, by the natural language of Bizet’s “Carmen,” and in the last part, that is, from the fourth act to the end of the opera, by Verdi’s “La Traviata,” almost to the point of plagiarism.

As in “Werther” at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, the staging is a major asset of this production. The director chooses to set the action during the Roaring Twenties, with Josephine Baker leading Manon away from the good paths of the convent and marriage, towards the dissolute and spendthrift life she dreams of, under the pretext of wanting to emancipate her in the opera. This is a curious assertion, given that Manon repeatedly states that she only wants “more pleasures,” without ever emancipating herself, i.e., gaining independence, and always spending someone else’s money. As Simone de Beauvoir said, “A free woman is the exact opposite of a frivolous woman.” As classic as it is enjoyable and effective, the set design created by Aurélie Maestre with costumes by Clémence Pernoud seems to be inspired by the painters of the time and primitive art sculptures. Each act in the libretto is composed of paintings, and it is in paintings that the staging shows them. Although the first act does not feature any paintings or sculptures, unlike the others, it is nonetheless aesthetically beautiful with its 1920s motifs, costumes, and architecture. Paintings and sculptures are essential elements of the scenography in the following acts. In the attic of the young couple Manon-des Grieux, a Venus de Milo waits to be taken out of its wooden crate, the Cours-la-Reine ballroom contains an African sculpture, a Monet, and a Picasso, the Saint Sulpice cathedral features Delacroix’s paintings, and the last act features a wall “à la Brassai.” The inclusion of Josephine, played by Danielle Gabou as a temptress in the world of performers, in line with the thinking of the time that art was merely entertainment and not a profession or a craft, adds to the realism of the staging. This staging thus highlights, with its beautiful realism, the misogynistic prejudices and those against artists of the time.

Within this framework, the acting is natural, fluid, and yet very carefully crafted, especially that of the main characters. And the comedy of the three friends Poussette, Javotte, and Rosette, who try to persuade Guillot to join them instead of looking after Manon, adding a touch of levity to this very Sulpician universe.

But it was above all the characters that made this production memorable. Although baritone Andrzej Filończyk‘s Lescaut lacked the flexibility of rubato in his dry singing, he nevertheless embodied a fitting cushion for Manon. His singing, nolens volens very close to spoken language, was indicative of that desired by Janáček, or of certain characters by Richard Strauss. Tenor Nicholas Jones‘ Guillot, in addition to his pronounced Australian accent, played the comic register despite himself, to the detriment of the tragic character who takes revenge in the fourth act by denouncing the lovers to the police. Tenor Régis Mengus‘ De Brétigny, whose voice and performance were captivating. His portrayal was undoubtedly more striking than his singing, but his role did not allow for much development either. The Comte De Grieux, played by bass Nicolas Cavallier, showed remarkable acting, incantation, and singing. His transition between recitatives and songs remained fluid, as if one continued the other. His brief dialogue with Manon in the third act, demonstrating the quality of his performance, and his aria in Saint Sulpice Cathedral, “Les grands mots que voilà,” sung without heaviness, supple but firm, in the footsteps of Ludovic Tezier, made his role as touching as Giorgio Germont in “La Traviata.”

The female characters were not to be outdone either. They brought freshness to this opera, despite its heavy and Sulpician conception, with their dancing and humour. The amateur noted the young soprano Ilanah Lobel-Torres as Poussette, who had already made a name for herself as Krista in The Macropoulos Affair, with her studied spontaneity. A singer to watch…

The main characters were perhaps the greatest success of the evening. First and foremost, of course, was tenor Benjamin Bernheim who, after his Werther at the Champs-Elysées, showed with his Chevalier Des Grieux that he is one of the great tenors of French opera today. The qualities of his singing, his acting, and his embodiment once again bordered on transforming his performance into a recital with obligatory accompaniment. The flexibility, naturalness, and fluidity of his timbre in the aria “En fermant les yeux,” at once dreamy, modest, and confident, before he is carried away in the second act, or in “Je suis seul. Seul enfin” in the Saint Sulpice cathedral, leave one pensive.

And soprano Amina Edris in the role of Manon, who managed to show each stage of her character’s evolution—first as a sixteen-year-old teenager, then as a young woman at the ball, and finally as a woman before her death—while maintaining the common thread of her appetite for distraction, revealed the real woman behind the cliché. Her clear, fresh, sparkling singing in the first act, as in “Je suis encore toute étourdie” (“I am still quite dizzy”), then more assertive but still very girlish in “Je consens, vu que je suis bonne” (“I consent, since I am good”), and finally wavering like a flower before falling in “Oui… Je puis encore être heureuse…” (“Yes… I can still be happy…”), continued to charm until the very last breath.

Their duets sounded wonderfully well, their voices blending perfectly and, it seemed, without constraint.

Pierre Dumoussaud‘s Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris, announcing the sensuality of “Werther’s” future in the massiveness of the great French opera orchestra, retained all its qualities for the listener. The balance between the sections, each strong and powerful, gave it the feel of a symphony, with each act serving as a movement. The Choir de l’Opera national de Paris, led by its brilliant choir director Ching-Lien Wu, each time on the note but flexible and graceful, were remarkable.

After the Théâtre Champs-Elysées’ production of “Werther,” the Opéra National de Paris shows that Massenet is a hit in Paris.

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