NZ Opera Presents: Carmen
22nd June 2017
ASB Theatre, Auckland, New Zealand.
Review by Sarah Kidd. Photography by Marty Melville.
This evening is the opening night of NZ Operas second presentation for 2017 and it was wonderful to see a full house in attendance at Auckland’s ASB Theatre. For those of you unfamiliar with Bizet’s creation, or opera in general, Carmen is one of the more well-known operas of the world and I can guarantee that you would have heard one of the famous arias from it at some point in your life.
Carmen is an opera of four acts composed by Georges Bizet and first performed in Paris on March the 3rd 1875. The highly controversial storyline was not exactly well received by the French and it actually gained more popularity in its performances outside of France where it was (and continues to be) praised for the music’s ability to perfectly convey the emotions of the characters. Traditionally sung in French, productions often now have the English subtitles projected onto a screen set above the stage.
Carmen is set in Southern Spain and is the story of a young soldier by the name of Don José who after falling for the charms of the beautiful and elusive gypsy woman Carmen; abandons his childhood sweetheart Micaëla, deserts the army and ends up as part of a smugglers crew along with Carmen. But it is all for nothing as Carmen spurns José in favour of the infamous toreador [bullfighter] Escamillo. Enraged and driven mad with jealously, José eventually takes Carmens life. There is no standard version of Carmen with each director bringing their own artistic touch to the production, so it is always fascinating to see how each director approaches the story.
This season of Carmen is directed by Lindy Hume (Artistic Director of Opera Queensland) with the live orchestra being conducted by the marvellous Francesco Pasqualetti who is a pure joy to watch. The opening scene begins with the cast walking out onto stage and standing still while watching the audience, a few members smoking cigarettes while doing so, a nod to the fact that the story begins outside the local cigarette factory where Carmen works. It was a rather interesting way to begin the first act and almost felt like you were being challenged by the cast themselves. Slowly groups peeled away, the chorus followed by the minor characters until you were left with only the main characters themselves, who also one by one disappeared so that you were once again left looking at the stone walls and rusty staircases of the cigarette factory.
The set design was simplistic but clever, the stone walls being split into two pieces, with one curving off into the distance giving the optical illusion of space. The metal staircases were utilised well and were rearranged three times throughout the evening to fit the scene. My only complaint would be that unfortunately they are a little noisy and you can hear the chorus shifting on them while off scene which is a little distracting during the opening duet between José and Micaëla.
The chorus used in the production are excellent and have certainly been cast well. The chorus also includes several children; while they only appear in the first and fourth acts they certainly add a depth of flavour and a point of interest to the story as well as credibility. While many productions of Carmen often portray the women of the town as flirts, all tumbling bosoms and hitched up skirts, tonight’s production depicted instead women who were just trying to do their job and who were rather exasperated by the continual and rather salacious advances of the soldiers and local men who would hang around outside the factory as if like vultures waiting for the women to come out on their breaks.
Our first real introduction to Carmen is when she sings ‘L’amour est un oiseau rebelle’ more commonly referred to as Habanera. As she sings perched at the top of the staircase we watch as all of the men are drawn to her, hypnotised by her charms; they stand in pack formation their bodies slowly moving in a circular motion, which was rather striking and gave the illusion of the men being spellbound by her words. José however tries to avert his eyes and ignore her, breaking away from the pack several times before finally succumbing and being drawn in as well. The song title in English means ‘Love is a rebellious bird’ and we soon grow to realise that that is exactly what Carmen is, a rebel who longs to be as free as a bird.
Don José is played tonight by the incomparable Tom Randle (who interestingly enough actually began his career as a conductor/composer). Randle’s acting abilities in this production are second to none, his facial movements perfectly conveying how torn he is by his feelings for the three women in his life (his mother, his childhood sweetheart Micaëla and Carmen) his duty to the army and his ever increasing and eventually all-consuming jealously. Carmen is delightfully portrayed by Georgian born Nino Surguladze, who besides being a very attractive woman, completely embodies the spirit of Carmen. I particularly enjoyed how she played the character; yes she flirted when she needed to and often flouted the rules in the face of the law; and while she may have taunted José demanding that he leave on several occasions she also let through those subtle moments where you questioned the idea that Carmen was nothing but a ‘devil woman’ who cared about no one but herself. There were times where you could see that she too was hurting, and that at one point during their relationship she did indeed truly love José. Her cruelty often a mechanism of self-defence – she was a gypsy woman trying to survive and she had learnt how to use her charms when needed; but she also had a heart and craved what most humans do, companionship and love. Surguladze is to be highly commended for how brilliantly she handled the role.
The scene set inside Lilas Pastia’s Inn too was interestingly portrayed, with the opening scene displaying soldiers surrounding and taunting what looked to be a young girl who was being made to dance for them. Carmen, after coming to her rescue gathers her fellow gypsy women and leads them in a dance with the soldiers slowly lulling them into a false sense of security – herding them into a pack before the woman almost scare them to death by singing at the tops of their voices while using the soldier’s own jackets to ‘mock’ beat them, the soldiers looking confused and thoroughly unnerved. Once again subtle nods to the idea that the women as a whole are far stronger than the men give them credit for. It is also during this scene that we are properly introduced to the character of Escamillo the toreador (bullfighter) played by James Clayton whose delivery of the aria Votre Toast, Je peux vous le rendre (more commonly referred to as ‘The Toreador Song’) is wonderfully stirring and captures the pomp and ceremony of the sport of bullfighting.
Again Randle shone as he argues with Carmen, torn between his duty as a soldier and his love for the gypsy. This scene is also where we began to see the first tendrils of José’s jealously and possessiveness beginning to show. While some may say that Randle should have portrayed this in a louder more forthright way, I particularly enjoyed the fact that he played the character as if he was just ever so slightly keeping these emotions in check, a small part José battling with these overwhelming and ultimately what he knew were wrong emotions that threatened to take over at any moment.
The costuming tonight was an interesting choice, with mainly muted colours being used rather than the vibrancy of what you would expect of both Spanish locals and gypsies alike. Even when some of the more traditional outfits appeared (worn by Carmen and a few of her cohorts) they were comprised of deep reds and black. Even Escamillo, whose character is that of a bullfighter, is never once seen in the traditional toreador outfit – rather he spends most of the production in a black woollen suit, with heavy overcoat and hat. Yet his costume still managed to portray the fact that he was both a rich and powerful man – Clayton’s vocal and acting skills easily bringing the character to life.
Following a 20min interval, Act 3 begins with the cast slowly being illuminated at the back of the stage; this combined with their subtle movements forward and the lanterns being lit halfway through brilliantly gave the illusion that you were watching them slowly travel towards you from a great distance away. Special mention should be made at this point to of both Amelia Berry and Kristin Darragh playing Frasquita and Mercedes respectively whose acting and vocal performances were absolutely on point and again added yet another component to tonight’s performance especially during the third act as they foretold their futures with the cards. Pearson however utterly stole the third Act with her solo performance – her costume made of a floral print on a dark blue background alluding to how she was a character of both gentle innocence and genuine humility.
Towards the end of the third act Surguladze oozed defiance as she told José to leave, even after he began to get violent with her. The cards had told her already that she would die at the hands of this man, and while she may have been scared she would not submit and would die a free woman. At one point Surguladze – after being struck down by José before he his dragged away by Micaëla – lies on the floor of stage looking out at the audience. Her face again runs the full gamut of emotions and takes you right to the point that you begin to almost feel uncomfortable as she continues to fix you in her steely glare.
The final act sees the entire chorus (including the children) on stage as they celebrate the beginning of the bullfight. This scene was fantastically executed with the cast moving forward to the very edge of the stage and with the use of simple spot lighting and the cast performing in both real time and slow motion (with a couple of freeze frame scenes thrown in for good measure) they flawlessly captured the excitement and joy of such an esteemed event. This was easily the most visually stunning portion of the show and was extremely well done. As Carmen (who has now declared her love for Escamillo and has arrived with him dressed in black which once again while plain exudes the fact that she is now the lover of a more powerful man) is warned by both Frasquita and Mercedes that José is lurking nearby, the two stage pieces close in together creating an almost claustrophobic feeling as it traps both Carmen and José in the same space.
This final scene is seamlessly played out by Randle and Surguladze, the full gamut of emotions running across both of their faces as she defies his requests to leave with him. Shadows of the cheering crowd coming through the wall cleverly lead you to believe that José and Carmen are on the outside of the stadium. However the lighting for this last scene is just a tad harsh, the stark white lights reflecting against the off white set pieces which at times make it hard to concentrate on the characters, especially when Carmen hugs the wall. The scene ends as José pulls forth a gun and shoots Carmen in the head, her body sliding down the wall leaving a trail of blood (a nice touch) as she goes. José falls to the ground lamenting that he has killed his Carmen and the curtain falls. I found this ending slightly too abrupt and would have preferred to have seen it follow along the lines of other versions which sees José confess his crime to the crowd as they leave the bullfighting ring.
Overall this presentation of Carmen has a unique flavour to it and challenges us as a viewer to question our beliefs and perceptions of these traditional characters and not just settle for the idea that the men’s behaviour, especially that of José’s is all because of the wicked Carmen and her wily ways.
Were you there at the Opera for this magnificent show? Or have you seen Carmen performed somewhere else before? Tell us about it in the comments below!