Carmen
Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, 4/8/24
Carmen, Théâtre National de l’Opéra-Comique, director Andreas Homoki
Scottish Chamber Orchestra, conductor Louis Langrée
Gaëlle Arquez soprano, Saimir Pirgu tenor
Andreas Homoki’s 2023 Opéra-Comique production uses the artifice of the theatre to present a compelling account of Bizet’s tragedy, with exceptional singing from a fine cast of soloists and French adult and children’s choirs. The Scottish Chamber Orchestra, fifty-five strong in the pit, are responsive to Louis Langrée’s energetic direction, with transparent textures bringing out the beauties of Bizet’s score.
Homoki’s much-heralded concepts – the replication of the original stage with Eiffel’s arches, the opulent 19th century red curtain and the costume changes to show ‘Carmen’ through the years - are worn lightly. Eiffel’s arches are bleak iron towers at the back of the stage, especially effective in the mountain snow-storm in Act III, while the drawn curtains provide a more intimate stage space, with the thick material helping the singers’ voices project into the Festival Theatre auditorium – a much larger venue than the Opéra-Comique.
His stylised staging includes the removal of the fourth wall by raising the house lights at the beginning of each Act: well-clad bourgeoisie point at us in Act I; the Act III chorus of 1940s bandits moves forward to deliver a warning; the casually-clad 1970s chorus wave in a friendly fashion. How far, Homoki asks, are we implicated in the action? The principals are often seen in a stark spotlight – Escamillo poses in it, Michaëla shield her eyes from it, while Don José crawls from the light and peers over into the orchestra. This is not a realistic production, and yet it nearly always clarifies our understanding of the text.
Gaëlle Arquez’s Carmen is the real deal. There’s no hip-swaying or castanet-clicking here - she seduces by the force of her personality and her compelling, beautifully nuanced voice. Albanian Saimir Pirgu has a striking tenor voice and acts his socks off as her conflicted lover. Both singers grow in stature throughout the opera. Carmen’s Act III aria, during the card scene, sees her accept her fate with both poignancy and grace. Don José’s passion turns to wildness in his knife-wielding encounter with Escamillo. The lovers’ final scene played out on the wide-open black and grey stage, with the dark-red bodice of Carmen’s dress providing the only colour, has genuine tension, ratcheted up by thrilling singing and acting.
French bass-baritone Jean-Fernand Setti, a foot taller than everyone else, looks, acts and sings Escamillo to perfection. His withering scorn for Don José’s attack secures Carmen’s love and is another clear pointer to the tragedy ahead. Elbenita Kajtazi’s Michaëla displays more than usual feistiness when she repels her gentlemen molesters in Act 1 and she sings her arias with steeliness tempering their charm.
The rest of the largely French cast all sing well, their small ensembles sounding particularly delightful, while the adults and children from Accentus and the Maitrice Populaire, deliver top-quality choral singing and imaginative movement. In the raucous start to Act IV, both choirs crowd round a 1970’s telly, egging on the televised bullfighters while singing against the orchestra’s repetition of the toreador’s song. Their two joyful dances make what follows all the more cathartic.
The SCO, who’ve often played for Usher Hall concert operas, are less familiar with the Festival Theatre pit, but they and Langrée prove sympathetic interpreters of what is said to be Bizet’s original lighter score. André Cebrián and Marta Gomez’s double piccolo duties during the children’s military march, and the cellos providing a dying fall underneath Carmen’s death are only two examples of much magnificent orchestral playing tonight.
It was nearly a full house and the raptly attentive audience give the cast a deservedly enthusiastic reception.
Photo Credit : Andrew Perry
