Not just another old Carmen
Carmen Royal Opera, Covent Garden ★★★★★
Having first encountered Beecham’s peerless recording in short trousers and reviewed more than 30 productions, I smugly considered myself pretty familiar with every note of Bizet’s Carmen – often ad nauseam, as it tends to be sloppily performed.
One great virtue of Barrie Kosky’s new staging, imported from Frankfurt, is that it has shaken my complacency – it is certainly different. But being different is not quite enough, and I felt increasingly dissatisfied as the evening progressed.
Things get off to a terrific start. The stage is filled with a wide, steep staircase, used to stunning effect as the chorus cascades down or hares up its steps. There is only minimal indication of anything Hispanic, and none at all of the gipsy or cigarette factory. Instead, the first act is played out like a Parisian floor show in which Carmen is the chic androgynous star, flanked by dazzling showbizzy dance routines.
There is much musical material, excised from the standard editions, that I hadn’t previously heard – notably another entrance aria for Carmen, a comic aria for Moralès, and a much longer duet for José and Micaela. Some of this is delightful, some better left in the library. The spoken dialogue is replaced by an offstage narration, using French text mostly drawn from the opera’s source in Mérimée’s novella. It’s electrically alive, fresh, witty, energised and provocative.
Gradually, however, as so often with Kosky’s work, the production loses steam: the first two acts last nearly two hours, and there is less new music to keep one alert. As Carmen capriciously changes her costume and identity and those high-kicking chorus lines (a Kosky trademark) become tedious, one begins to miss the sense of a specific social context or psychological reality. By the end, it’s become an elegantly clever exercise in Brechtian theatricality rather than an involving emotional drama.
Russian mezzo Anna Goryachova is a petite, edgy and dangerous Carmen, who tires vocally in the latter stages. As José, Francesco Meli is miscast – a robust Italian tenor over-egging a French confection. Kristina Mkhitaryan shrieks the climax of Micaela’s aria; Kostas Smoriginas makes a passable Escamillo.
There is wonderfully translucent orchestral playing, delicately conducted by Jakub Hrůša – the Act 3 Prelude is magically beautiful and the overall approach has tingling clarity and verve. The smugglers’ quintet is exemplary, and both the adult and children’s chorus are thrilling.
So on balance, it’s thumbs half up. Love it or hate it (love it and hate it, indeed, as I did), at least you can’t say that it’s just another old Carmen.
Until March 16. Tickets: 020 7304 4000; roh.org.uk