Ambivalent

“Manon”
Ballet Company of Teatro alla Scala
Teatro alla Scala
Milan, Italy
July 08, 2024 (live stream)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2024 by Ilona Landgraf

Given the mind-boggling speed with which Western culture is changing, La Scala’s live stream of Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon felt like a relic from the good old days of ballet. Unlike other staples of the classical repertory—Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, or The Nutcracker, for example—with a spiritual dimension that serves as a source of inspiration in difficult times, Manon has the opposite effect. Based on Abbé Prévost’s novel Manon Lescaut (1731), it dives deeply into the social swamp of early-18th-century France and in the real swamps near the then-French colony of Louisiana. Rabble and the poor crowd the streets and the upper class’s silk and satin façade barely hides their rotten morals. Sex, money, and power reign in everyday life, and, for women, alluring men is the only way to secure an existence. Not a single soul remains untainted in the sex-and-crime-ridden love tragedy of Manon.

Its eponymous heroine, initially the epitome of purity and inner beauty, falls for fur, jewels, and status just as all the rest do and realizes too late that she has made herself a captive of ephemeral glitter. Manon’s faithful lover, Des Grieux, is so imbued with his idea of the good, true, and beautiful that he struggles to keep her from being led astray. Only gradually does he man up and free Manon from the grip of her wealthy suitor, Monsieur G.M. Des Grieux and Manon escape to their love nest, but Des Grieux, blinded by bliss, again acquiesces to her fascination with wealth. While both waste away precious time instead of fleeing, the noose is quickly tightening for them. Monsieur G.M. takes revenge by shooting Manon’s brother and arresting her for prostitution. Des Grieux accompanies Manon on her way to the penal colony in Louisiana and there, by stabbing a brutal jailer for raping Manon, Des Grieux finally put his foot down. However, it is too late for a happy ending.

The story of Manon is anything but uplifting unlike the quality of the performance, which was indeed uplifting. The courtyard of the inn near Paris brimmed with cocky, fleet-footed beggars (led by a crafty rascal danced by Domenico Di Cristo) and saucy demimondes parading their charms. Yet the sauntering gentlemen and their dressed-up companions couldn’t hide the fact that this was a sleazy place. In such surroundings, both Nicoletta Manni’s Manon and Reece Clarke’s Des Grieux reminded me of fresh, white linen that has fallen into the muck. Clarke’s elegant lines seemed an extension of his soul’s ideals to which he aspired with pathos. He was a pure-minded young man who, for a time, rested within himself.
Perhaps that was why Clarke seemed fully absorbed in the choreography rather than in the fond eyes of his Manon. Once alone with her in his lodgings, he turned into an attentive lover with unleashed, deep passion. Was the faint smile on his lips as Manon was swarmed by suitors at Madame’s brothel party an expression of despair or a lack of comprehension? In any case, his glance as he lay his heart at Manon’s feet was irresistible.

Manni’s Manon was an affirmation that she merited her nomination for this year’s Prix Benois, albeit for a different role: Medora in Le Corsaire. Manni’s dancing was immaculate, her nuanced acting utterly convincing, and her entire performance pure joy.
Although he was a well-mannered gentleman on the surface, Gabriele Corrado’s Monsieur G.M. turned out to be a scumbag inside. Incongruent, too, were the façade and real character of Manon’s brother Lescaut (Nicola Del Freo). At first sight, he appeared to be a caring young man but was in fact utterly corrupt and, at times, sottish. I don’t know why his mistress (Martina Arduino) put up a brave front when his alcohol odor and glassy stare cried out for a thorough dressing down. Perfectly lascivious, she knew how to sell herself, and I think she certainly got hold of a new suitor once Lescaut had met his untimely death in a bloody showdown.
The jailer (Gioacchino Starace) who received the shipload of female convicts in Louisiana was immediately disgusting. A violent, arrogant bastard, he ticked all the boxes of stereotypical rotten penal system staff.
A smart whore mistress to the core, Madame (Francesca Podini) satisfied the appetite of all of her brothel’s clientele. Her business seemed to go very well, though her employees were sometimes absorbed in catfights.

Paul Connelly and the Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala contributed a well-versed rendition of Jules Massenet’s score.

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