Manon, Royal Opera House, London
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Even if you are resistant to the charms of Sir Kenneth MacMillan's Manon, there is no escape. Manon is everywhere: in America, in Russia, in Australia, in Continental Europe – and here in England, where, for 28 years, she has returned season after season to the Royal Opera House. Clearly it is the narrative that attracts audiences, a romantic tragedy in which Des Grieux loves Manon through thick and thin, only to watch her die.
Personally, I've always found the ballet's treatment of the story to be crass, and Massenet's music ineffectual – its flaccid sentimentality redeemed only by the heart-tugging theme attributed to Manon. But then two French guest dancers, Sylvie Guillem and Laurent Hilaire (replacing an injured Jonathan Cope), came along. Their partnership has always been fabulous in this and other ballets, an inspired interaction that creates fresh dramatic verisimilitude. But here they so transformed the ballet it seemed completely new. Suddenly, for the first time ever, I was utterly moved. Although the pas de deux and solos have always been Manon's strongest points, they had never seemed so beautiful, their repeated moves building an internal rhythm that communicated an emotional inevitability. And Manon's high lifts, limbs extended like compass points, had a piercing, poignant eloquence, that has frozen her image in my memory forever.
This is what comes of having two thinking dancers who achieve a rapport so close that the Manon/Des Grieux relationship has never seemed so intense and understandable. Compared to the same day's matinée cast of Jamie Tapper and David Makhateli (another guest), they really illuminated aspects of the story, such as Manon's renunciation of material wealth. And then there was the wonder of their dancing: Guillem's effortlessly inflected phrasing; Hilaire, who not only has the looks to provoke heart palpitations, but is also moving better than ever, powering through Des Grieux's adagio solos with sustained smoothness and space-conquering amplitude.
Those solos were created for Sir Anthony Dowell, who now returns as the nasty Monsieur GM. Welcome as his debut is, he needs to tone down the deranged, sliding eyes and baroque rictus if he's not to head towards a titter-inducing grotesqueness. Marianela Nuñez made Lescaut's mistress into an attractive personality and Brian Maloney produced a strong impact as Lescaut thanks to vigorous dancing and better comic timing than the matinée's Martin Harvey. In fact, the matinée suffered from blandness overall, with Tapper's Manon offering no surprises and Makhateli bringing a long arabesque line, but little personality. Better to watch Ashley Page as the jailer, making his farewell appearances at Covent Garden before beginning his new role as Scottish Ballet's artistic director.
To 6 March (020-7304 4000)
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments