Coliseum
(sung in English)
Carmen – Justina Gringyte
Don José – Eric Cutler
Escamillo – Leigh Melrose
Micaëla – Eleanor Dennis
Zuniga – Graeme Danby
Moralès – George Humphreys
Frasquita – Rhian Lois
Mercédès – Claire Presland
Dancairo – Geoffrey Dolton
Remendado – Alan Rhys-Jenkins
Lillas Pastia – Toussaint
Meghie
Girl – Sophia Elton
Calixto Bieito (director)
Joan Antonio Recchi (revival
director)
Alfons Flores (set designs)
Mercè Paloma (costumes)
Bruno Poet (lighting)
When I saw this production
open in 2012, I opened by writing, ‘A triumph for ENO! I suspected that Carmen would prove eminently suited to
Calixto Bieito’s talents, and so it proved. Shorn of any ‘picturesque’
pandering – remember Francesco
Zambello and her donkey? – what we saw here is perfectly attuned to Bizet’s
resolutely unsentimental score.’ And so it still very much seems, under the
able revival direction of Bieito’s then assistant, Joan Anton Rechi. The
updating to the tawdry end of the vicious Franco regime continues to resonate;
violence is in the air and more than in the air. At any point, it can and will
claim its victims, many of whom we see on display here. We too live in a
militarised society, although one that remains slightly more bashful about
proclaiming itself to be such; we can draw parallels without their in any sense
being forced upon us. We certainly know poverty, racism, misogyny, and the
other forces we see depicted on stage; we also know, increasingly well, child
abuse – and the figure of the small girl, both loved and abandoned by her
mother, looks to an uncertain future most likely to be cyclical, or worse.
But above all, Bieito’s
mastery of his craft as director and storyteller comes through. Characters who
can sometimes seem romanticised, caricatured, even one-dimensional are more
complex than we generally see. Carmen stands out less than is often the case;
her vulnerability is as much social as personal, and all the more credible for
that placing. Likewise Micaëla’s greater capacity for agency, her deviousness –
no mere ‘angel’ on this occasion – make her a far more interesting character.
Has she even invented the story about Don José’s mother? She certainly
expresses triumph upon prizing him away from Carmen, harking back to the first
scene in which she cannot prevent herself from kissing him – and clearly feels
no shame in having done so. ‘Franco or his successors?’ I asked last time. ‘Is
there that much of a difference, especially under the present regime?’ We may
make substitutions across history, across the world, whilst at the same time
remaining plausible specificity, indeed ruthless realism.
Ryan Wigglesworth conducted an
excellent account last time; I am not sure that Sir Richard Armstrong was not
finer still. Each act had its own colour, its own pace, but the ineluctable
calling of Fate drove, in the best sense, the action forward. The ENO Orchestra
was on top form, its woodwind solos full of character, fresh and subtle as a
fine manzanilla. The strings dazzled in as impressive an orchestral performance
as I have heard in the Coliseum all year. Likewise, the chorus, of which the
director asks a great deal, was its typical excellent self. These were
individuals but they were also a threatening and threatened mass.
Justina Gringyte was somewhat
more aloof than Ruxandra Donose, but equally convincing as a character.
Hauteur, relatively speaking, worked well here, and she could certainly turn on
the charm when required. Her lines were clean, and her slightly accented
English equally clear. Don José is a difficult role; in the beginning, Eric
Cutler seemed a little too generalised, too lacking in charisma. However, he
seemed, especially in the context of a strong company, to grow into the role.
Leigh Melrose’s reprise of Escamillo offered an uncommonly subtle reading, in
which the relationship between vulnerability and machismo – ever a ‘Spanish’
theme, even for a Frenchman such as Bizet – was intriguingly explored. Eleanor
Dennis’s revisionist Micäela did not lack for sweetness of tone, especially
during her third-act aria. Rhian Lois and Clare Presland offered vividly
characterised readings of Frasquita and Mercédès. Special mention should be
offered to Sophia Elton as that frightened, yet strong, little girl.
Those who have yet to see
Bieito’s Carmen should hasten to the
Coliseum; those who have done so before will need no encouragement from me. Let
us hope, as I concluded in 2012, for more Bieito from ENO – and, indeed, for
the Royal Opera to enlist his services too. The former enfant terrible is now widely recognised as one of the most
thoughtful, provocative opera directors at work today; we need to see more of
him in London. More from Armstrong would be no bad thing too.
