BARCELONA: Manont Lescaut – Giacomo Puccini, 17 March, 2026

Manont Lescaut

Giacomo Puccini

Lyric drama in four acts

Libretto by Domenico Oliva and Luigi Illica with contributions by Marco Praga, Ruggero Leoncavallo, Giacomo Puccini, Giulio Ricordi, and Giuseppe Adami, based on the opera  L’histoire du chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut  by Antoine François Prévost

Premiere: 1 February 1893, Teatro Regio (Turin)
Barcelona premiere: 5 April 1896, Gran Teatre del Liceu

Conductor- Josep Pons

Stage Director – Àlex Ollé

Characters and Performers:

• Manon Lescaut – Asmik Grigorian
• Lescaut – Iurii Samoilov
• Renato Des Grieux – Ivan Gyngazov
• Geronte of Ravoir – Donato Di Stefano
• Edmondo – Filip Filipović
• Dance teacher – Álvaro Diana
• A musician – Mercedes Gancedo
• The innkeeper – Alessandro Vandin
• A Sergeant – Domingo Ramos
• A Commander – Pau Bordas
• A lamplighter – Andrea Antognetti

Set Designer – Alfons Flores

Costume Designer – Lluc Castells

Lighting Designer – Joachim Klein

Lighting Revival – Jann Hartmann

Video Artist – Emmanuel Carlier

Assistant Stage Directors –Raúl Vázquez, Yannis Herrera

Chorus of the Gran Teatre del Liceu
Pablo Assante, Chorus Director

Symphony Orchestra of the Gran Teatre del Liceu 

Gran Teatre del Liceu,17 March, 2026

At the Gran Teatre del Liceu, Manon Lescaut unfolds in Àlex Ollé’s unconventional production, first premiered at Oper Frankfurt in 2019. Drawing on the experimental aesthetic of La Fura dels Baus, Ollé approaches the score through a contemporary lens, reshaping the narrative. In moving away from the work’s traditional core, he seeks to present the story as a visceral, modern portrait of Manon’s tragic displacement.

photo©SergiPanizo

Puccini saw in Manon a heroine of irresistible dramatic force: sensual, contradictory, and deeply human. He famously defended his decision to take up the same subject after Massenet by remarking that “a woman like Manon can have more than one lover.” Ollé’s staging, however, narrows that complexity, recasting Manon almost entirely through vulnerability and coercion. By reimagining her and Lescaut as undocumented migrants at a bus station, he removes the distance of the period setting and presents her not as an 18th-century “fallen woman,” but as a contemporary figure moving through a world of instability, dependence, and abuse.

The opera opens with video footage of migrants crossing the border, accompanied by a voice-over letter from Manon’s mother, written and read in Armenian, pleading that her daughter somehow be brought home. Read by a young man who appears to be Lescaut, it is paired with images of Manon at work, at times subjected to, or at least threatened by, sexual assault.

The opening video and voice-over clearly aim to establish the production’s social framework, though it remains unclear whether the staging points to a specific migratory reality or a more universal condition. In that sense, the language matters less than what it evokes, the fragility of a young woman leaving home in search of a better life.

As expected, the staging is distinctly industrial, dominated by large letters spelling LOVE at the center of the stage. From the very beginning, a station roof partially covers them, subtly suggesting that these letters will take on greater significance as the drama unfolds.

Once the curtain rises, the stage fills with people passing through the bus station, lingering at a café, or drifting around the gas station. Dressed in contemporary clothing, they reinforce the production’s drab, grounded atmosphere. Despite some initial hesitation, the chorus delivered well, while the supernumeraries fulfilled their role effectively.

Manon appears in mismatched, uncoordinated clothing, stripped of elegance and suggestive of a rough existence, perhaps also intended to underline her migrant status. She is presented as a contemporary young woman already marked by emotional heaviness. In the title role, Asmik Grigorian fully inhabits this vision, bringing dramatic conviction to the character while maintaining a lyrical, smooth vocal line.

photo©SergiPanizo

Lescaut is drawn in a similarly contemporary register, dressed in sports trousers, a leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and a crossbody bag, he carries the air of a streetwise intermediary. Iurii Samoilov inhabits this opportunistic characterization with commanding stage presence, supported by a resonant voice of warm color and emotional expressiveness. He is particularly effective in his scenes with Geronte, where the character’s pragmatic instincts emerge most vividly.

Geronte, meanwhile, is styled not as a conventional older aristocrat, but as a figure of shady influence, somewhere between a small-time mobster and a man who profits from other people’s vulnerability. Donato Di Stefano fully embodied the role, shaping the proposed character through stage movement, posture, and vocal delivery.

Amid this gallery of figures, Des Grieux stands apart as more composed and relatively refined, dressed in simple yet coordinated clothes. Ivan Gyngazov brought a solid stage presence, a powerful voice, and a secure upper register to Des Grieux. His singing was clearly emotionally engaged, though the tone at times felt somewhat constricted, and despite the expressive intention, the emotional impact did not fully reach me in the first half of the opera.

As Edmondo, Filip Filipović contributed a fresh presence and well-projected vocal line, portraying a good friend. His appearance also places him visually closer to Des Grieux than to the rougher world around them, while Alessandro Vandin offered a neat and well-sung portrayal of the Innkeeper.

Overall, the first act establishes a concept, though its emotional impact remains uneven. The social framing is clear, but not always matched by the immediacy the score demands. The link with opening video remains unclear, and as the scene shifts to Amiens, the action no longer seems to follow from it.

In the second act, we are transported from the idea of a lavish Parisian salon to something entirely different, a strip club, where dancers in minimal clothing perform on poles against vivid pink lighting, openly suggesting a world of transactional intimacy. The LOVE letters reappear, now partially enclosed within a staircase-like structure.

One must say that Asmik Grigorian delivers an intensely physical performance, fully committing to the demands of the staging, dancing on the pole, stretching, and singing at the same time. Vocally she is outstanding. Her rich, elegant voice fills the hall with ease, and the upper register can send real shivers through the listener. At moments, I found myself closing my eyes simply to remove the staging from the equation and focus entirely on the voices and music.

photo©SergiPanizo

There is little sign of Manon’s prosperous life. Instead, she aligns with the woman suggested in the opening video, someone who, to survive, has entered a transactional arrangement, almost like a victim of trafficking. Rather than having everything yet feeling empty, she appears to possess very little, materially or emotionally, remaining subject to others’ desires. The idea may be to externalize her psychological emptiness, but the contradiction is not always resolved.

Ivan Gyngazov emerges as an emotionally engaged lover, still somewhat tense, yet vocally clear in projecting his feelings. Iurii Samoilov offers a nuanced portrayal of Lescaut, whose concern for his sister emerges beneath his opportunistic exterior, driving his urgency to get them away before the police arrive. Donato Di Stefano infused Geronte, here presented as the owner of the club, with a disturbing vulgarity. The sense of unease came through as much vocally as physically, making the character repellent. Additionally, Mercedes Gancedo as the Musician and Álvaro Diana as the Dance Teacher contributed with assurance, both vocally and on stage, with Gancedo proving particularly impressive.

In the escape scene, Asmik Grigorian delivers yet another dramatically committed performance, clinging insistently to the riches she wants to take with her. Yet in this staging, the gesture seems to suggest that none of it was ever truly hers. Rather than a woman unable to relinquish luxury, she appears to cling to something that was never truly hers.

Unfortunately, the second act feels completely out of balance with the music. The staging neither enhances nor supports the singers, and at times seems to drift entirely away from the score, creating a disconnect that weakens the overall dramatic impact.

The stage movement at times lacks cohesion, and the open space remains underused. Manon and Lescaut, and later Des Grieux, are confined to the margin of the stage, as if pressed into corner by the situation. While the vocal performances remain emotionally engaged, this positioning has limited theatrical impact and may even restrict visibility for parts of the audience. The same applies to the dancers at the bar and surrounding figures, who serve their purpose but add little.

photo©SergiPanizo

Manon’s confinement act marks one of the evening’s most effective turns. The LOVE letters are now barricaded, transformed into a stark image of imprisonment. The women are held in mesh enclosures, while police and a dog move among them, creating a deeply unsettling atmosphere. Grigorian gave powerful expression to Manon’s collapse of dreams, while Gyngazov brought Des Grieux’s desperation vividly to life. Particularly haunting was Manon’s presence as, in the background, the names of the women were called out and they were dragged toward the ship.

At this point, the staging elements, set, lighting, and the physicality of the performers, come together with force, bringing into sharp focus the dehumanizing logic of migrant detention. Domingo Ramos as the Sergeant, Pau Bordas as the Commander, and Andrea Antognetti as the Lamplighter all contribute to the dramatic tension, reinforcing the oppressive atmosphere of the confinement scene.

The final act opens with video footage of the ocean, suggesting the ship’s journey toward the shores of America, carrying Manon and Des Grieux, who has sacrificed everything to remain by her side.

In contemporary terms, such a Manon would more likely face detention or deportation than exile to Louisiana. As a result, the final act feels less fully translated into the production’s migrant framework and more closely tied to the original operatic logic. It may, however, be also understood not in literal terms, but as an externalization of Manon’s final psychological desolation.

Following the waves, we reach the Louisiana desert. The stage is dark and bare, the four letters now fully revealed yet reversed, as Manon and Des Grieux are left alone in a bleak image of emptiness and despair.

For the first time in the evening, Ivan Gyngazov’s performance fully reached me, while Asmik Grigorian carried me away completely. Here, her acting, vocal delivery, and tragic intensity aligned with devastating force. Tears were running down my face throughout the act, especially during Sola, perduta, abbandonata, which she delivered with overwhelming dramatic impact and an impeccably sustained vocal line.

photo©SergiPanizo

Amid this final surge of emotion, the letters continue to turn, and only with Manon’s final breath do they finally fall into place, revealing the word LOVE in full, the one thing that was real, the only thing she could truly call her own, and the one thing that ultimately meant everything to her.

The musical direction under Josep Pons supported the performance well overall, though at times the orchestral balance felt a bit leaning forward, and certain tempi slightly brisk, with limited space between arias.

photo©SergiPanizo

Ultimately, Ollé’s staging seems to unfold as a parallel narrative alongside Puccini’s Manon Lescaut. At times, it feels like an overlay, a second reality projected onto the original drama, shaped by images of migration, precarity, exploitation, and control. In this way, the production functions less as a straightforward modernization than as a contemporary interpretive frame. It does not always sit comfortably within the opera’s dramatic logic, and at times risks flattening rather than enriching the contradictions at the heart of Puccini’s heroine. Even so, the image of a vulnerable young migrant woman comes through. Ultimately, it is the singers’ musical and dramatic commitment, above all  Asmik Grigorian’s, that gives the evening its strongest emotional resonance.

Caterine N.Andro