Paris en fête : How to make classical music fun !

How to make classical music fun without dumbing down! Paris en fête,with François-Xavier Roth conducting Les Siècles at the Philharmonie de Paris this week, broadcast live HERE.  Proof that "education" without genuine excellence is counter-productive. This should be compulsory viewing for bureaucrats and audiences who think culture must be forced down grimly like it were poison. Please read my article End the Missionary Position in Classical Music !  This concert was so good that I've listened several times over; presumably many in the audience want more, too.  Roth is a wonderful communicator, whose enthusiasm inspires because he believes in what he does: he doesn't play games and doesn't ever dumb down.

Carmen, first. But "Who is Carmen?"  asks Antoine Pecqeuer,  another born communicator who doesn't need hype to do what he does. Carmen is popular the world over because she's a personality. Carmen lives forever: self centred Don Josés will never understand.  Thus the essence of what opera should be: human emotions in universal, infinite variety. Which is why small minds do get art.  As Pecqeuer reminded us, Carmen bombed at its premiere because it was ahead of its time. Isabelle Druet talks about Carmen so unaffectedly that the Habanera seems an extension of the personality.  Part of the fun, too, is that the Choeur des Grand Ecoles is bigger than you'd ever get on an opera stage. 

Bizet, Saint-Saëns, Délibes, Berlioz, Offenbach, a programme of pieces familiar to French audience  but with a twist to show that French repertoire is not parochial - the Bachannale from Samson et Delila. Pecqeuer talks about French tradition, from Lully to Boulez, and Roth expands. Dance is the foundation for rhythm,  structure and inventiveness. Thus, Un bal from the Symphonie fantastique.   From Berlioz, instrumental experiments and sophisticated colour.  "What does Paris mean to you?", Pecqeuer asks the audience, many of whom are young children. "Le pain" says one, totally matter of fact.  Then, the overture from La vie Parisienne, and the Infernal Gallop from Orphée aux Enfers. By now the audience are really getting into the spirit.  The Infernal Gallop, "the can can", yet again, this time with the audience singing along, Roth speeding up the tempi. Everyone's exhilarated, high on the thrill.  Is classical music elitist or dull?  No way!  Those at this concert will come away feeling that music is a vital part of life.   

Tarzan with genius soundtrack Les Pêcheurs de Perles rare film

Georges Bizet Les Pêcheurs de Perles - a rare film version made for French TV in 1960.  Pearlfishers is notoriously difficult to stage because it's fantasy so exotic that it's hard to capture in believable visual images. Although it's supposedly set in Ceylon, the music (and indeed the plot) bears no resemblance to anything but French grand opera, so it needs to be taken with an imaginative  sense of unreality. Is it ideal, then, for film, which isn't constrained by the physical limits of staging?   Then, perhaps, we could enjoy the faux orientalisme done with the excess the music suggests.

Perhaps that's why Airs de France, a division of RFT (Radio Lyrique) attempted this Les Pêcheurs de Perles. It was filmed like a movie, so the cameras reach angles that couldn't be done in normal opera. There are luscious effects - real palm trees and greenery, realistic-looking mountain boulders for the cast to scramble on. A temple that looks ike a glorious  hybrid of Angkor Wat, South India and 19th century French architecture. Much more naked flesh on the natives than in the photo above, from an early stage production. The  overall effect is Hollywood extravaganza. Think Tarzan movies, with a better than average soundtrack. 

Unfortunately the technology wasn't as advanced as the concept. The cameras don't really cope with movement, which rather spoils the best moments, since the crowd scenes are well choreographed.  The principals stand around like they were made of wood, though their performances, while good, aren't really special enough to electrify proceedings. Lots of shots are out of focus and black and white film doesn't help. This is an opera that begs to be filmed in Technicolor, with  special effects! (remember the scene in the ENO Pearl Fishers where figures were seen "swimming"  suspended in the air spotlit in glorious greens and blues  That was the sort of magic Pearl Fishers can inspire.  Sadly, this film doesn't quite live up to its potential. When the village is torched  the flames are clearly faked, with sparks of diagonal light flashing with the leaden regularity of a malfunctioning bar heater.

Cast  : Léna Pastor - Leila, Michel Cadiou - Nadir, André Jonquères - Zurga, Charles Daguerressar - Nourabad., Chorus & Orchestra of the RTF Radio Lyrique conducted by Georges Derveaux

Bizet Les pêcheurs de perles Theater an der Wien

Bizet Les pêcheurs de perles opened last week at the Theatre an der Wien.  It was broadcast on ORF so if you're canny, you can track it down. It's definitely worth the effort, and could become  a favourite.  Diana Damrau sings Leila. She's exquisite. She rises to the challenge of the high notes with fierce, bright singing - exactly as one imagines the fearless Leila might do. The richness in Damrau's voice also adds an earthy sensuality to the part. She's matched by Dimitri Korchak (Nadir), Nathan Gunn (Zurga) and Nicolas Testé (Nourabad). All very strong performances, supported by the Arnold Schoenberg Choir (Erwin Ortner). Jean-Christophe Spinosi conducts the ORF Radio-Symphonieorchester Wien.

Les pêcheurs de perles is extravagant fantasy. Audiences in Bizet's time would have no truck with the modern nonsense that opera must be historically accurate. Musically, this is 100% French Grand Opera with all its over the top excess. The singing is glorious, and, if the orchestra is a little on the  wild side, that's quite in order. I haven't seen the production yet (Lotte de Beer) but the Austrian press says it treats the protagonists like they're in a TV gameshow. Which, in a way, maybe they are? Nadir  and Zurga compete for the pretty girl, and the passive audience of peasants enjoy the glitz and glam, unaware that the joke will be on them when Zurga torches the village.

Calixto Bieito Carmen, ENO

Everyone knows Carmen, or thinks that they do, which is not always the same thing.  Carmen smokes and sleeps with whom she wants, and cannot be constrained unless she wants to be. The Carmen archetype is so powerful that she's inspired countless reworkings, bringing out different aspects of the meme. Calixto Bieito's celebrated production of Bizet's Carmen, now at the ENO, is an excellent oportunity to reconnect with the fundamental human drama

Bieito is Spanish, and his Barcelona production was geared towards Spanish sensibilities. Catalunians think of themselves as distinct from Spain. The first flag we see is t la Rojigualda with the royal crest. Later we see the same colours with the image of a bull emblazoned. Obviously, Escamillo is a toreador. But the image goes far deeper. The silhouette bull we see is  the ubiquitous Osborne Bull that dots the Spanish landscape. To many it's a symbol of foreign economic domination: to Catalunians, it's a reminder that their region is controlled by Spain. Although Carmen the opera is associated with Spain, Carmen isn't Spanish but a gypsy. Her people obey no state, and observe no borders. 

The first scene is set in a military camp. The soldiers look strong and virile, but they're brutalized into conformity. Recalcitrants are punished, even by death. Duncan Rock looks god-like as Morales, but we know he's just a corporal who could be sacrificed as fodder. He's like the bull who must kill or be killed.  The crowd secenes are well choreographed. In their uniforms, men and women move like parts of  a machine. Only the children remain wild and free. When Carmen becomes Escamillo's consort, she seems poised to join polite society, but then she's killed.

Ruxandra Donose is superlative as Carmen. Concepción in Ravel's L'heure espagnole is one of  her  signature roles, which she's done at the Royal Opera House and at the Barbican.  Her voice is rich, with a lustrous smoky quality, which adds depth and mystery.  This is especially important in Carmen who carries the whole opera. In Barcelona, Erwin Schrott, Roberto Alagna and Marina Poplavskaya were superlative, comensating for a relatively weak Carmen.  In London, most of the cast comes from the usual ENO milieu. Without Donose, the performance would have been much less satisfying.

Donose creates an intelligent Carmen who negotiates her way through difficult situations. The Habanera is her calling card, advertising her image as seductress, but sexuality is a means to an end.  Perhaps Carmen wants love, but she's too realistic to expect miracles. When the smugglers bring out flamenco dresses from their loot, all three women think it's degrading. These are just cheap  costumes. What they really want is to move ahead, but they haven't the means. Donose's Carmen has a natural elegance which suggests that higher aspirations may be within her reach. Her singing is sensual but never vulgar. She's blonde, but her voice creates the "dark eyes" in the text, coloured by emotional depth.

Don José scatters the contents of Carmen's nice new handbag to demean her. Donose crawls on the ground, desperately trying to pick up the fragments. Her voice becomes almost fragile, yet she doesn't capitulate. This subtle portrayal develops Carmen as a sympathetic human being, far deeper than the slattern society assumes she must be. Donose's Carmen is genuinely truly tragic because she is no caricature, but a good woman crushed just when she might be reaching her dreams.

Bieito's staging suggests the open countryside where a "child of liberty" might roam free. Lilas Pastia (Dean Street) and the smugglers meet in the open air, just as people do in hot countries like Spain.  When Escamillo (Leigh Melrose) and Don José (Adam Diegel) fight they jump on old cars as if they were mountain rocks. In the Barcelona original, Bieito drew parallels with the way tourism despoiled the Spanish countryside and national culture. For London, that had to be moderated for obvious reasons, so all we got this time was a woman in a bikini and other tourists singing about Butlins (not Benidorm as far as I recall). The perils of opera in English!

More effectively, Bieito builds his staging on an acute understanding of Bizet's music. We see Escamillo as toreador only briefly. It's his job, not his normal world. The toreador songs are heard from a distance for the same reason: they are colourful illusion, not reality. Carmen is completely alone when she confronts José. They face each other in a circle on what looks like clay. In this corrida, they are the real Bull and Bullfighter.

Ryan Wigglesworth conducted the ENO Orchestra. He is an elegant conductor whose clarity works well in modern music. In Bizet, he could do with a bit more low down and dirty, for the story is horrible, and the charms of the music need context to give them bite. Elizabeth Llewellyn has a big following who greeted her long aria with deserved applause. Beautiful singing, but not the grittiness of Poplavskaya's Micaëla. But then she doesn't get paid as much. Madeleine Shaw (Mercédès) and Rhian Lois (Frasquita) were vividly defined, though the part of the young daughter, so well developed in Barcelona, had less impact. Graeme Danby sang Zuniga. José lies rather too high for Adam Diegel though he lasted the long role well. While Donose's Romanian accent gave her Carmen an exotic edge, Diegel's American accent was disconcerting. Leigh Melrose's Escamillo didn't cut quite as much of a dash as some Escamillos do, even when their singing isn't as steady. Very few could  manage the sheer animal magnetism of Erwin Schrott in the role in Barcelona. But while the ENO sticks to its policy of English language productions, few singers will take the trouble to relearn their parts in the vernacular. 
photo : Ruxandra Donose, credit Nikolaus Karlinksy

First Habanera recording 1891

My friend and regular reader has written about the first ever recording of Bizet's Carmen Habanera. It was made in 1891 by Julius Block , a businessman who bought a phonograph off Thomas Edison. This was way before the concept of commercial recording developed.  But fashionable, well-heeled people were fascinated by the novelty. When Block demonstrated the phonograph to the Tsar, the Tsar bought one too. Block persuaded the big stars of the day to play and sing for him. Block's wax cylinders were long thought missing but Ward Marston has cleaned them up and made them available on CD. (read more here)

The first Habanera recording was made with Italian mezzo Adele Borghi (b 1860). The recording lasts 1.33 so isn't complete, but the wonder is that it exists at all. Carmen was "new music" at the time, probably quite racy stuff. Borghi's recording was made only 16 years after the premiere. It's interesting that 19th century people didn't have hang-ups about "traditional" or "conservative" music. Once Carmen caught on, it became a classic. What's more people of the time were sufficiently technology-friendly to experiment with the latest inventions.

The photo shows Emma Calvé as Carmen with her arms uncovered, smoking a cigarette and looking provocative. Calvé also recorded the Habanera, in 1902. In 1905, Jeanne Marie de L'Isle made another recording. Her aunt and teacher was Célestine Galli-Marié, Bizet's first Carmen. Listen HERE for Calvé and HERE for de L'Isle.

Why Carmen in 3D can work

Bizet's Carmen bombed when it was first heard. Too difficult, too decadent! They couldn't give tickets away. Now it's the world's favourite opera, known even to people who don't know what opera is. So  bear that in mind when assessing Carmen in 3D from the Royal Opera House. I'd never seen a 3D movie in my life, so was worried by some negative pre publicity from people who don't know the production or film. Anything new upsets people. But Carmen in 3D isn't the end of civilization. It's just new technology applied to something familiar.

Carmen was the first opera to be filmed, in 1D and silent, which defeats the purpose of opera, but still appealed as a story. Look at  two early Carmen films - Charlie Chaplin's 1915 Burlesque on Carmen and Ernst Lubitsch's 1921 Gypsy Blood. They are so hammy it's embarrassing. But film was such a novelty then that people didn't have preconceptions of what filmed opera should and shouldn't be. 3D or RealD, to use its proper name, is so new that it hasn't really evolved.  I don't think it's as big an advance as 2D (HD) is on 1D but it's never a good idea to write anything off too soon.

This is after all the first opera on 3D, the start of a learning curve. Indeed, it's not even aimed at an opera audience so much as at the 3D market. There aren't that many 3D films around, so there's plenty of commercial pressure to produce more and expand the range. Now that everyone can watch DVDs at home, cinemas need something unique to beat the competition. The idea is to give people an experience they can't do at home. What's so bad about making the movies a social occasion again? And why shouldn't 3D audiences have opera instead of theur usual fare?

It's extremely significant that the first 3D opera is Carmen, and not something esoteric. Francesca Zambello's production is safe and popular, which is why it's been revived so many times. Everyone's seen it before, and there's even a DVD with Antonacci and Kaufmann. So serious opera goers have nothing to lose. Why not share the fun with people who might not otherwise go? For many, just seeing inside  the Royal Opera House might be a revelation. Normal people in the audience! The singers are shown before and after as perople, being made up and taking their bows. This film counteracts the elitist image of opera and might bring in new audiences. For all we know, teenagers might watch this. They've been known to discover opera in the past.

The film is very different to the opera experienced live. Somehow the colour process has been drained out, so the film is very dark and oppressive, like early Technicolor in the 1940's where all the tones are faded. Wearing X ray specs doesn't help. I took mine off and there was some improvement.  But without the shining golds and jewel tones on the Toréador and Torrero costumes a lot of the splendour is gone. Live, Escamillo's entry on that huge black stallion takes your breath away, it's so wonderful. Here it looks like a different horse altogether.  Even the cortege of candles in the procession doesn't shine. Some details work well, like the leather corset Carmen wears, but much of the impact of Zambello's production is lost. I don't know if the cause is technical or a result of the filming.

This Carmen wasn't made for 3D or even for film, which is an advantage because the director, Julian Napier, doesn't need to strive for special effects. So don't have nightmares about this being anything like the 3D horror movies of the 1950's. At the beginning, Bryan Hymel reaches out at the camera, and his hands are distorted like crazy. Then you see him grin. It's a joke! The movie avoids obvious stunts as much as possible, though there are odd moments, such as when guyropes cross the camera's field of vision or actors run across the outer edges.

Zambello's staging is notoriously horizontal, so I was hoping there might be more shots from different angles, such as from the ramparts, as the crowd scenes can't be seen too clearly. One plus of 3D is that it adds depth to this production. For example, when the soldiers assemble in the market place, the camera follows the arch they make. Crowd scenes are much more clearly defined. Part of the meaning of the opera pivots on the iidea of private individual as opposed to public persona. 3D actually makes this clearer, since key figures really do stand out from the background. Carmen in particular benefits, because she seems even more alone in 3D than she does live. I suspect with time, film makers will realize that with 3D less is more, The details that really improve are small things like the way Christine Rice crosses the fingers in her hands, like a protective hollow, not "big" movements like jumping and runnning.

Which bodes well, as less is always more on film. Closeups help.  Carmen does not need the kind of semaphore acting Chaplin and Lubitsch were forced to use in their day. Because she comes from a very upper class background and has a Cambridge degree, Carmen-as-slut doesn't come naturally to Christine Rice. Instead, she portrays Carmen as a tense personality living on the edge, which is perfectly true.  Like most people who use sex to manipulate others, Carmen probably doesn't really enjoy it. So when Rice looks at Escamillo and suddenly relaxes, you knw what it means.

Performances all round are good, but the orchestra really comes into its own in this film.  The Royal Opera House orchestra is always reliable, but conductor Constantinos Carydis gets specially vivid playingvfrom them  so the music pulsates with energy and colour. Like many in this cast he may not be a household name outside Europe but so what? Europeans kmnow a little bit about music. Besides, he's good and that's the most important thing.  3D is good for filming orchestras. It gives visual depth, so the difference between rows of musicians feels more realistic. And when you can see depth, your mind picks it up aurally, too.

A few weeks ago I went to an excellent conference at UCL on "Carmen and Her others" whichgh was about the Carmen archetype as it adapts from novel to opera into other genres and locales. Last count there were over 100 variations on the theme, including from several different parts of Africa, and China, and versions in rock and pop. Beyoncé stars in a hip hop version !  (Please see descriptions of numerous versions on nthis site by using the Carmen label on right) . So the world can take a 3D Carmen, no problem.

The trouble with all the "reviews" in the press is that they are written as reviews of the performance by people who clearly haven't seen much opera. It's irrelevant whether this is a good or bad production, or even a good or bad opera. It's not news, ikt's been around forever. What is news, and what they're supposed to be reviewing is how the 3D realization works or doesn't.  So it's all ther more refreshing read this article here where someone has taken the trouble to think. Like the man says, "I'll take Herzog's opinion".

Opera - Best of 2010

Lists bother me.  How do you compare a fish to a pinecone? But looking back at 2010 opera is a good exercise because it makes you think "why" things appeal or don't.

At the top, several Royal Opera House productions proving that it's one of the greatest houses of all, however how some enjoy picking nits. Where would we be otherwise? How we've been enriched by Francesco Cilea's Adriana Lecouvreur! What an experience, visually, musically, intellectually! This was a production where everything pulled together - stars, comprimario, designs, orchestra, conceptual ideas. Brilliant and not just because it looked good. This production had brains behind it (please see several different posts).

Next Niobe, Regina di Tebe. This generated extreme responses, understandably so, as it was baroque, unknown and given completely innovative treatment. Baroque audiences wanted spectacle, excitement, extravagance and wit. That's why Niobe was a hit with specialist European audiences. Too bad if some London audiences didn't get it. Perhaps too many staid Handel performances blunt the appetite. (And Handel can be wild!)  Artistically, this was a daringly brave.choice. Several different posts on Niobe on this blog, please search.

Tannhäuser would be top of my list for sure except for niggling doubts. Audio-only it's mindbendingly beautiful but therein lies the dilemma.  What does the opera really mean? Why are the Wartburgers and even the Pope so paranoid? It's much more than an opera about art, even though the main man's the one with the lute. It's a morality tale with a twist. As Tannhäuser says, the Wartburgers don't know what real emotion is. It follows that, no matter how beautiful art might be, it's superficial without intense, and dangerous emotional engagement. There's plenty on Tannhäuser and on Wagner on this site, so please take the time to read and think about it. Fascinating. I'm growing to love this performance (as heard on broadcast) passionately but still not completely convinced it's been thought through. Not even by Wagner himself, perhaps.But interpretation is important, because it's has a bearing on evaluating performance.

So what is the thread that runs through how and why I respond to things. For me I think it's repertoire first, understanding the work in question, its composer and its meaning.  Even completely new things like George Benjamin's Into the Little Hill which grows in stature the more it's heard.  With vocal music, there almost inevitably has to be meaning of some kind of other, conscious or otherwise. Indeed, the greater the work, there more complex the interpretation. Usually, though not inevitably.

That's why I enjoyed the Glyndebourne Don Giovanni better than the Glyndebourne Billy Budd.  That Billy Budd managed to avoid morality altogether and present the opera as a sailor love triangle. If it hadn't been for Jacques Imbrailo's outstanding performance,  the production would have been ideas-free altogether. In this opera, Britten comes close to revealing his inner conflicts. But perhaps audiences want comfort zone affirmation, not ideas. Anyway, I'll be writing more later about the filmed version of Don Giovanni that's still available on BBCTV2 on demand.  The film is so different from the actual live experience it needs a special post.

ENO's Makropulos Case would have been top of my list too if it had been in Czech.  No way will the best European singers relearn their parts in a language foreign to them and to the music. Of course the ENO helped put Janáček on the anglophone map but it's still a compromise.  ENO's Bizet Pearl Fishers would have been a greater success if all the singers had been on the level of those in the ROH concert Les Pêcheurs de Perles. Some languages translate better. Oddly enough, the more I think about ENO's Idomeneo, the more it makes sense to me. Revivable, with adjustments.

Two Rossini Armidas and one Handel Alcina this year (same theme, different angle). I walked out of the Met Armida in disgust. Massive budget, but so self-congratulatory (I could use another word) that  it was artistic constipation. In complete contrast Garsington Opera's Armida was utterly brilliant.  Garsington makes a speciality of obscure Rossini operas, so the production came from a genuine understanding of the music and meaning. The Met has money, but Garsington has taste.

Normally I don't like celebrity chasing because it's not good for art or for the kind of performers who take it too seriously. But some singers rise way above that level and have integrity. That's why I shall never forget Plácido Domingo's Simon Boccanegra.  Such artistry, such committment, such engagement. Who cares if the fit's not perfect? There are things in art that transcend all pettiness.

Calixto Bieito Carmen Barcelona

Mention "Calixto Bieito" and anti-modernists charge like enraged bulls, whether or not they know his work or even know opera. Bizet's Carmen shows how rewarding - and operatically valid - Bieito's approach can be, and a lot more "authentic" than most. My review of the ENO Bieito Carmen in London is here.

In Spain, audiences know enough about bullfighting not to be fooled by kitschy imitations on stage. Escamillo appears in full toreador garb at the right time, but the image is used sparingly for maximum impact. Bullfighting is an ancient ritual, pitting man against nature,  challenging death itself. Just like Carmen.

At Gran Teatre del Liceu in Barcelona, Bieito's Carmen is specially potent. Catalunya straddles the border between Spain and France: this is real Roma, Basque and Catalan territory. Throughout history there have always been underclasses, living on the margins. Bieito dioesn't need to "update" anything. His gypsies and townsfolk are utterly authentic. Once they drove caravans, now they drive battered old cars. The women are dressed as the poor do everywhere. When the smugglers find "flamenco" dresses, the scene becomes a game. Everyone knows it's putting on an act, not reality.

Béatrice Uria-Monzon's Carmen is a powerful figure. She wears a denim skirt, but it's embrodered and lined with satin. Like the poor dress all over the world, her friends wear chain-store tat, but Carmen references grander things. But for her poverty, she could be someone, and aspire to more. Uria-Monzon doesn't camp up the Habanera. It's Carmen's public persona. When Uria-Monzon sings Près des remparts de Séville, her voice becomes lustrous. She's revealing the true Carmen. All those tra-la-las and seduction moves are survival tactics. Only rarely can she sing  je chante pour moi-même.

Like Carmen, Escamillo lives on his wits. Erwin Schrott's face is half hidden by his hat and he uses cunning rock star moves, but the splendour of the voice reveals the depths of Escamillo's soul. Schrott exaggerates the Gallic snorts, which is good: it highlights the wildness of the character, creating Escamillo as if he was a bull. a powerfully animalistic icon, bursting with energy. The singing comes in short bursts, sudden dramatic turns. Just like in a bullring, where both bull and toreador must be in control, waiting for the decisive, sudden lunge.

A huge silhouette of a bull dominates the staging in Act 2. No need for a literal inn, because Spain itself is a smuggler's den. The silhouette is the Osborne Bull, the famous billboard scattered over the landscape so much that it's become a symbol of Spain. Yet it's an ad for a company with English roots selling Spanish products to Spaniards, and Catalans are fiercely independent-minded. A male dancer creates a wonderful tableau in the darkness, stripping off symbolically, dancing with the grace of an animal. He's both bull and toreador, bending his arms inward towards his chest, the way a bull is skewered. Incredibly poignant.

In the first orchestral interlude, a young girl imagines herself as a dancer, and props up her (blonde) Barbie Doll. She's so young, yet already she's buying into the seamy side of life, because that's what girls have to do in these situations. She'll end up corrupted but what choice does she have? Frasquita and Mercédès sing of marriage as an escape, but Carmen knows it's an illusion. Perhaps it might be shocking to some that the child choruses here include young girls well on the way to prostitution. But that's a fact of life in extremely poor societies (and rich ones too). Why should people be horrified by seeing such things on stage when reality outside is even worse?

If anything, Bieito downplays the sexuality, for sex here is a business transaction like any other. He's interested in the wider implications. First the Osborne bull and its connotations of economic colonialization. Then there's a blonde tourist, sunning heself, nonchalantly ignoring the poverty-stricken masses behind her. In Britain, these levels may be missed, because Bieito doesn't force them too explicitly. But in Spain, and in Barcelona, audiences know what they mean. Again, why be shocked when reality is so much more brutal?

Roberto Alagna sings a convincing Don José. He's sympathetic, as the object of Micaëla's love, but macho enough for us to believe that Carmen might fancy him. But he's no match for Schrott's lethally erotic Escamillo. As the case should be - it wouldn't do otherwise. Marina Poplavskaya makes a nicely strong Micaëla, tough enough to brave brigands, but again, not specially feminine. The attraction for Don José is mother and homeland.  The singer doing The Lieutenant deserves mention. He's tall and sexy, another "bull" figure with his physical presence and authoritative singing.
 
Please read Opera Cake on Bieito's Basel Aida - intelligently analyzed. No doubt some audiences won't cope with the idea of "Ethiopian" underclasses destabilizing "proper" society. But again, that's what's happening in the real world.

Bizet Pearl Fishers in concert ROH

Bizet's Les Pêcheurs de Perles is notoriously hard to stage. Because the plot's so grandiose, the imagination works overtime, dwarfing the music, making it seem puny in comparison. There's a lot to be said in favour of concert performances because they shift the balance back to Bizet.

What was striking in this performance of Les Pêcheurs de Perles (Pearl Fishers) at the Royal Opera House was how delicate much of Bizet's writing really is. It doesn't jump up and grab you like the tunes from Carmen. Bizet knows zilch about Indian music but in his imagination it's delicate and refined - Le petit Trianon India, as authentic as 18th century "oriental" wallpaper. Since nowadays we think of India with more realism, we're not conditioned to Bizet's watercolours.

Dispense with the "orientalism" and think of Les Pêcheurs de Perles as French countryside, and the opera falls into perspective. Kings and Priests dominate because peasants are superstitious, and think holy Virgins will protect them.  When the chorus sings of Brahma they could as easily be singing of Jesus. Get away from extreme exotic images and the music makes sense on its own terms.

Antonio Pappano is wise to let this delicacy breathe: over-expansive gestures are best left to the histrionic narrative. Bizet imagines India in delicate, refined string textures, flute trills and gently beaten cymbals.  Crescendi build up like swells in the ocean, diminuendos evoking gracious submission. Lovely bell-like miniatures throughout evoking an idea of the East as perfumed and flower strewn as a church in France on a holy day. There's more drama in this music than the opera is given credit for, and Pappano elucidates what's there, without pushing it past its limits.The delicacy of the playing let themes, such as those from the "big number",  resurface elusively throughout the opera, sometimes so subtle they can be overpowered by being made too obvious.

The Royal Opera House orchestra deserve more appreciation than they get, so it was good to see them on stage rather than hidden in the pit. Seeing the bare structure of the stage was instructive, too, a reminder of just how much art goes into making the fantasy of opera.

Leila is a part almost tailor-made for Nicole Cabell. She's exquisite, and swathed in sapphire satin creates a character even before she sings. Pretty singing too., but the role, despite its charm doesn't lend itself to great displays of passion. John Osborne's Nadir was assertive and lucidly clear in the true French manner. His aria Je crois entendre encore, was beautifully shaped and balanced, the orchestra poised around it well, so it did feel caché sous les palmiers.
 
The duet Au fond du temple saint was very well realized by Osborne and Gerald Finley. Finley was by far the biggest name in the ensemble, however good Osborne, Cabell and Raymond Aceto's Nourabad could be. More darkness would work well with Zurga, who is a very troubled man, but Finley's singing is so well modulated that he creates authenticity without apparent effort.

I loved the ENO Pearl Fishers because the staging (Penny Woolcock) really made sense of the plot and its undertones, infinitely more so than Bizet.  That's why it was an artistic triumph, despite the poverty of the singing (with the exception of excellent Quinn Kelsey). This ROH Les Pêcheurs de Perles is a triumph for the music. Surprisingly sensitive orchestral playing, good singing and enough drama in the music to compensate for the lack of visuals.A longer and better version of this will appear soon in Opera Today.

Bizet est Mauricien

Carmen in the Mauritius ! Please see the review here.
"Même lorsque la musique nous rapproche des Pyrénées Atlantiques, la fin du deuxième acte ou dans le troisième, même si nous pensions qu'elle chaussait des sabots auvergnats, la mise en scène, interactive nous fait voir les visages multiples de la cigarière (la scène de la fabrique) : ceux de notre pays! "

First Carmens Habanera 1905 ?

Click here for a link to a recording of the Habanera, made in 1905. Mlle Jeanne Marié de l L'isle (1872-1926) sings the Habanera from Bizet Carmen.

It's interesting not only because it's so early, but because Mlle de L'isle's aunt and teacher was Célestine Galli-Marié (1840–1905), (pictured left) the first Carmen, who worked with Georges Bizet. Célestine, a star of the Opéra-Comique, was also a friend of Massenet, premiering Charlotte in Werther. Jeanne's grandfather was a very famous bass. Interesting how singers then operated as family businesses. That's how singers as young as Malibran got ahead, making their debuts in their teens. Rare now.

To quote Vincent Giroud :
"What is particularly impressive about (Mlle de L'isle's) interpretation, apart from the perfect execution of vocal ornamentation (including occasional interpolated grace notes), is the lightness of touch and lack of affectation. No tragic femme fatale, she brings to the role, instead, unusual touches of youthfulness and charm, particularly apparent in the Dance—perhaps, one wonders, to her own castanet accompaniment. She “speaks” the role, never shouts it, and for once, Bizet’s expressive direction for the “Card Scene,” “simplement et très également,” is taken literally."

Lubitsch's Carmen - Gypsy Blood

Another version of Carmen, this time the 1921 film directed by Ernst Lubitsch which became a huge hit in the US and paved the way for his Hollywood career. Gypsy Blood is the title, but it's a fairly straightforward account of the Prosper Mérimée novel. Bizet at least injects colour, flamboyance and good tunes. In comparison, Lubitsch can't compete for thrills.

Gypsy Blood made Pola Negri a megastar.  Polish girl finds fame as Basque gypsy in French novel  as German made movie repackaged for the US! Modern Times, we'd say, with deliberate reference to Charlie Chaplin, one of Negri's lovers, who also made a take-off of Carmen in 1918. Watch Chaplin's Burlesque on Carmen in full download . You can see why Lubitsch's version was an improvement. And it makes you appreciate the much greater sophistication of  Rex Ingrams's Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, also 1921. Ingrams is making an art movie with political kick, not just a pot booiler.

Carmen is intriguing because she's a symbol of womanhood completely outside convention. Lethal termptresses are a primeval archetype - Eve in the Bible, and before her, Sumerian goddesses with wings and bisexual characteristics. Mérimée's Carmen caught the imagination because she overturned 19th century propriety. Mérimée draws a cultural safety net around her by emphasizing her ethnicity. Gypsies were supposed to be uncivilized creatures, or as Hitler would say, irredeemable Untermensch. Real Roma are right to be offended by Gypsy Blood.

Ironically, Mérimée came across the story via a Parisian socialite, but he wasn't being racist so much as fascinated by alternatives to mainstrean western European culture. Carmen, like Zuleika in Goethe or  Isolde in Wagner, represents new possibilities with ancient antecendents. Carmen, though, breaks basic moral rules. She smokes, she drinks, she lusts, she does crime. Carmen in the 1920's gave legitimacy to millions of New Women, who smoked, drank, danced, and lusted like she, though most didn't cross ethical boundaries.

Lubitsch's Gypsy Blood is crude even by film making standards of the time. Negri's exaggerated kiss curls are so ludicrous that maybe the film's reminding us it's farce. Film techniques then were primitive  hence the cartoon-like makeup and overdone gestures. But even by the standards of the time this semaphore acting isn't even trying to be realistic.

Please read other posts here on Carmen - Chaplin, Bizet, the new ROH 3D film and the Chinese Carmen, Grace Chang (Ge Lan), whose film Wild, Wild Rose is one of the finest developments of all (barring Bizet). I've written a lot on Chinese film and its part in modernization, and have given FULL downloads too. Carmen isn't necessarily a "bad girl" but a personality adapting to rapidly shifting social mores. That's why she's such a potent symbol.

Sing Along Carmen First Opera in 3D

Tonight, there's a big-screen broadcast of Carmen from the Royal Opera House beamed live at various locations. There will be "Sing Along" events too, which sounds like fun! Everyone knows the tunes and singing is physically rewarding even if the person next to you might not like hearing you. Still, that's what's good about Carmen. Carmen is one of the people, she'd be out in the streets too singing if she could. (Watch your wallet, though.)

Here is the full link to the review of this Carmen which appears in Opera Today. Bear in mind that it's being filmed in 3D high definition, the first opera 3D film ever made. Because of the way films are made, preparations are made well in advance. Chances are camera crew, director etc. were in on rehearsals. They can't just turn up and shoot.

Let's hope the rain holds off as Sing Along Carmen to big screen could be good.   Last night at Garsington it poured. But really posh folks are used to getting wet in muddy fields.  It was Rossini's Armida, light years more artistic than the brain-dead Met Armida this spring. More on that soon, watch this space.

Habanera in Chinese

New improved version of the classic Habanera from Ge Lan (Grace Chang) complete with English subtitles. It comes from the film Wild, Wild Rose in which Ge lan plays a night club singer. A Nice Boy comes to play piano in the club, he's a classical musician and hates lowlifes. So she makes him play arias which she then deconstructs. Hilarious! Below she's seducing him to Johann Strauss. Also snips from Rigoletto, Puccini etc. They fall in love, but she's "owned" by a gangster. Nice Boy shoots gangster and goes to jail. Eventually Wild Wild Rose kills herself so Nice Boy can go back to original Nice Girl and start a new life.

Subtle Carmen? 3D film Royal Opera House

Everyone knows the tunes from Carmen, even if they don 't know they come from an opera. So it's good that the world's favourite opera is now to become the world's first 3D opera film. 3D is a higher grade version of 2D High Definition currently available. It's been used in Avatar, the hit sci-fi fantasy, so it could bring a whole new audience to "the opera experience". 

Carmen is an ideal choice. We're so familiar with it, we forget how dramatic the plot is: crime, sex, blood and murder. Slutty women, men in cute uniforms. Carmen could have been written for the screen. In fact, lots of movies have already been made, so why not the opera itself?

Francesca Zambello's revived production is perfect too, because it's visually stunning. Watching it last night in the Royal Opera House, I kept imaging what a good film director might focus on, because this is a production that lends itself to being seen from different angles. In the auditorium, for example, it's easy to miss the small ensembles high above the stage, "on the ramparts" so to speak, who have a panorama on the village the seated audience don't see.

 Townsfolk mill about doing things, washing themselves, selling things, leading a live donkey across the stage (courtesy of Island Farm Donkey Sanctuary).  This is a set that just begs for the quick shots and pans you can do in film.  Interpretively, this busyness is valid, because Carmen and Escamillo have public images they need to pander to. Would Carmen be quite such a terror if she didn''t have an image to live up to? And Escamillo is the media darling of his time, adored because he risks his life to give the crowd a thrill.

Visually, this Carmen is stunning. The town glows in earth tones, ochres and reds. The smuggling scene's mysterious, sinister blues, greys, greens : The last scene outside the bullring is harshly lit, empty. Carmen has nowhere to hide, dark shadows loom.

The ensemble scenes are particularly effective. The children are wonderful, each distinctively individual and fun. They dance sequences are great. Even though you can tell the professional dancers from the dancing singers, that's part of the charm. The Toreros, of course are magnificent - they move like the dancers they are, and such costumes! Maximum impact is what it's all about. These peasants have grim lives, they need circus. Perhaps that's why Zambello created the religious procession in Act 3 which doesn't make sense otherwise. The Church is theatre too, and images of Jesus are often covered in blood. (If I were filming this, I#'d do a shot of flickering candles, snuffed out).

Part of the fun watching last night's performance at The Royal Opera House was imagining how it would grow  First Night Syndrome affects every production, but this time there's the film to think about too.  So much is hanging on the success of the film, which is a historic first.

Christine Rice's dark good looks make her a good choice for the part.  Her singing is precise and attractive, but a wild abandon would liven the characterization.  Carmen's lowdown, mean and dirty. Rice is well bred and lady-like, not really the sort of girl who sticks men's heads up her skirt to taunt them. She shows the softer sides of Carmen's personality better, such as in the card game trio with Frasquita (Elena Xanthoudakis) and Mercédès (Paula Murrihy), all three singing particularly well. A wonderful vignette.
 
Aris Argiris's Escamillo has huge potential. The "public" and "private" Escamillo co-exist, but often the public version dominates. The Act Two entrance is so dramatic that it overshadows all else -in this production, horse and all - but what was interesting for me was the way Argiris conveyed the double edge of the song. Escamillo's describing the spectacle of a bullfight, yet there's a wistful vulnerability when he sings of the "dark eyes" that are watching him.  This is important, for what Escamillo and Carmen have in common is this inner sensitivity other people cannot see, but which they recognize in each other.

Butch Escamillos we can hear any time,  but this one's much more interesting because it's subtle. Film can show details easily missed in an auditorium, so Argiris's characterization will "grow" to advantage in close-ups.  The part is written in an unusual way. The big entrance is dramatic, but it doesn't last long.  In the confrontation between Escamillo and Don José, the part is written more conventionally. In the final act, Escamillo doesn't have very much to sing at all.  But therein lies the intelligence of Bizet's approach.

It's not the macho big moments that really make Escamillo, but the short, concealed glimpses of who he really is.  Escamillo makes his entrance, then disappears as quickly as he came. The critical part in this scene isn't the flashy showmanship, but the moment when he glimpses Carmen.  The love duet lasts only moments, but again, it's powerful because it's understated and private. Argiris's Escamillo is much deeper than the usual playboy image. Because film can focus on intimate detail, we'll be able to appreciate this much more thoughtful approach to Escamillo. Indeed, this may also reveal the true depths of Christine Rice's Carmen.

It's significant how Bizet contrasts the two couples, Carmen and Escamillo and José and Micaëla. The former don't actually sing all that much, but the latter sing on, and on. Since the latter pair are more c9onventional, their parts are written more conventionally too. Brian Hymel's Don José struggled vocally in the first act, but by the final, and critical final act, he was in better form.  He'll be heard to advantage as the run progresses, and in the film. Singing, unlike bullfighting, isn't sudden death.

Maija Kovalevska's  Micaëla, on the other hand was superb from beginning to end. Sometimes,  Micaëla  seems like a minor part because she's just a kid, but Kovalevska's solid vocal authority brings out the role's hidden  power.  Micaëla travels into smuggler's dens to find José. She's more of a man than he is, sweet as she may be. Indeed, she's a protoype of Carmen herself,  because she, too, is independent and takes risks for love. It's her Covent Garden debut too, but she's sung the role at the Met and in Munich. She has impressive experience elsewhere too.

Since Carmen's so familiar, we think we know it. But prerhaps there are things in it we could still discover. I'm looking forward the the ROH film, 3D or not, if it's well directed . The stage direction could be tightened up, movements sharpened and French diction improved, but all in all, this was pretty interesting.

A much better version (with pix) of this is on the Opera Today site, where there's also an interview with Aris Argiris and details about the 3D film. The film is being made for the 3D audience rather than an opera audience as such.. There aren't many films for this kind of cinema, so wjy not give them a bit of culture with their usual fare? Dozens of adaptations of the Carmen theme exist, including one with Beyonce. So anyone who gets hysyterical about Carmen in 3D is a fool and a snob..

Aris Argiris sings Escamillo , ROH Carmen

Aris Argiris makes his debut at Covent Garden as Escamillo in Bizet’s Carmen. But this is unusually high-profile. The Royal Opera House is having this Carmen filmed in 3D digital technology, which is higher grade than the current 2D high definition.

Such a debut would put pressure on any young singer, but Aris Argiris, the 35 year old baritone, is resilient ..."Escamillo is a Toreador, he’s not afraid”, says Argiris. “He gets charged by bulls all the time, so he stays calm, even when José pulls a knife on him. His job is to fight bulls, not to kill men. It’s not worth his time. He thanks Carmen for saving him, but actually he’s already getting up. Next minute, he forgets about the duel, and thinks ahead, inviting everyone to the next bullfight.”

“Escamillo is a big star, all around him people are singing “Vivat! vivat!”, so he has to give them the kind of show they want. Why do people like watching blood, danger death? I don’t know. But Escamillo gives them a thrill. Both he and Carmen are the centre of attention, they have to give their public a dramatic image, so they both have these wonderful arias. So Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre is Escamillo’s Habanera”.

“But Escamillo knows that in the bullring, he is alone with the bull. Real Toreadors are very young”, adds Argiris, “Seventeen, maybe 21, but they have to be young, like footballers, because they have to move fast. They can’t grow old or the bull kills them”. The aria is full of thrills, but also “un œil noir”. Someone, something is watching the Toreador. Is his fate love? As Carmen sings, love is a wild bird that cannot be trapped. And bulls have dark eyes too.

“Escamillo acts like he doesn’t care, but he is a deep person. Carmen too, acts like a devil, but there is something more in her. She is a bit like Don Giovanni, everyone wants to be with her, but everyone gets hurt. So she’s a challenge to someone like Escamillo who shows no fear. The moment they see each other, the whole atmosphere changes, even though she pretends to be haughty. The meeting is fatal, because it’s the beginning of the end for Carmen”.

“What they feel is ursprunglich, it comes from deepest parts of the soul. At this moment, nothing else matters, they can’t think rationally or about consequences, it’s pure instinct.”

“Their love duet must be the shortest love duet in the whole repertoire, only a page and a half. They sing in unison, but it only lasts a moment, like their love, which will end too soon. There’s nothing like it between Carmen and José”. In the middle of the interview, Argiris bursts into song, he’s so moved. “Listen how it ends with a modulation. It cannot go forward because their love will not go forward. It’s amazing how Bizet writes it, it’s deliberate. He’s telling us that this love cannot be fulfilled. The moment is short, but it’s so important, and it’s cut with strange harmonies from the orchestra.”

“And look”, Argiris adds, “how Escamillo shows his love for Carmen to the whole world, without fear. She was a gypsy and was a smuggler, but now she is the Toreador’s Lady, and she has the best seat on the horse. She is someone important. Yet at that moment of triumph, she is killed. So it’s not an accident that, when Carmen dies, the Toreador melody is heard again. In the distance Escamillo has killed another bull. The crowd cheer, but he has lost, because he has lost Carmen”.


A longer and more detailed version of this will appear shortly in Opera Today. First Night is tomorrow. Read more about Argiris here. He's a nice guy. .PLEASE READ THE REVIEW HERE and on Opera Today soon

Charlie Chaplin's Burlesque on Carmen

So yoiu can appreciate Bizet'sr Carmen at the Royal Opera House, here's Charlie Chaplin's 1915 take, Burlesque on Carmen.  Because it's a vehicle for the Little Tramp, the star is Charlie's Don José and his merry dealings with Lilas Pastia. And the men dressed up as a mule! Edna Purviance's Carmen doesn't get much to do except repeat her usual role in Chaplin films.

Nadir and Zenith ENO Pearl Fishers

"Fabulous" means "derived from fable".  "Fantastic" means "derived from fantasy". This new ENO production of Bizet The Pearl Fishers at the Coliseum, London, is fabulous and fantastic in the true meaning of the words. It's true to the meaning of the opera, too, because fable and fantasy are ways of telling hard truths, disguised in sugar coating..

The world Bizet conjures up in The Pearl Fishers is deliberately, provocatively, over the top. Mass murder and sacrilege! Storms and steamy sex! But it's OK, they're only barbarians. Bizet's glorious tunes further disguise the deeper levels in this opera, so cleverly that it can be dismissed as simplistic schlock. Patrons can sit politely in their boxes, unaware of the real scandal before them.

Extravagant plots need extravagant music and extravagant staging. But this production fills the prelude with a dark, mysterious wash of blue. Gradually, from the gloom emerge two figures, who seem to "swim" effortlessly, suspended in space. Immediately, you know this production, by Penny Woolcock and her team, will be different - and dangerous.

Nadirs and Zeniths permeate this whole opera.  Turbulence is an integral part of this music, torn as it is between dynamic extremes. Bizet's writing movie music before movies, but he's not simply being decorative. The music surges like ocean swells. It's magnificent because the ocean is magnificent, but those soaring crescendi crash downward and shatter. The villagers live at the ocean's edge, but their temple is built high up on the mountain. One moment the choruses are ecstatic, the next they're savage and fearful. The vocal parts rise to dizzying heights, then suddenly change course, throwing most singers off course, however well prepared they may be. Treachery is written into the very soul of this opera, not just the plot.  .

 The villagers are poor, and their lives can be destroyed at any time. Poor as they are, they support an elaborate temple and a non-productive priesthood, which keeps them downtrodden.  Extremes, too,  of squalor and excess. The villagers think that keeping the gods happy will keep them safe.  But when the village is burned and the children die, it's their own king who has done the dirty deed. Bizet tarts the story up in fancy dress, but it's not au fond all so far from France a few years after 1848 and on the verge of the Paris Commune.

The Pearl Fishers sounds delicious, but packs a lethal punch.  There are plenty of villages like this in the Third World, as director Penny Woolcock knows. And they don't all have to be exotic and rural. Indeed, suffering often lies side by side with excess. Hence extremes of vulgar display contrasted with simplicity.  The villagers never know when they might lose all they have, so they make the most of what they've got.  The  villagers in this production steal electricity from the main grid, as people do in the Third World all the time. They want to watch TV and enjoy material goods, and who can blame them? But trailing long cables over water is dangerous, and people get killed all the time.

Dick Bird's set designs surge and move, as restless as the sea (and the music).| He uses simple devices like backcloths for the sea and film projections, combining modern and old. He also extends the dichotomy in the opera by juxtaposing  fake oriental fantasy with recognizably realistic detail. The villagers live in huts built on stilts over the water, which move with the tide. At night, small lights twinkle, so the squalor is transformed, like the fairy lights in the temple. But perhaps the real masterstroke in this production is that it treats the villagers as human beings, not mere ciphers in the background.

This village is a real community, where everyone lives on top of one another, in the most intimate way.  Zurga is one of the people, but elected king.  Leila's probably a village girl, also chosen to perform a function for communal benefit. Usually, Pearl Fishers focuses on the big star numbers, but in many ways, the real stars are the villagers, who somehow keep surviving, whatever Nature throws at them. We listen for the glamour arias, but, like the ocean, what's beneath the surface is more profound. The choruses carry through the idea of sudden, swerving extremes. At one point the villagers are pious, at another, the crowd turns savage. They'll do what their leaders tell them.

Another good reason for listening to the orchestra in this production, rather than jsut the singing. Rory Macdonald understand the dynamics, bringing out the constantly shifting turbulence in the orchestral parts.  It's not nearly as "pretty" as the songs floating above it, but that's the point.

Quinn Kelsey's impressive as Zurga. Dark bass baritone voices often aren't the most sympathetic, but Kelsey animates his singing with sensitive acting,  and the flexibility flows through to his voice. He's able to create a well-rounded Zurga in the best way, for somehow he conveys the mysteries of Zurga's personality, which go deeper than just words. Bird designs Zurga's tent so it's like an oyster shell, gnarled and forbidding on the outside, delicate, soft and tender within.  Kelsey sings Zurga's long arias in Act 3 so thoughtfully that you feel Zurga's torment. This is a Zurga who is brutish because he's inarticulate and can't understand his own feelings. He wants to do the right thing but he's hamfisted emotionally, ad ends up wrecking the whole village. But he's not a bad man. He's a hero in his own way because he faces his inner demons, even if his solution is characteristically inept.

Alfie Boe's Nadir is a good counterfoil to Kelsey's Zurga. I must be the last person in the world not to know who he is, but that's OK.  I listen to  what he does, not what the media present.  He impressed me a lot as Kudrjáš in the recent ENO Katya Kabanova, almost stealing the show. .Nadir isn't as deep a role as Zurga, but that's exactly why it needs a singer who can do freshness and energy.As Zurga says, he's giving his life for Leila and Nadir, that they may live if he can't. Boe is a natural communicator, who makes things interesting. (He was brilliant in Jenufa, too. Since this was written, he's pulled out of opera. Congratulations to the woman who kicked up a fuss because he cancelled some performances. With a fan base that wants consumer product not music, as an artist he's doomed)

ENO's budget doesn't run towards Maria Callas and megastars of that ilk, so it's unfair to judge anything they do by the standards of recordings. Leila's an extremely demanding part, requiring extreme range. Tackling Leila's always a technical feat, so Hanan Alattar's attempt was valiant.

The Pearl Fishers is not an easy opera to stage because it's so exaggerated, and frankly corny.  But Penny Woolcock and her team have genuinely thought it through and found its true depths. This is a very perceptive production, which vindicates the ENO's ideas of bringing in directors from different forms of art. (It doesn't always work.)

One of the more subtle images shows two tourists gawping at the natives, as if they were zoo animals. A small detail, but extremely telling. Tourists only see picture postcard travesties of real life. They think they "know" because they've condescended to spend money and consume. But you can't buy into a culture like buying a T-shirt. Who are the "barbarians" here? This perceptive production shows that we can chose whether we want to be "tourists" with Bizet, or try and think like natives.

Here is a much snappier review in OMH Music.

The Pearl Fishers Fire real life

Amazing Pearl Fishers at ENO tonight. Bizet knew little about the Third World, but his imaginary pastiche rings surprisingly true. So many extremes in this opera, Nadirs and Zeniths all over! On one level it's over the top kitsch, on another remarkably realistic, a constant flux between one reality and another. This New ENO production of The Pearl Fishers, at the Coliseum in London, directed by Penny Woolcock, and with set designs by Dick Bird,  really brings out the churning paradoxes that make the opera so turbulent.

For the review, please see HERE. 
 
What might not come across unless you've travelled a lot in the Third World is just how well observed this production is. Things really do look like that. People really do festoon dangerously long cables to get illegal electricity supplies.. At night, clusters of small lights, constant movement (especially villages on boats). And fires! From cooking stoves, from dangerous wiring. At any moment all can be destroyed. This clip is from a huge fire in Hong Kong in 1953, when 53,000 people were made homeless in one night. This was a big one, but smaller fires happened all the time. I was in a few -- very vivid memories. Plus typhoons, landslides, floods.. Every year. Believe me, this ENO Pearl Fishers is authentic. I've actually lived it.

What's more poignant is that, every one of those people had difficult lives even before they wound up in squatter villages. They were ALL refugees, even middle class and well educated, and they end up in shacks made of cardboard. Sometimes they'd been refugees from one place to the other for the previous 20 years. This affects the way people think. People criticize excess, but for people who are used to everything changing at a moment's notice, it's necessary. To understand the Third World, you have to understand what makes the people. (lots of Chinese movies on this site, not escapist kungfu but about society and people).

Bizey with Bizet

Three Bizet operas in one week, and another planned for October at the Royal Opera House. A great opportunity to reflect on what Bizet might mean to us now.

Imagine my shock when I went backstage  at the Coliseum for the ENO production of The Pearl Fishers and saw the set. Stilt houses, almost exactly like the fishing village where I spent a lot of my childhood. Serious karma.

Read what director Penny Woolcock says about ENO's Pearl Fishers. HERE. "At its heart is the love triangle. Such things cause pain and destruction. Then, there's the struggle between the villagers and the ocean. These people are very poor. They live in flimsy dwellings and are at the mercy of storms. And the burning of the village. If you think of the villagers as real people, with children, it's dreadful! So we're taking the story seriously, bringing out the dark undercurrents".

In Bizet's time, the exotic was a mask for feeling and ideas that might not be so easily expressed in polite society. Transferring extreme passions to alien cultures, which weren't "civilized", made them less dangerous. Leila's a sanctified virgin, who has to be veiled - cloistered - because that's how the local religion works. She's a prisoner to the system. Zurga burns down the village - mass murder for the sake of love.  And against this horror, exquisite, diaphanously beautiful music.That's Bizet's masterstroke,  Those who will be lulled see only the surface. Those who see beneath hear the real depth and power. "Manche schöne Perle in seiner Tiefe ruht" as Heine said. Pearl Fishers dive deep, they don't mess about in tide pools.

And what about Carmen? She's a femme fatale of a different order, violent and untamable. Nothing like nice Parisian ladies in Bizet's time (at least not in public).  Maybe her hypnotic allure stems from her being such a rebel. Maybe the men would like to be like that themselves, but they're too repressed. In the Opera Holland Park production, Carmen grabs men by the balls, quite explicitly.

What does Carmen really, really want? Freedom, whatever that might be. Again, brutal violence, theft, murder, treachery and S_E_X, all against a backdrop of gorgeous music.  Like the interlude just before the criminals return from killing the people on the ship. It sounds like a hymn, but we know what's just happened.. Carmen's a nasty slut, and ends up dead. But somehow the "Carmen spirit" lives on. Mousy Micaela doesn't get Don José but she's travelled among brigands and survived.  Arguably, Carmen lives on and becomes..... Lulu!
Please also see Janacek's Dangerous Women