William Adams, DMA
It is difficult to overstate the importance of Georges Bizet’s Carmen. Few operas so enduringly or completely capture the imagination while shining a spotlight on the darker and more complex aspects of the societies that create them. As our understanding of gender, sexual autonomy, and violence, especially male violence against women, has evolved, so too has our perception of Carmen and its message. There is an ever-growing need for artists able to further that evolution of thought and challenge us to face the difficult and often ugly issues it raises.
On October 16, North Carolina Opera mounted an intelligent and important production of Carmen directed by Denyce Graves. Ms. Graves is a bona fide legend in opera whose unparalleled career, praised for its artistry and beauty, has taken her all over the world singing the most legendary repertoire in equally legendary spaces. She has also established herself as an important advocate for equity and diversity. This history coupled with her long association with the role of Carmen give her interpretation its own unique authority. It is sure to also establish her as an important and powerful figure among directors of opera.
When Carmen premiered in 1875, it was not universally well received. In fact, it was considered somewhat scandalous at the time. Much of the discussion centered on criticism of the role of Carmen herself because she is presented as a woman who was not just independent but expressed her independence in direct defiance of traditional patriarchal societal norms. That she not only sought financial and personal independence but also expected and claimed her own sexual autonomy only added fuel to the criticisms. These criticisms went so far as to then view Don José as the ultimate victim of the opera, manipulated by the immoral Carmen. Over time, this perception evolved and Carmen has at times been seen as a femme fatale. Further evolution in the second half of the twentieth century has led to Carmen often being viewed through a feminist lens and the opera is seen as a powerful vehicle for discussion about not only female independence and equality but, more importantly, a forceful denouncement of male violence toward women.
One of the dangers in staging Carmen is the tendency to portray the women as little more than defiant symbols of female empowerment, contemptuously dismissing the men around them. The opposite approach would be no more satisfying. Reducing the men to drunken, lecherous buffoons whose only dramatic purpose is to demonstrate their own depravity equally diminishes the more relevant social discussions. Both choices would render a work whose power depends on the contradictions of its characters as a simplistic morality tale.
At the center of it all are the portrayals of Carmen and Don José. Carmen is calculating and sexually assertive. José is capable of tenderness and genuine longing and a capacity to love even as his insecurity and possessiveness consume him. Neither characterization requires us to confuse an understanding of their behavior with a justification for it.
Ms. Graves’ vision is nuanced and subtle. Carmen’s strengths are exactly that: facets of the personality of an intelligent, self-realized woman carving her way through a male-dominated society. José’s insecurities are presented as character flaws without apology and without an effort to use them to absolve him of his crimes. This is fully realized through two devices in particular. During the overture, we are treated to a scene showing José being defrocked and then having a military uniform thrown at him contemptuously. This is a direct reference to Prosper Mérimée’s novella from 1845 in which José is revealed to have sought the priesthood before killing a man in a brutal fight over a game of pelota. He abandons his religious studies and joins the military to escape prosecution. Establishing this as part of his character is an interesting choice. The opera’s original libretto by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy portrays José more simply and perhaps even somewhat naïvely making his ultimate downfall more sympathetic and tragic. Introducing this more violent element lessens any tendency toward sympathy for José but also establishes violence in his history which begins to explain his behavior toward Carmen, while obviously not justifying it. We are reminded of his history throughout the opera in the form of a large wooden crucifix José wears.
The second device is in the final scene where, in another departure from the original libretto but in step with some modern productions, José murders Carmen through strangulation rather than stabbing her. It is more intimate and decidedly more brutal; it takes longer and cannot be relegated to an impulsive crime of passion. It speaks to a deeper and more culturally systemic problem but also hearkens back to his history of violence. This powerful interpretation of the opera requires performers capable of meeting that challenge head on.
Gina Perregrino was everything Carmen needs to be. Her intelligence sparkled behind every expression. Her physicality ranged from boldly athletic to fluid and seductive. Her final scene was a tour de force of acting. She showed us a cold dismissal of José informed by a resignation to her fate with an unwillingness to yield. She’s even more impressive musically. Her voice is crystal clear from top to bottom and remarkably consistent with a lush, rich, warm timbre. She sings with exceptional control, every note in place and seemingly effortless. She realized the strength and nuance of Carmen’s character with impeccable precision and a breathtaking range of expression.
Eric Taylor, who NCO audiences saw recently as Pinkerton in Butterfly, brought the same impressive acting skills in developing a character for Don José that spins through a dizzying array of emotions. He commands José’s lust, insecurity, obsession, and murderous rage with a dramatic presence in every moment of every scene. His vocal command is just as impressive. In José’s weakest moments, Mr. Taylor allowed his voice to become almost wild with emotion. José’s sincerity shone through as a beautiful lyricism and tremendous dynamic control culminating in a lovely mixed register especially evident in his duet with Micaëla.
Laureano Quant sang Escamillo with the quiet bravado of a man who doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone. His portrayal of Escamillo as bold yet patient was a perfect antithesis to Don José’s insecurity and clinginess. Mr. Quant’s voice is rich and resonant and he made light work of Escamillo’s more athletic vocal moments. Elana Gleason sang Micaëla with amazing clarity and focus, both of tone and character. Some productions portray Micaëla as soft, in order to contrast Carmen. This production took a very different path. When she sang “nothing frightens me,” Ms. Gleason imbued her reading with a quiet grace informed by strength and bravery.
North Carolina Opera often boasts an embarrassment of riches in the quality of its supporting casts and this production was no exception. Gretchen Bruesehoff, as Frasquita, and Sarah Neal, as Mercédès were delightfully and intelligently funny but were also exceptionally clean and precise in their singing. Yazid Gray, as Le Dancaïre, and Scott Wichael, as Le Remendado, also brought a remarkable physical presence to their roles and sang with equal precision. The smuggler’s quintet in Act II, with Carmen, was a highlight for the production with impeccable diction and clarity. Mr. Gray did double duty in this production, also singing the role of Moralès. Along with Christian Simmons, as a booming Zuniga, they edged their tone with just the right amount of arrogance and a bit of lustful disdain for the townswomen.
The NC Opera Chorus was in rare form, as well, in one of its strongest presentations to date. Prepared by Chorus Master Jeanie Wozencraft-Ornellas, they sang with a rich and full sound that never lost its sense of ensemble but was full of individual character. Their dynamic control and precision were astonishing. Equally impressive was the children’s choir which sang remarkably cleanly and with tremendous joy and enthusiasm. The addition of two exquisite dancers, Marcelo Martinez (who also choreographed) and Megan Jones-Medford, brought Bizet’s orchestral interludes to life and highlighted the passion and the sensuality of the score.
This review could have started with a mention of the orchestra under the direction of Maestro Joseph Mechavich. “Patience” and “control” have been themes suggested several times in reference to the portrayals of the various singers. This started with an expertly crafted musical interpretation that was never overwrought or imposing. Indeed, the orchestra played with astounding control, always perfectly balanced with the singers.
The production design was modest and subdued with darker colors and strong shapes dominating the look. The set was designed by Steven Kemp and provided by the New Orleans Opera Association with costumes designed by Howard Tsvi Kaplan and provided by the Sarasota Opera Association. The production was expertly lit by Ross Kolman.
This outstanding production of Carmen is a high water mark for North Carolina Opera in a long line of artistic and meaningful productions.
