Opera . . . it’s what they did in the old days before we invented marriage guidance counselling. At least that’s the impression I got from going to see Opera North’s Carmen at The Grand last week. Right from the start there’s some pretty reprehensible behaviour. A young girl, Micaela, 17 and innocent, comes on stage looking for Don Jose, a corporal in the local guard. She’s groped rather grossly by a bunch of soldiers and subjected to lewd and lascivious innuendos. The soldiers invite her into their quarters where they promise to treat her with “all the respect she deserves!” . . . it’s not hard to fathom what they are after. These days that sort of disgusting behaviour would be a disciplinary affair. The sexist squaddies would be required to attend emotional intelligence reeducation workshops at the very least.
Next there’s a song about the pleasures of smoking. Well, actually it’s paean to puffing, to flirting with fags, teasing with tobacco, seducing with cigarettes. Isn’t there a government health warning about this sort of thing, and something about legal, decent and honest?
Then there’s Carmen herself . . . not exactly a role model for today’s youth is she! She sings a song about how love is above the law, beyond morality and outside the general good sense of the the general run of humanity, the mass of monogamous, hard working, family oriented common people. Bohemian she calls it, but it’s a bestial and unbalanced view of the apex of Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs. It doesn’t come as a surprise when she gets into a knife fight with a female colleague at the cigarette factory. Carmen taunts her co-worker with a ribald joke about a donkey and a broomstick (my French is rudimentary but even I blushed!) before yanking her hair and punching her to the ground, scarring her for life. I’ve seen that sort of behaviour on my local council estate. It isn’t pretty. Carmen is absolute Asbo material.
She uses her brash and well practised sexual allure to charm the gullible corporal Don Jose into assisting her to escape justice then teases him with a song about visiting a brothel – a place she seems more than familiar with – where she will get drunk on the local tipple, dance suggestively, and advertise her availability to any man who happens to “arrive at the right time.” After Don Jose has served his time in jail – and been stripped of his corporal status to boot – all Carmen can think of to pay her debt to him is the inevitable sexually charged dance, and she gets into a right old tiz when Don Jose interrupts her and makes to go back to his unit. Duty calls. She rants and raves, behaving like a petulant toddler, tormenting and demeaning the poor chap with insults questioning his manhood, calling him a canary, goading him to retreat. Gormless Jose begs her to shut up but he’s totally ineffectual. After enduring a torrent of verbal abuse he bursts into song about a flower Carmen gave him before he got banged up . . . it appears he kept the flower and has been mooning and moping about Carmen ever since. Evidently he suffers from an advanced attachment disorder – and some deep seated unresolved maternal issues, but best not attempt to disentangle that knotty quandary right now. Carmen isn’t satisfied with the rather pitiful display of sentiment and provokes a fight with Zuniga, his sergeant, manipulating Don Jose into absconding from the army and living the life of an outlaw, just to fulfill her silly adolescent fantasy of “liberte!”
Don Jose has very flimsy psychological barriers and quickly gets dependent on Carmen. This is not an attractive quality in any adult. Carmen soon gets annoyed with him being such a tiresome twerp. He’s easily manipulated by Micaela’s tale of the heartbroken, dying mother and he to goes back to his home village to ask for forgiveness – quite what he’s done to merit penitence is puzzling as the guy seems incapable of independent thought let alone deliberate meanness, he’s the sort who’d be mortified if he got caught bumping school, a total pudding! Carmen uses the opportunity to dump him and immediately takes up with a testosterone tanked toreador, Escamilio, a man who makes a living bullying livestock. He’s not bright, not sensitive, and frankly he’s a bit of an egomaniac, but he looks fabulous without a shirt on and she’s smitten. When Don Jose gets back from his mission to make peace with mummy he makes a pitiable attempt to get Carmen to dump the hunk. His argument is futile and threatening; go out with me or I’ll do something terrible! He clearly doesn’t get the concept of closure. Carmen, being a complete drama queen and attention seeking diva, refuses even to talk about any unresolved feelings or work through the five stages of grief accompanying a terminated relationship. They both “act out” their problems as the experts say and it all ends in a nasty mess. Carmen throws a ring at Don Jose. Don Jose stabs Carmen . . . and all because qualified psychological intervention was unavailable . . .
. . . Of course, I’m just being silly. The lovely people at Opera North said we would love or hate Carmen, but we couldn’t be indifferent. And that’s true. I’d love to be able to write a proper review that does justice to this production, write authoritatively on the direction, have an informed opinion about the quality of the singing and the magic of the musical performance . . . and one day I may be able to. But right now I still don’t know how to talk about opera other than, “it was great!” or “I really enjoyed it.” I’ve read a few professional reviews (hell, opera buffs are a snippish, critical lot! I could never be that mean spirited) and confess it’ll be ages before I hear and see what those people clearly experience. Until then I’ll just keep puzzling and pondering, mostly being entertained, often bemused, occasionally appalled, but trying to get it . . . And I’m not the only one. It was a fabulous experience to go to the opera with a bunch of bloggers – a kind of solidarity of the bewildered – courtesy of Emma from @culturevultures, and be treated to a behind the scenes tour and a chat with a couple of the cast, as well as copious quantities of corporate hospitality. It’s great not to feel obliged to say nice things, genuinely encouraged to give an honest response, but saying anything relevant and sensible is quite tricky, and I’m not sure I’m the right person for that . . . so I’ll give the last word to another blogger, Alexandra, @sewhipfolkie on Twitter, who asked me to post this for her. Something she knocked up in a tea break, amid the hecticness . . .
Think Carmen, think maracas and frilly flouncing? I did. I’ve never been to an opera before, but I thought I would know what to expect from Carmen. However, this is a ‘modern’ version, so nothing was particularly as you would anticipate. It was bright & colourful, energetic, & even at times laugh aloud funny.
I loved the idea of trailer park Mid-West setting, but sadly, it was the time setting of this that didn’t quite work. One minute it was 1980s Michael Jackson moves, then 1960s American movies kitsch version of cheerleaders, & then back-woods 1950s. If they had captured one set period accurately, & got the atmosphere spot on, I think this may have been the awesome production it was aspiring to be. Instead, I felt it was a bit disjointed & confused which distracted me. However, I think my inability to feel particularly moved by the production is purely down to irritating, unsympathetic characters. I’m probably an emotional philistine, but I wanted tell various characters to ‘get over themselves’.
I suppose our greatest fear of opera is being bored stiff & falling asleep, or feeling that this isn’t for the likes of us, we shouldn’t really be here. I’m happy to say, I didn’t feel like that at all. The audience was mixed, nothing about it felt elitist, & I mostly understood everything (to those audience who took a while to realise they were there, I can confirm subtitle screens helped). For me, brought up on 1950s musicals, & loving a bit of a narrative then bursting into song & dance routine, this production reminded me of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Carousel. I just wish I knew French so I could also sing along!