When it was new, Bizet's Carmen generated little enthusiasm among the operatic intelligentsia. Typical of the reaction was this from The New York Times, after the opera's first U.S. performance in 1878: "As a work of art, it is naught." Even its tunefulness was called into question: "Of melody, as the term is generally understood, there is but little" said the Boston Gazette.
Makes you wonder what kind of meds those guys were on.
Needless to say, no amount of carping could ever stop Carmen from becoming one of the world's most popular operas. It is, on some levels, practically indestructible, and that durability is proven anew in Washington National Opera's latest staging of the piece.
Folks seeking the comforts of Carmen will likely leave the Kennedy Center sated, although anyone hoping for lots of new insights, musical or theatrical, may go home a bit hungry.
Denyce Graves staked a claim on the title role in the early 1990s. Judging by Monday's performance, she still owns a fair amount of it, especially when it comes to dishing out the sultry stuff. But, although the mezzo's voice still revealed theater-filling presence and moments of creamy beauty, the tone often turned harsh, and the shifting between registers sounded awkward and effortful.
Still, Graves summoned considerable emotional power for the confrontational scenes in the last two acts, revealing Carmen's intriguing combination of volatility, arrogance and dignity. And I enjoyed the singer's distinctive spins on the Habenera and Seguidilla, giving those familiar pieces unexpected freshness (if some rhythmic messiness).
Thiago Arancam caught the naivete of Don Jose, the soldier who loses his bearings after one transfixing glance from the free-spirited gypsy. The tenor's singing had a good deal of fire and a certain similarity in timbre to the young Placido Domingo, but many a nuance, including the pianissimo B-flat Bizet asked for in the Flower Song, went unattended.
Alexander Vinogradov strutted around amiably as Escamillo, the toreador who turns Carmen's head. He sang powerfully, but could have used more solidity, color and dynamic variation. As Micaela, the girl-back-home Don Jose should have settled down with, Sabina Cvilak sculpted the music sensitively. Top notes were not as sweet as the rest, yet there was eloquence in almost every phrase.
Julius Rudel, a decidedly authoritative conductor at 87, provided a mostly persuasive mix of propulsion and expressive finesse, and kept most of his forces together most of the time.
