Puccini's Manon Lescaut promised to be extraordinary: firstly, for being the opera that inaugurated the Teatro Real season; secondly, for its secular silence at the 'Foro' and, finally, for a star like Sondra Radvanovsky at the helm of the performance. It remained, only, as a "not bad," but, above all, as "much room for improvement." Surely, the person most responsible for this 'highs and lows' was the artistic director of the co-production with the Oper Köln, Carlos Wagner. Not so much for a staging that turns out to be more aesthetic than functional, as for a direction of actors that meant nothing held together with a minimum of solidity; not for the imposture in every gesture, which also, but for a childish conception of the characters. Against the Venezuelan Wagner, Nicola Luisotti fought with his effective and silent instrument. So much so that the greatest applause of the evening was for him and the Teatro Real orchestra just after performing the famous Intermezzo, which they have moved from the beginning of the third act to the start of the fourth, with a projection of the vast sea as a visual element with which to bear witness to the journey that Des Grieux and Manon take towards their desert and North American destiny. This magical moment caused a packed-to-the-rafters Teatro Real to erupt, which seemed to be to unleash the audience's desire to applaud, which had been meager, and those that did emerge, a little too subdued.
As for Michael Fabiano's Des Grieux, tasked with replacing Brian Jagde, it was clear that the character was a bit too much for him to handle, right from the complicated and demanding Donna non vidi mai, which he resolved with some struggle and a very elementary dramatic interpretation that made his credibility in the role of a seducer unlikely. It goes without saying that Sondra Radvanovsky fulfilled her task with high marks, with a high-level Sola, perduta, abbandonata, but it is no less true that the costume she was assigned in the second act not only did her no favors, but also evidenced and accentuated that the singer's age did not correspond, not only with the character, but also with the manners, which were neither accurate, nor by any means, plausible. Better in the portrayal, both of Lescaut, played by Lucas Meachem, and even the Geronte of Pietro Spagnoli. The chorus had to do too many things besides singing, a fact that also did not help the whole to stop being so artificial.
We could keep scratching, especially in the staging, with a ridiculous pole dancing sequence of cringeworthy embarrassment and a reference to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which intended to make Manon an impossible Lorelei Lee. And so on, successively.