How is it possible that Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon has been with us for half a century? Based on the Abbé Prévost novel L’Histoire du Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut, set in the ancien régime of 18th-century France, the ballet tells of Des Grieux, a young philosophy student who falls in love with Manon whilst she is on her way to enter a convent. Manon’s brother, Lescaut, an unscrupulous soldier, has other ideas about Manon’s future, and encourages her to become a courtesan. Central to the story in MacMillan’s ballet is the conflict between Manon’s desire for riches and luxury and her love for the penniless Des Grieux, which ends with extremely unhappy consequences.
MacMillan, in creating the choreography for his three-act work for The Royal Ballet in 1974, was eager to explore the contrast between extreme wealth and extreme poverty in France at that time and investigate what may have led Manon to make the choices she did. Performed in wonderful, evocative designs by Nicholas Georgiadis that literally surround the dancers with filthy rags, Manon is a dark work, and a brutally frank exposition of lives destroyed by degradation and destitution. It is also brim-full of beautiful dancing and MacMillan gave the performers strong, meaty characters into which they could really sink their teeth. It was created on stellar casts that included Antoinette Sibley, Jennifer Penney, Anthony Dowell, David Wall and Monica Mason.
Although received coolly by the critics at first, Manon has since become a favourite with dancers and audiences alike and has been performed not just by The Royal Ballet, but many other dance companies around the world. In particular, Manon is a highly enticing prospect for numerous ballerinas, who relish the opportunity to tackle the role. Although I never had the opportunity to see either Lynn Seymour, Alessandra Ferri or Natalia Makarova as Manon, in the 40-odd years I have been watching the ballet I feel privileged to have witnessed performances by Sibley, Penney, Altynai Asylmuratova, Sarah Wildor and Zenaida Yanowsky – each one brought a highly individual, insightful, and rewarding interpretation to the lead character.
For the latest revival at the Royal Opera House, The Royal Ballet fielded a glorious first-night cast that could not be bettered today, and in Francesca Hayward the company has a Manon that can stand comparison with the very best. Tiny, quick, alive, Hayward’s Manon is both delectable and conniving, her body bending and melting into movement as easily as her character changes her mind. Capricious, beautiful and amoral, here is a young woman prepared to grab at any opportunity, but who also lives under the delusion that she will be able to continue to take from her wealthy protector Monsieur G.M. whilst continuing a love affair with the ardent Des Grieux. Things can only end badly.
It's little wonder Manon would choose Des Grieux over G.M. when he is danced by the thrilling Marcelino Sambé, making his debut in the role. The pair forge a fabulous partnership, taking risks and daring each other on towards feats of astonishing virtuosity in the pas de deux, especially at the end, where MacMillan’s increasingly extreme lifts become symbolic of Manon’s fatal fever. Moreover, every step Sambé takes in the ballet is danced with an intensity and intelligence that expresses his character’s yearning and desperate love for Manon. Sambé builds his slow adagio solo in the first act, when Des Grieux meets Manon for the first time, into a silken outpouring of love and devotion so blind he seems to become irrational and not in control of his own actions. He will do anything for her – even travel with Manon to America when she is deported as a prostitute, and commit murder to protect her. The two were spellbinding, phenomenal, astonishing, and quite the best pairing in this ballet I have seen in years.
Hayward and Sambé were joined by a supporting cast that was equally fine, from the darkly saturnine Lescaut of the marvellous Alexander Campbell, to the lusciously rich dancing and characterisation of Mayara Magri as Lescaut’s Mistress. Gary Avis played Monsieur GM with repulsively reptilian brilliance. Elegant dancing, too, from Yuhui Choe and Melissa Hamilton as Courtesans, and Luca Acri, Calvin Richardson and Joseph Sissens as Gentlemen. Conductor Koen Kessels led a pacy account of Jules Massenet’s music, and Georgiadis’ sets and costumes glowed under the lighting of Jacopo Pantani. Whether appearing as prostitutes, aristocrats or beggars, the entire company rose to the occasion, not only reminding us of the great debt The Royal Ballet owes to Kenneth MacMillan, but how, even in 2024, the world is still beset by poverty, homelessness, prostitution, criminality and extreme privilege (you only need to take a walk around central London to observe that). In his depiction of an 18th-century world, MacMillan holds up a mirror to our own times as well.
