The emotionally charged Sydney production of Manon by The Australian Ballet premiered last night at the Sydney Opera House. The company last performed Manon in 2014, making this its first return to the stage in over a decade. Based on the audience’s reception when the curtain fell, it was clear that Manon’s return was long overdue.
Sir Kenneth MacMillan – former iconic creative director and principal choreographer of The Royal Ballet – adapted Abbé Prévost’s 1731 novel, with his company premiering the production in London in 1974. Interestingly, the original novel, which features prostitution, gambling and petty crime, was too scandalous for its time and was banned in 1733 and 1735, which led to an updated edition in 1753 with a foreword, advising readers it’s a story of 'a terrible example of the force of passions'.
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This powerful classical ballet has been part of the Australian Ballet’s repertoire since 1994, laying bare the stark divide between wealth and poverty. Accompanied by a sweeping score by Jules Massenet, this production of Manon walks a tightrope between elegance and despair, with sensuality and the corruption of innocence thrown into the mix just to complicate things.
Set in 18th-century Parisian high society, the audience follows the tragic love story of Manon (Benedicte Bemet), a young, destitute woman seduced by the powerful aristocrat, Monsieur G.M (Adam Bull). The lure of escaping poverty for a new lavish life is ultimately her undoing - as well as her brother’s (Brett Chynoweth) - as she chooses wealth over Des Grieux (Joseph Caley), the penniless love of her life.
Bemet’s portrayal of Manon is brilliant, capturing the character’s evolution from youthful innocence to tragic downfall with nuance and depth. Given the complexity of Manon’s character, a young woman torn between love and lust, Bemet brings emotional clarity to each shift in her moral compass. But Manon’s descent isn’t hers alone. The people around her, particularly the imposing presence of Monsieur G.M., portrayed masterfully by Adam Bull, are instrumental in shaping her fate.
It’s also hard to take your eyes off Bull’s chilling performance, which is both charismatic and coercive, embodying the seductive power of wealth and status that ultimately corrupts Manon. You love to hate him.
In contrast, Caley's portrayal of Des Grieux moves through the story with quiet desperation, heightening with each Act. Caley brings an emotional weight to the role that’s almost distressing, as you can see the struggle in his body, in the way he reaches for Manon even as the world he knows slips away.
While he’s not an innocent bystander in all of this, his moral descent is softer than Manon’s, but no less tragic as we learn in the end. There’s a purity to his love that makes every betrayal of his values and his identity hit harder. Never overreaching, Caley portrays Des Grieux with heartbreaking restraint.
The opulence of 18th-century Paris is brought to life through stunning costuming that goes beyond historical reference and becomes part of the storytelling. From the tattered streetwear of the impoverished to the lavish silks, corsets, and powdered wigs of the elite, each piece speaks to the social divide that defines Manon’s world. The clever costuming mirrors her moral unravelling, right through to the end where she finally rests in the arms of Des Grieux in the swamplands of New Orleans.
Visually, the staging is stunning, particularly in Act II (personally, my favourite Act), set in Madame X’s lavish hotel. Here, the grandeur of the set becomes a character in itself, where transactions of power and desire play out in full view. The ornate detail of the hotel’s interior heightens the tension, wrapping the characters in a world that is as seductive as it is suffocating. Additionally, Monan’s drunken brother, Lescaut (Brett Chynoweth) provides moments of well-placed humour, with his entertaining ‘drunk ballet’.
It’s a sharp contrast to the sparse and shadowed streets of Act I, underscoring just how far Manon has been swept into a world of debauchery and lust. The interaction between Manon and Monsieur during Act II is also an important part of the storytelling. Even though it unfolds off to the side of the stage while the rest of the action draws the eye elsewhere, it’s impossible to ignore once you notice it. The power dynamic is unmistakable. Monsieur doesn’t need to command centre stage as his influence radiates outward. That moment captures just how trapped Manon is, not just by circumstance but by the people who claim to own her.
Manon is the kind of ballet that stays with you. Not just for the beauty of the dancing, but because of its brilliant storytelling. It’s beautiful, dramatic, sensual, yet uncomfortable. You don’t need to know ballet to feel it, also making it an excellent production for newcomers. Manon by The Australian Ballet pulls you in.
- What: Manon by The Australian Ballet
- When: 30 April – 17 May 2025
- Where: Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House / Tubowgule
- Purchase tickets here.