Foto: Maggio Musicale Fiorentino
Suzanne Daumann
Sometimes one should
remember that a successful opera representation is something like a miracle;
sometimes one should tune down one’s expectations, even when one is about to
see a mythical opera in a mythical venue. The new Carmen
production at the Teatro del Maggio Musicale in Florence has managed to make
the headlines all over the world, making use of the international movement
about violence against women. The cloud of gunsmoke after Carmen shoots Don
José hides the other aspects of the production, some nice choreographies, a few
good ideas not quite thought out, and a very shaky musical side. Stage director Leo
Muscato has set the action in a vague present time, where a gipsy camp has
taken the place of the tobacco factory, the square that sees all the people
pass by is the entrance of said camp, and modern soldiers in black jumpsuits,
armed with truncheons and fire arms, are guarding it. It is laudable to try and
underscore the situation of this ethnic minority that still suffers persecution
and exclusion all over Europe; the dramatic scene during the second part of the
overture, showing a violent police raid on such a camp, is quite successful in
this sense. During the rest of the opera, however, one finds oneself confronted
with the old old cliches of erotism and outlaws’ freedom, rightful heirlooms of
the 19th century. Carmen is the typical erotic fantasy of her time, seductive
and scary - a woman who wants freely to chose her companion, ready to stand for
her choices up to the end and be it death. A really free woman, that would not
do at the time, and so she had to die, just like Violetta Valery, like Mimi or
Manon. It is recommendable, of course, to want to go beyond this doctrine of
fear and submission - but making Carmen a killer, is this really giving her her
freedom? It might have been more coherent to end the love story of Carmen and
Don José at the end of Act II, when they are already on the point of breaking
up.In short, all this is
quite confusing. Bravo, Alessandro
Verazzi, for the lights and Margherita Baldoni for the costumes, that
contribute a lot to making the staging more readable. The musical aspects as
well were a bit unbalanced. Conductor Ryan McAdams had a lot of drive, making
the finely chiseled parts of the score to shine and giving sensuality to
Carmen’s dances. His enthusiasm led him to drown out the singers sometimes, who
had a somewhat hard time of it already.
Marina Comparato in the role of Carmen was
sensuous of voice and of movement, and Valeria Sepe’s Micaëla, albeit somewhat
brittle of voice, was an effective counterpart. Sergio Escobar as Don
José was less convincing. He sang quite well, but something was lacking, energy, or charisma, or experience. As to Burak Bilgili, he
would have done better to stay at home and take care of his voice instead of
trying to play Escamillo, since it was obvious that he was not well. One had to
wonder how he was even allowed to sing, and if it was the presence of a sick
colleague that held the rest of the cast back somewhat, so that on the whole
the performance seemed to advance with set handbrakes. A mixed bag of goodies,
this evening, leaving us to wonder and ponder, and to contemplate the absence
of miracles.
