Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon, based on Abbé Prévost’s 1731 novel, was created more than 50 years ago in 1974. Set to Jules Massenet’s richly textured score, it must surely be the pinnacle of artistic fulfilment for those who have had the opportunity to dance the leading roles. At this opening night of The Royal Ballet’s extensive run of the production (it returns toward the end of the season), the performances were so deeply moving that tear ducts spilled over in all quarters of the House. This was enhanced thanks to Koen Kessels’ conducting of the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House.
The curtain rose on Joseph Sissens’ Lescaut, Manon’s brother, sitting centre stage with his tricorne, swathed in a black cloak, surveying the dawn awakening with a sense of foreboding. His first solo was impeccable. When I managed to stop ogling his extraordinary feet, I was surprised to discover that he exuded an aura of malice – so unlike the Sissens with whom we are accustomed.
As we were transported swiftly back to 18th-century France, the stage filled with townspeople, actresses, gentlemen and beggars gathering in the courtyard of an inn. Daichi Ikarashi’s Beggar Chief mischievously flew through the air. We were instantly entranced by the introductions of the main characters: Marcelino Sambé’s Des Grieux, Francesca Hayward’s Manon and Bennet Gartside’s controlling Monsieur G.M., while Anna Rose O’Sullivan as Lescaut’s Mistress made an impact within the first few minutes and built the role steadily as the narrative unfolded. For some reason, I had never clocked that Lescaut was so blatantly abusive before. The moment when Sissens struck O’Sullivan came as a bit of a shock.
Sambé’s first solo set the bar very high. Immediately passionate, yearning, with silky smooth lines and stunningly well-controlled pirouettes, it was impossible not to be drawn into his world. By the time Hayward had joined him in their initial pas de deux, I was as smitten as they were with each other. MacMillan’s pas de deux are, in general, aspirational, untouchable. In Manon, they are sensational, partly because they are so inextricably intertwined with the music. Hayward positively glowed and if it isn’t too much of an odd observation, she made such beautiful shapes with her feet and legs, whether she was upside down, curled around Sambé’s shoulders or being thrown in the air.
By the time they had moved on to the bedroom pas de deux, the two of them appeared entirely enamoured. And every time I see Manon, I am charmed when she throws herself face down onto the bed in gesture of unrestrained rapture. The pas de trois between Manon, Lescaut and Monsieur G.M was unsettling. Gartside does a good line in hardcore sleaze. The foot fetish has always been particularly creepy but somehow, he made it repugnant.
Act 2, set in the hôtel particulier, needs a little rethink at the beginning. In spite of Elizabeth McGorian’s unfailingly convincing portrayal of Madame, as she paired up her courtesans with their respective gentleman, there was little or no audience response. I recall very audible laughter at previous performances. O’Sullivan and Sissens did an excellent job of the drunken pas de deux, the best I’ve seen for a while although it is always hard to entirely erase some of the earliest interpretations of these roles.
Hayward began the section where she was passed from man to man, like a party toy, a pretty possession looking ravishingly beautiful but still managed to evoke a feeling of disgust. The reality hitting home that she could be fickle, so easily seduced by wealth. And yet in the following duet with Sambé, she pulled us back on side.
Act 3 is the heartbreaker. First, I was taken aback to see Nicol Edmonds’ thug of a Gaoler. It’s a meaty role but not an easy one and he seemed to inhabit it effortlessly, taking his unpleasantness and misogyny in his stride. The early scenes were a gruelling watch but nothing could have prepared us for the emotional heft of the Louisiana swamp. Sambé and Hayward tore our very souls apart in what was one of the most devastatingly moving accounts of the final pas de deux. This was a performance that will live long in the memory.
