Doubts were expressed when Gilbert Deflo’s production of Manon was new in 1997: could a work which has its natural home at the Opéra-Comique survive in the cavernous Bastille? The answer is ‘oui et non’. By the time of the revival in 2001, when this performance was recorded, Renée Fleming obviously had the measure of the role in these surroundings. From her first entrance in the Amiens scene in Act 1, she gives plenty of voice to each utterance.

As always, the tone is luscious, the French diction clear, but no one would mistake her for a teenage convent girl. This Manon already sounds ripe and ready for anything. Similarly, Marcelo Alvarez is taking no chances and sings out with big, passionate phrasing.

The production cuts the First Act short, as the lovers escape with the words, ‘Ah, viens partons!’ The whole of the end of the scene, with Guillot, Lescaut and the onlookers, is cut. No doubt this made effective theatre, but it is a minus point if you are looking for a complete Manon. The same thing happens at the end of the Cours-La-Reine scene in Act 3: Manon orders her chair to go to Saint Sulpice, but we don’t get to hear her dismissal of Guillot, ‘Je n’ai rien vu’, nor his reply, ‘Voilà le prix de ma galanterie!’ Surely Michel Sénéchal would have made the most of this?

Jesús López-Cobos conducts with all the authoritative feel for Massenet’s melodies that one would expect, but he doesn’t seem to have been able to find a way to get the singers to pay enough attention to all the pand pp marks that pepper the score. When, in ‘Nous vivrons à Paris’, and in the final duet, Fleming and Alvarez really sing softly, of course it makes all the difference. Inevitably, given the circumstances, it is Manon’s show piece in Act 3 that makes the biggest effect. Strangely, there is no applause after ‘Nous n’avons encore que vingt ans’ – maybe not all the taping was done at performances? Jean-Luc Chaignaud is fair enough as Lescaut, but without any of the suave charm of Michel Dens or Gérard Souzay in older sets.

Manon has fared very well on disc. From EMI there are the versions conducted by Plasson (Cotrubas and Kraus), and Pappano (Gheorghiu and Alagna). Historic recordings under Pierre Monteux (Testament), and Elie Cohen (on various labels, most recently Naxos), still have a claim to one’s attention. The 1970 set, conducted by Julius Rudel, with Beverly Sills, Nicolai Gedda and Souzay ought to be reissued.

As it stands, this new set would never be my first choice: too many cuts, too much audience participation, and the singers often hampered by the theatre they are performing in. The same cast is about to be issued on DVD from TDK; maybe that will change my view. The final curtain says it all – a roar from the audience. Admirers of the two main singers need have no qualms; they are well recorded and give their all to the drama. For the really authentic opéra comique style, it is necessary to go back to the 1928/29 Cohen version, with Germaine Féraldy and Joseph Rogatchewsky. Among modern sets the recommendation would still be the EMI/Pappano.