Manon is far from a warm and fuzzy narrative. Indeed, when it debuted in 1974 at the Royal Opera House, London, it was initially received coolly by critics, but it proved popular with audiences and grew into one of the great ballet classics.
The production has been missing from The Australian Ballet’s repertoire for a decade; it was first staged in 1994 and last performed in 2014.
So why is the timing right to return Manon to our mainstage?
In many ways, the narrative – while timeless – has an urgency and a narrative of social justice that raises questions under our contemporary lens. Based on Abbé Prévost’s 1731 novel, the story in a nutshell is as follows: Manon falls in love with an idealistic student, Chevalier des Grieux, but is also seduced by the lure of wealth and luxury in Paris, and is drawn into the grasp of the powerful nobleman Monsieur GM. She’s essentially pimped by her brother Lescaut for money. Manon is charged as a prostitute and then exiled. She is pursued by des Grieux and the lovers fight to stay together, but their story ends in heartbreak.
Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s version of the tragic tale explores the temptation of wealth in a society that is divided by economic disparity. It sets true love and desire against position and the profitability of arranged marriages (which are still practised today). And it explores the kind of shaming that comes with the territory of a sex worker, and the reality of contemporary exile and displacement. It also puts sexual violence front of stage.
While these ideas have currency, sadly this production does not attempt to updated its traditional staging.
Nonetheless, Peter Farmer’s costumes are stunning in their fabrics, layering, colours and movement, capturing the opulence of 18th century Paris. His sets are appropriately staged for the narrative – delivering the contrast from Paris ballrooms to Louisiana swamps – and, yet, there are moments within the production that are very congested on stage, too many such moments.
Technically, Manon is an extremely demanding work. And, when topped with such emotional intensity, it’s not surprising that it isn’t a regular part of the repertoire. As Artistic Director David Hallberg says: “With the passion of the storytelling, every moment demands complete commitment from the dancers, physically and emotionally.”
This production certainly pulls off that energy and emotion. Benedicte Bemet delivers an exquisite and flawless performance of Manon. She is absolutely mesmerising on stage, her emotional command carries audiences deep inside the psychology of this tragic tale.
As her lover des Grieux, Joseph Caley matches her emotion well, and their pas de deux in the bed chamber is deeply intimate – tender, passionate and, at moments, twinged with a desperation that comes with desire. They are electric on stage and Caley’s powerful lifts leave the audience gaping.
Brett Chynoweth as Lescaut, Manon’s brother, settles into the role after his Act I debut, and holds the stage well with well-defined foot work and lifts. The opening scene with a cloaked Lescaut – his chiselled features emphasised by the lighting – sets the tone for this dramatic, dark ballet. In contrast, Chynoweth’s portrayal of the drunken Lescaut is both humorous and convincing – a difficult task for a dancer whose gestures are so finely-tuned to perfection to then embrace a clumsy gesture.
In a clever pas de trois he pimps his sister, who lifts her legs in arabesques over Monsieur GM’s head. The question of who is in control is ever-changing. Who really holds the power here? Is it the wealthy suitor, the brother as pimp or Manon herself, wielding her youthful beauty for gain, as others leech off her charisma?
This is heightened in another sequence when, in a series of sweeping lifts, Manon is passed from one man to another, her leg draped over their shoulders in a charged gesture, soliciting mid-air and intoxicated in her own power to manipulate their desire.
In this realm of desire, Jill Ogai as Lescaut’s mistress has a charm on stage that is infectiously likeable.
As Monsieur GM, however, Adam Bull feels stiff beyond his repugnant character. Certainly, we are not meant to like Monsieur GM, but the range of emotion feels challenged in Bull’s delivery. This does not hamper his technical delivery of the role, however.
Gillian Revie (Madam X) and Jarrad Madden (Gaoler) also deliver energised and convincing performances, as do the lively cast of Courtesans and Protectors.
Overall, Manon is a beautiful production on stage – visually rich and engaging, and technically an awe-inducing ballet to watch. But it is dark – oh so dark.
Read: Exhibition review: Tina Stefanou, You Can’t See Speed, ACCA
Audiences have had a long wait for Manon – and I suspect it will be a while again after this season – so be sure to see this classic. And, I would suggest, from its narrative of desire and power you should question societal power play today.
Manon
The Australian Ballet
Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
Choreography: Sir Kenneth MacMillan
Composer: Jules Massenet, orchestrated by Martin Yates
Accompanied by Opera Australia Orchestra.
Set and Costume Design: Peter Farmer
Lighting Design: Jacopo Pantani
Manon will be performed until 17 May 2025 before touring to Melbourne from 10-22 October at the Regent Theatre, with Orchestra Victoria.
