Holy Smoke: It's Carmen!

PORTopera opened its new production of Bizet's time-honored Carmen in a modest, but effective production, the emphasis appropriately placed where it should be; on music, and drama. I always cringe a a little when a company chooses the Guiraud version instead of Bizet's original, feeling it robs a good deal of the bite and spice the dialogue can add. That being said, most of the music making was strong. Maestro Stephen Lord started things off with a briskly paced overture setting the tone for all that followed. There were a few moments of loss of coordination between stage and pit, most notably the middle of the Smugglers quintet, which found its way back on track and finished with sizzle. Lord is a singers' conductor who strikes the right balance between singers and band, never overpowering, but letting the big orchestral moments pop. In this regard, he's also an audiences' conductor, and that's always a good thing.

Judy Gailen's unit set of a large, curved stucco wall served for all four acts with slight variances (dangerous steps, an enormous table for Carmen to dance and seduce Don Jose on at Lillas Pastia, etc.) for each.

Dona D. Vaughn led a generally excellent cast, starting with the leading lady, Israeli mezzo soprano, Maya Lahyani. With striking good looks, physique and a physical force Lahyani's a natural Carmen, comfortable with her body and unafraid to use it to seduce, or as a weapon. The voice is rich, with an old-fashioned lushness that projected throughout the house beautifully. Wonderful in her early arias and the first two acts' lighter moments, Lahyani truly came into her own in the card scene, reaching into the story's darker side and taking us along Carmen's grizzly ride to Doomsville.

Adam Diegel took a bit of warming up, but earned the first real ovation of the night with the Flower aria, the sweetness of his voice blooming beautifully for the finish. He was at his best in Jose's deadly showdown with his ex where things got good and ugly. He's an agile singer and moved like a dancer, though at other times stiff, which is not, I suppose, against character. One got a small sense of this character's dangerous, but not all (Carmen isn't his first kill). He and Lahyani were appropriately passionate, right up until, well, you know.

Conversely, I was not quite convinced by Edward Parks' turn as Escamillo, With a rich, beautiful mid range, upper notes widened a bit, while the lowest notes (particularly in the Toreador aria) nearly disappeared. His third act appearance reminded me more of Ross Martin's Artemus Gordon from The Wild, Wild West, than a dangerous bullfighter. In the final act he became the victim of an unfortunate costuming decision.

Amanda Woodbury took on, Micaëla, the only decent person in sordid story, and did so marvelously, nowhere more so than in her Act Three aria that, when beautifully sung (as it frequently is, since its Micaëla's only big moment) steals the show. It happened again last night.

Comprimario roles were, to a one, as good as it gets, and the choruses, both children and adult, were magnificent. Once again, When it comes to crowd scenes, Ms. Vaughn once again shows her had as one of the best in the business. Her endless, silhouetted parade of gypsies climbing the mountain pass, then down steep, dangerous steps was stage magic. Vaughn did away with the parade at the bull ring, while the choristers made me believe (vividly) they were seeing it, so much so that I occasionally looked across the balcony expecting to see an army of banderilleros, picadors and matadors. Nice touch.

Getting older, and a touch jaded, I sometimes resist attending operas I've seen countless times, but when I give in, I'm reminded why I fell in love with them in the first place, and so it was this evening. I wasn't alone, the audience, young and old, loved it, and a friend, attending his first opera, can't wait to start going to more. Carmen can do that.

(Photo Credit: John Ewing for mainetoday.com)

Killing Carmen: Thoughts on a Classic

I’m lucky. It has never been a requirement of mine that I like, or even particularly admire, anyone in order to find them fascinating enough to want to watch or read about them. This is as true of fictional characters as it is of historical, or even currently alive persons.

I think somehow many of us feel “guilty” for watching things like Carmen because we’re preoccupying ourselves with a central character possessing so little, if anything, perceived as redeemable. And yet Carmen remains an eternally interesting character, and, as with many other colorful criminals or outcasts of society, we become fascinated . . . mesmerized even . . . by the way they work in lives vastly different than our own.
As with any stage creature, Carmen opens herself to a wide variety of interpretations, and while many view her as being an archetypal character (in the Jungian sense), I don’t think she is. Not at all, in fact.  I believe in Carmen less as a symbol, and more as genuinely, deeply flawed character who lives out her days according to her own set of principles: the rest of the world be damned. While she may come across as over-the-top, nothing she does, according is ever really too much - or enough so as to make her the comically unbelievable character many choose to see her as. Still, all of the symbolsim we typically associate with the archetype of such a character can actually add to our enjoyment, even when we don't fully grasp it, or disagree with one another as to what it all means.

When first we meet our Carmencita, she’s working at the cigarette factory, and we like her.  We like her mostly because she's colorful, and likes to sing and dance a lot. But, ah, she also likes to fight. She's what some might call a spicy lady.  While she may seem like a fun girl who just gets into the occasional bit of trouble, the fact of the matter is this:  from the outset, Carmen is a criminal.  

The most famous number in the opera, the Habanera, is  simply Carmen taking in the lay of the land, scoping out a possible escape from the trouble she's already planned on getting into. She can't help herself.  As she sings and mesmerizes the crowd, she identifies José as someone she can use; a man to trick - to manipulate into doing whatever it is she needs him to do. She senses through instinct or her powers of observation he will likely do her bidding, possibly most willingly.  Does she sense his weakness? His criminal past? Ever shrewdly attuned to all that is around her, Carmen senses this from the very beginning.  It's not too far a stretch for us to believe she'd initiate a factory fight to achieve this end, and so it becomes a preliminary exercise: use her seduction of José  to gain his assistance for her subsequent escape - an escape from a situation of her own creation. It's all part of her game, and quite possibly a test to see how strongly her hold will be on this deeply troubled man, who himself is using the military as an escape from his own criminal past.

I'm convinced Carmen always looks ahead to her future - and always foresees trouble. Of course she does - it's all she knows.

I've never bought into Carmen being as carefree as she pretends to be, or is always singing about. There are reasons she consults and holds stock in the tarot: she is bound by fate, and ever aware of this. Those who believe in the romance between José and Carmen are buying into something that just isn’t there and thus, not unlike  José, have been seduced by something not entirely attainable.

Like many criminals Carmen appears to be an adrenaline junky, always obsessively moving on to the next bigger thing; bigger risks and bigger highs to feed and satisfy that addiction. The adrenaline rush which comes from criminal activity can certainly be experienced by other means, for example, extreme athletics, risk-taking activities such as cliff diving, or parachuting and, of course, sex.  Adrenaline junkies are forever looking for that next, bigger rush, so ever push themselves further and further, often to the point of their demise, which is of course, the ultimate rush.  I hold this is precisely what happens to Bizet's anti-heroine. You may disagree.

I believe Carmen’s attraction to Escamillo is, however entirely different.  It is instant because here, for lack of a better word, is an Übermensch - a man who, advantaged through superior intelligence and artificial weaponry - plays a game involving a fight-to-the-death of another physically powerful animal – a male from another species - a bull.  Escamillo is a creature who, like Carmen, appears to have no natural fear of death, he challenges it . and (so far) always wins. In this regard, as exciting as it sounds, winning the bullfight would seem to be only the penultimate orgasmic experience, the ultimate rush achieved only through death itself.

Carmen's actions, like self-orchestratng her orgasme final are not unlike Escamillo's. Her bull is Don José,and she has selected this bull as her executioner. 

Like many criminals Carmen appears to be an adrenaline junky, always obsessively moving on to the next bigger thing; bigger risks and bigger highs to feed and satisfy that addiction. The adrenaline rush which comes from criminal activity can certainly be experienced by other means, for example, extreme athletics, risk-taking activities such as cliff diving, or parachuting and, of course, sex.  Adrenaline junkies are forever looking for that next, bigger rush, so ever push themselves further and further, often to the point of their demise, which is of course, the ultimate rush.  I hold this is precisely what happens to Bizet's anti-heroine. You may disagree.

I believe Carmen’s attraction to Escamillo is, however entirely different.  It is instant because here, for lack of a better word, is an Übermensch - a man who, advantaged through superior intelligence and artificial weaponry - plays a game involving a fight-to-the-death of another physically powerful animal – a male from another species - a bull.  Escamillo is a creature who, like Carmen, appears to have no natural fear of death, he challenges it . and (so far) always wins. In this regard, as exciting as it sounds, winning the bullfight would seem to be only the penultimate orgasmic experience, the ultimate rush achieved only through death itself.

 Carmen's actions her self-orchestrateing her orgasme final are not at all unlike Escamillo's. Her bull is Don José,and she has selected this man as her executioner. 

Like many criminals Carmen appears to be an adrenaline junky, always obsessively moving on to the next bigger thing;  bigger risks and bigger highs to feed and satisfy that addiction. The adrenaline rush which comes from criminal activity can certainly be experienced by other means, for example, extreme athletics, risk-taking activities such as cliff diving, or parachuting and, of course, sex.  Adrenaline junkies are forever looking for that next, bigger rush, so ever push themselves further and further, often to the point of their demise, which is of course, the ultimate rush.  I hold this is precisely what happens to Bizet's anti-heroine. You may disagree.

I believe Carmen’s attraction to Escamillo is, however entirely different.  It is instant because here, for lack of a better word, is an Übermensch - a man who, advantaged through superior intelligence and artificial weaponry - plays a game involving a fight-to-the-death of another physically powerful animal – a male from another species - a bull.  Escamillo is a creature who, like Carmen, appears to have no natural fear of death, he challenges it . and (so far) always wins. In this regard, as exciting as it sounds, winning the bullfight would seem to be only the penultimate orgasmic experience, the ultimate rush achieved only through death itself.

 Carmen's actions her self-orchestrateing her orgasme final are not at all unlike Escamillo's. Her bull is Don José,and she has selected this man as her executioner. Taunting and humiliating him, she increases the element of danger and violence to the point where, physically and psychologically, they arrive at a blistering point of no return.  There is nothing left for her to do other than that which she set out to, very likely from the start.  

Until recently, Don José, more often than not, came off as a bit of a loser in a messy romantic entanglement, a "good boy led astray by the evil, witchy woman." The truth, however, is  José is bad news from the get go.  A violent, ill-tempered murderer who killed before the opera begins, and ends the evening by killing again.  "But oh, the Flower Song . . .how could anyone evil sing one of the most beautiful arias in opera?" Right.

José and Carmen should feel like a bad habit for each other as we witness his true violent nature revealing itself little-by-little, until his full, mad fury is unleashed in the opera's final moments.

That Carmen often uses sex to get everything she “wants” is, at minimum, symbolically interesting, not to mention more than just a bit disturbing. One needs only consider how her demise is achieved: (a) the violent plunging of a dagger into her; and (b) outside of the bull fighting arena.

Carmen never asks to be liked, but, like a beautiful, poisonous spider, she lures us into her web, making us think she may have something pretty to offer. She doesn’t. That appearance, much like the music Bizet gives her, is all façade. What she really offers is a bloody, violent, unromantic, and ultimately irredeemable, look into our own baser nature which, while perhaps not pretty, is endlessly fascinating.

 (Photos: Kate Aldrich as Carmen/Jonas Kaufmann and Richard Troxell as  José).

Carmen: von Otter's Raw, Visceral Take

I'll admit to huge reservations about one of my favorite mezzo's taking this role I never felt would be right for her, but Anne Sofie von Otter is the Carmen of one's dreams - or nightmares. A more gutter wenchy, ballbusting, shrewish, trash talking, vulgar Carmen I've never seen. To the critics who last summer asked "what man would ever want a woman like that?" all I can say is von Otter is so overtly sexual and raw that she makes Carmen something she has not been for me for a very long time - dangerously fascinating. This is not like any Carmen's I've seen the last last 20 years, coming more closely to Peter Brooks "Tragedie" - even outdoing it.

This Carmen is also one of the very best ensemble acted operas I've seen in ages and after one viewing is ready to be placed at the top of my DVD list.

To be sure, this will not be a Carmen to everyone's liking; it's rude, crude, violent, and emotionally dark - with an almost Dickensian quality that sends it and all its characters across the screen with a voltage that positively burns.

David McVicar's production was described as "exhilirating" and that is almost an understatement. This Carmen includes more dialogue than I ever recall hearing, making far more sense of the entire story and integrating every aspect into a taut, cohesive melodrama that I felt I was watching Carmen for the very first time.

Marcus Haddock fares far better as Jose than he did in the recent Met "Fausts" showing what, with real rehearsal time, good direction and collaboration he is capable of. It's not a voice that many would describe as beautiful, but he uses it with passion, attention to detail, text, and some exquisite shading (most notably in Jose's "Flower Song.")

This Jose and Carmen are like a bad habit for each other and Haddock reveals Jose's true violent streak letting it come out early on. The Act II fight between he and Zuniga may be the first time I literally worried someone would actually get hurt, and Zuniga getting up with blood coming out of his mouth had me, even for just a second, wondering if it was real! Haddock's later tangles with Escamillo and Carmen nearly get out of hand.

Even after he settles down to leave with Michaela, it's obvious this Jose has been pushed right over the edge and as they leave Michaela (portrayed nicely by the wonderfully fruity-voiced Lisa Milne) looks like she believes she may not make it home alive with this criminal. Frightening!


von Otter's Carmen really is so over-the-top that it nearly defies description. She smokes cigars (like a fiend) - even sings (or hums) part of the Habanera with one clenched in her teeth. Her entrance is fantastic; running down a flight of steps, hitting a fountain and washing up then plunging her head into the water to cool off. Everything she does is charged with a raw, sexual energy that is the complete obverse of refinement. Musically, she can, however, be quite refined, with amazing French and a bizarre ability to be both elegant and rude simultaneously. Her actions are never less than stunning, the way she devours an orange (biting one section out of Jose's mouth!) while singing or speaking, the smashing of a plate for her castanets, which she later tosses aside to play the rhythm on her thighs, breasts, Jose's legs, etc., all are eye popping. She's got a thousand different faces reacting to everything with . . . when Michaela shows up to rescue Jose in Act III and sings tenderly, von Otter looks like she's seeing someone from another planet, so foreign is Michaela's world from hers. Later in that same scene when her face registers, for the first time, fear, at Jose's madness, it is the stuff that chills one to the core. The characterization work she does extends far, far beyond her hip swinging, crotch grabbing obviousness - there is someone tortured in this Carmen who cries out she wants nothing more than to live "free" as she does - but she seems imprisoned in every way and her wildness almost seem like acts of desperate escapism gone wild. It is an amazing performance.


The DVD comes with some great features, photo galleries, biographies, a detailed narrated synopsis of each act with tons of production photos. Unlike most opera videos filmed over several (or more) performances, this is from one night at Glyndebourne August 17 2002 and has the energy that can only be found in a live performance. (How great that the producers saw fit to release this only months after it was taped!) I won't go overboard in describing every detail (for a change!), as I feel this really needs to be seen and I hope my obvious enthusiasm is helpful in getting folk out there to buy this thing and show the companies that we want more of this . . . lots mor

T'was the Night Before New Year's

And once again, with great apologies to Clement Clarke Moore!)

T’was the night before New Year’s and all through the Met
Garanca was smoking (I mean sans cigarette!)
The boo-birds were readying for opening night,
All dripping with malice – all spry for a fight.
While just hours before, there had been a debut
Dave Pomeroy sang Hoffmann (and pretty well, too!)
Some pronounced the voice “small” . . . others, “vin ordinaire”
Others yawned “he’s not Gedda, why the hell should I care?”

“I miss the old days” seemed the theme of the season
“We had real stars back then,” was the most proffered reason.
“We’d Tebaldi and Milanov and Schipa and Jussi
We had bassos like Pinza, so just keep your Pertusi!”
Others fought back, “they’re dead now, a new day has dawned!”
But the old guard dismissed them and collectively yawned,
“Oh yes, now there’s Handel and di capos galore”
So much quicker than Ambien, do you mind if I snore?”

So, this year we had Tosca, all stripped down and edgy,
Some praised it as “boffo” some yelled “goddamned reggie!”
They clamored for Franco, they demanded “tradition!”
They made it quite clear, “the old way’s our mission.”

Then the Janacek came and the ticket sales ceased
“Why the hell would they do such a depressing piece?
His music’s all spiky, all self-reverential
And with no tunes, why it’s all so damned inconsequential!”
“There’s no plot” - “There’s no story”- “there’s no love scenes” they cried
(And without intermission their bladders were fried!)

So they waited for Hoffmann, they waited so long,
While others complained “the acts’ orders all wrong!”
They wanted the trio, Antonia and such
They wanted it badly, they wanted it much
Then came coughs, cold and fevers as replacements came
(Though Held and Netrebko held fast to their game)
And while Bartlett’s production got mix-ed reviews
The show’s been a hit (so what else is news?)

Still they turned on the Gelb – a great list of complaints
(Turning men like Joe Volpe and Bing into saints)
“Why he’s ruining the Met and he’s killing tradition,
With his operas ‘bout Gandhi and . . . nuclear fission
We want things with nice tunes, we want sets that are pretty!
Not these dirges in darkness all dirty and gritty,
Bring back halcyon days of Nate Merrill and O’Hearn,
For this surely is what TRUE opera lovers yearn,

So, tonight we get Carmen, that hot Spanish wench,
Performed by a Latvian singing in French,
And we’ll see what distinction is brought by Brit, Eyre
(Who made Billy Crudup a hot dame with flair!)
But remember, what matters here most is the story
And of course, Bizet’s score – which is covered in glory . . .

So in honor of opera from Berg to Bellini
Let us bury all hatchets, let’s all raise a martini
(or a glass of champagne or of cider or beer)
And with opera all welcome a Happy New Year!

Happy New Year Everbody!