"Manon Lescaut," Hawaii Opera Theatre's opening production this season, was not Puccini's greatest work, but it was his first big hit and made his reputation as Verdi's successor.

In Act I, Manon, a young woman from the country, is being escorted to a convent by her brother when they meet a royal tax collector, wealthy old Geronte, and a young student from a poor but once noble family, the chevalier (knight) Renato des Grieux. This being opera, the plot unfolds around the flawed and foolish young lovers: Manon is beautiful but has a fatal weakness for wealth; des Grieux is noble but has a fatal weakness for Manon. Her brother Lescaut is an affable but opportunistic parasite who lives off of Manon's charms, and Geronte is an aristocrat who lusts after Manon.

The most pivotal character in Puccini's version is one the plot never mentions — the orchestra, which was eloquent in Friday's performance. Conducted by Ivan Torzs, the orchestra conveyed the opera's complex emotional tapestry in fine detail. There were outstanding solos by the cello, harp and especially by flautist Susan McGinn in her duets with Manon.

The HOT Chorus sang and acted beautifully. They remained in character, even when "on hold" to the side, moving with a natural flow, and stepping in and out of each scene's focus perfectly on cue. Their sound was well blended, even when their spread across the stage elicited some phasing.

The role of Manon is a prime example of one of opera's most common anomalies: a heroine in her teens with a vocal part that demands a fully mature voice, which rarely develops before singers reach their mid-30s.

Julia Kierstine neither looked nor sounded like an immature young woman, but her large, clear, flexible soprano created a dynamite Manon. Her head voice was sweet and warm, anchored in a powerful chest voice. Hers was by far the largest and finest voice on stage.

Kierstine's tightly controlled vibrato imparted a ringing tone that tugged at heartstrings and commanded the stage, and her pleas convincing des Grieux to love her again (end of Act II) and her hesitant faltering lines as she dies (Act IV) became transformative. Kierstine was also able to convey youthful inconstancy, boredom and superficial remorse well, which made Manon more sympathetic than pathetic.

Richard Crawley as des Grieux proved a good match for Kierstine's Manon, with the mature voice and lyricism to portray a once-noble family, but without the vocal power to stand up to Manon, as befits des Grieux's milquetoast character. Crawley's biography describes him as a spinto tenor, but the unsteadiness of his top notes suggests that he may be pushing his voice too hard, which is perhaps a natural response to being on stage with Kierstine. Crawley was especially thrilling in his despairing aria near the end of Act II ("Ah, Manon, mi tradusce ...") and in his unaccompanied pleas at the end of Act III.

Kelly Anderson's Lescaut, with his robust baritone and baser desires, the self-styled master who botches everything, turned out to be the best match for Kierstine's Manon — strong but not dominant — and Valerian Ruminski seemed to merge into his role as Geronte, so that it was difficult to keep singer and actor separate. His voice suited Geronte perfectly, covering the "old-man-bass" range, but with a lighter, quasi-baritone timbre that conveyed aristocratic class.

Erik Haines, a local artist singing Edmondo and the Sergeant, proved to be a particular delight. The parts, but especially Edmondo, are a challenge because most of the lines are sung over full orchestra and chorus. Haines had no difficulty being heard, his warm tenor carrying cleanly, his acting assured.

In cameo roles, Pauline Taumalolo as the madrigal soloist, Jeremy Blossey as the Dancing Master, and James Price as the Hair Dresser and Lamplighter, whose solo as the Lamplighter was lovely, were especially noteworthy.

HOT's resident scenic and lighting designer Peter Dean Beck constructed a graceful frame with visible struts set back on the stage so that scenes appeared to spill out toward the audience. The struts were echoed in half-timbered buildings, in exposed inner supports of crumbling city walls, and in the back side of the raked floor.

As the director explained in the program, the scenic design echoed the 18th century, in which "the style and extravagance of the French aristocracy was a facade that hid many realities. ... The seams and mechanics are always on view."

The raked stage pivoted through the scenes, until it was facing backward, seams exposed at the end, the world turned inside out. While the theory worked, in practice, the reversed stage placed Manon dying on the backside of a slope, where the front rows could not see her, and with stairs amid a barren desert.

Director Jay Lesenger fleshed out the story with explanatory supertitles and transported the intermezzo transition from before Act III ("The Journey to Le Havre") to before Act IV (calling it "The Voyage from Le Havre"), where it created a more balanced three-part structure.

Lesenger used the chorus to excellent effect, shaping their movements to the story.

Overall, Lesenger delivered an almost seamless performance, the Puccini work's shortcomings obscured and its virtues highlighted.