BRUSSELS—The day after the Metropolitan Opera in New York unveiled a production of Verdi’s “Rigoletto” set in Las Vegas during the 1960s, I was in Belgium, where another exercise in operatic updating is underway at the Théâtre royal de la Monnaie. Here, Mariusz Trelinski’s staging of Puccini’s “Manon Lescaut” — through Feb. 8 — situates the opera in the waiting room of a subway station.
Opera goers are often incensed by productions like these, yet updating is potentially a relatively mild device. Once the new setting is established, the action can play out coherently and essentially traditionally. This happened with “La Bohème” last summer at the Salzburg Festival, staged by Damiano Michieletto.
One could object to the hovel of the bohemians’ Parisian loft, but there was something touching about seeing Anna Netrebko as Mimì crouched in the snow behind a hotdog truck near the city’s peripheral expressway, as she overheard Rodolfo and Marcello discussing her fragile health.
By contrast, La Scala’s recent “Lohengrin” directed by Claus Guth, which focused on the repressiveness of German society at the time of the opera’s composition and, in Mr. Guth’s fanciful interpretation, its bizarre effects on the psyche of the title character, counts as truly radical.
The Met’s take on “Rigoletto” had a widely acknowledged antecedent in Jonathan Miller’s production of the opera for the English National Opera, which was set in New York’s Little Italy and seen in that city on a 1984 tour. The Met’s new production by Michael Mayer is reportedly less successful. Writing in The New York Times, Anthony Tommasini detected “dynamic elements in this colorful, if muddled and ill-defined ‘Rigoletto’” but noted that “there are big holes” in Mr. Mayer’s concept. The criticism is directed not so much at the updating itself but the lack of disciplined follow-through.
The updating of “Manon Lescaut,” which is specified to take place in the 18th century, comes off as inherently misguided. Boris Kudlicka’s chic-looking set is essentially all in black, although city lights are sometimes visible, as if seen from a moving train. A system map is on one wall, pay telephones on another.
The mismatch is apparent from the first measures of Puccini’s sparkling orchestral introduction to Act 1. This is music designed for the outdoors—a public square in Amiens—not a space underground. It announces something special is in the works, not dreary routine. It conveys youthful high spirits, not gloom. Also, the mores of pre-revolutionary France are important in the opera.
Whether Mr. Trelinski’s conception of Manon herself is an outgrowth of his updating, or the other way around, it robs her of her allure. When, early on, the smitten Des Grieux declares his love for her, Manon sits at the end of a bar wearing a red coat and dark glasses and smoking a cigarette—the very image of a prostitute. Manon is a material girl all right, but one with such irresistible femininity she gets what she wants from men without having to market herself. You never sense this here. Further, a demimonde element weighs on the first two acts. Manon’s benefactor, Geronte (the bass Giovanni Furlanetto, in excellent voice), is depicted as a crime figure, and there is some curious activity involving topless girls and golf clubs.
Mr. Trelinski’s approach also intensifies an acknowledged structural weakness of the opera. All the opera’s gaiety is concentrated in the first two acts, whereas Act 3 and 4—in which Manon is deported from France and then dies in the New World—are uniformly gloomy. But here, Acts 1 and 2 are gloomy too.
Mr. Trelinski, who is artistic director of the Teatr Wielki in Warsaw, where the production originated, is a respected director with some notable achievements. I have admired his double bill of Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” and Tchaikovsky’s “Iolanta,” which will be seen at the Met in a future season. His work here has some redeeming aspects, especially in Act 4. Puccini’s setting for this act—a vast desert near the outskirts of New Orleans—is one of opera’s most implausible, so it is no great loss to see it supplanted. Fascinatingly, Mr. Trelinski ensures that Des Grieux suffers here as much as Manon does, as he becomes delusional and, apparently, starts to see double. A second Manon appears, whom Des Grieux cannot seem to distinguish from the first.
Carlo Rizzi presides over a colorful reading of the score and a cast headed by an excellent pair of lovers in Eva-Maria Westbroek and Brandon Jovanovich. When the two sang their big duet in Act 2, you could forget about the production and become wrapped up in Puccini’s drama. Ms. Westbroek’s commanding soprano is a bit large for Manon, whose music can profit from greater tonal delicacy. Still, she offers some splendid singing, apart from some difficulty on top, and gives an especially gripping account of Manon’s final aria, “Solo, perduta, abbandonata.”
In this production Des Grieux emerges as the more emotionally vibrant lover, and Mr. Janovich’s clear, virile singing makes the most of the opportunity. Unfortunately, he was in ill health and departed the performance after Act 2, but the intervention of Hector Sandoval, the alternate Des Grieux, allowed the performance, which was streamed to movie theaters, to continue without a hitch. He sang well and knew intricacies of the staging, flaws and all.
