Scottish Opera: ‘Carmen’ by Bizet

Theatre Royal, Glasgow - 13/05/23

Bizet’s Carmen was my first full grand opera, in the sense of the first opera I got to know from start to finish, while I was still in primary school, and as distinct from arias, excerpts, operettas and musical theatre.  It was through the legendary 1964 LP box set with Callas, Gedda, Massard and the Paris Opéra under Georges Prêtre.  Unusually for early 70s Ireland, I had begun to learn French in school.  The experience was epiphanic.  Since then, “Bizet’s Carmen” has always meant “sung in French” for me.

A decade elapsed before my first live opera: ENO’s production of ‘La Bohème’ at the Coliseum in London, sung in English but otherwise unadulterated: the experience was no less epiphanic.  I mention this to show the reader that I harbour no prejudice against operas sung in translation.  ‘La Bohème’ remains my favourite opera, though I confess a preference for hearing it in the original Italian.

I confess also to having missed the detail, in the publicity, that director John Fulljames’ re-imagining of Carmen is in a new English translation by Christopher Cowell.  Recovering quickly from my initial surprise, I am happy to acknowledge that the translation is very good, sitting well with the music and taking little or nothing from the dramaturgy.  However, I have some reservations about the mise-en-scène and the artistic decisions which appear to have driven it.

The whole of the action is framed within a crime investigation.  Don José’s lines from the end of the opera, confessing Carmen’s murder and his despair, are spoken over PA at the beginning.  All original dialogue is cut (fair enough, no need to hear it in translation) but replaced by repeatedly pulling the action back to a Glaswegian (why?) detective (actor Carmen Pieraccini in an amplified speaking role) grilling José, while items of evidence are back-projected on the spartan, minimalist set (Sarah Beaton).  José therefore drifts in and out of the non-contemporaneous operatic action, wearing the casual costume of the interview room with an air of dejection and disconnection.  I concede that this permits an examination of José’s state of mind, but Bizet’s music does this more effectively, and developing throughout the narrative, without interrupting the flow.  The operatic action is transplanted to 1970s Spain under Franco, a brutal, oppressive misogynistic patriarchal society (I have no problem with this per se: SO’s Tosca, set in the Mussolini era, is superb).  Carmen is re-imagined as a feminist antagonist.  I feel that, for different reasons, both principal characters are isolated from the operatic action, their fate sealed in a way that diminishes the characterisation and robs the dramatic narrative of the sense of unfolding tragedy.  More about this later.

However, in purely musical terms, the production is quite excellent.  The Orchestra of Scottish Opera is crisp and clear as ever, with Dane Lam’s musical direction fully exploiting Bizet’s rich store of melody and dramatic picture-painting, coupled with an emotional intensity that is quite astonishing for pre-verismo opera.  Vocally, the principals deliver performances that reward Bizet’s trust and generosity through nuanced and sensitive realisation.  The chorus, likewise, brings the soldiers, the factory girls, assorted smugglers and gypsies, and the crowd at the bullfight, to life with Bizet’s delicious harmonies.  The Children’s Chorus are a welcome addition to the crowd scenes, though sadly the “Changing of the Guard” scene in the first act, where the urchins mimic the marching soldiers, has been cut.

Notwithstanding the limitations on his character development imposed by the peculiarities of the staging, Alok Kumar surmounts these to deliver a credible Don José, guided by the music to be as close to the original as possible, preserving the key elements of abject infatuation, implacable jealousy and, finally, self-loathing and regret, even if he is compelled to carry that ‘final’ emotion through the whole opera.  The challenges facing Justina Gringytė’ s characterisation of the eponymous anti-heroine are, I feel, less surmountable.  Carmen is a self-confessed freedom-loving seductress, with no interest in the men who would pursue and possess her, yet a determination to captivate any man foolish enough to feign imperviousness to her charms.  Can such a character also be a feminist icon?  If such a characterisation is possible (and I do not concede that it is), it requires a formidable acting talent.  In the event, what was delivered, in a vain attempt to reconcile these possibly incompatible character traits, was neither.  I refuse to lay this at Justina’s door – the faux pas is directorial.  Her mezzosinging, by the way, was flawless.

Happily less beset by these challenges were the two sub-principal roles, Escamillo and Micaëla.  Phillip Rhodes’ toreador was true to Bizet’s shallow, uncomplicated braggart, colourfully costumed (Christina Cunningham) and he delivered his famous aria with style.  For me, the star performance of the evening was Hye-Youn Lee’s Micaëla, the innocent but fiercely courageous country girl who really loves José, links him to his Navarre origins and represents his one chance of redemption, which of course he rejects.  Bizet gives her two glorious arias, in the first and third acts, the former reminding José of his mother’s love, but the latter is a prayer for the courage to face danger and rescue José from his descent into a criminal underworld and a state of thraldom to an accursed seductress.  I consider that Hye-Youn Lee’s performance of her Act III aria was the solo highlight of the opera.

Whilst the principals were all non-Scottish talent with established careers, Scottish Opera Emerging Artists did feature in four of the minor roles:  smugglers Dancaïre and Remendado were played by Colin Murray and Osian Wyn Bowen respectively, while Carmen’s Gypsy friends Frasquita and Mercédès were played by Zoe Drummond and Lea Shaw.  Of these, only Colin is home-grown talent, which I confess to finding a little disappointing.  That said, Zoe and Lea’s frivolous duet near the beginning of Act III, when they tell each other’s fortune with Tarot cards, was quite delicious and has remained a welcome earworm of best Bizet harmony still, a few days later.

In a final bizarre disconnect, the murder whose thunder was stolen by the start of the action is played out as follows.  The investigator, who has wandered in and out of the operatic action throughout, stands back centre-stage holding the tagged murder weapon, José stage right, Carmen stage left.  He gestures knifeless, she falls dead.  Why, oh why?  I’m tempted to ask, only I’m afraid someone might tell me.

I went expecting to see and hear “Bizet’s Carmen”.  I heard Carmen and I enjoyed what I heard immensely.  I have no idea what I saw.

Cover photo: James Glossop