Carlos Acosta first tackled the tragedy of Carmen back in 2015 in a one-act work for the Royal Ballet. It wasn’t a hit. Now, he remakes it into a full-evening piece for his electric Cuban company, Acosta Danza, and joins the cast himself. It’s no longer a turkey – but it still doesn’t take flight.
Georges Bizet’s 1875 opera forged an archetypal disaster of a relationship. Free-spirited Carmen captures and discards Don José’s heart. She wants fun, but he wants forever – it could never work.
Here, the action is distilled to 100 minutes and masterminded by the bull of destiny – Acosta makes an indomitable horned creature. He is a charismatic presence, goading the heroine towards her doom – but is Carmen’s death inevitable? Doesn’t that just let stabby inadequates like José off the hook?
You have to believe that the story could end differently to feel its poignancy – but here, Acosta’s grave manipulation of the action means change never has a chance.
It's a shame, because Laura Rodríguez finds subtle corners in the choreography, even though most of its strokes are broad – she’s a tease surrounded by slavering blokes, shifting her weight from one hip to another and watching them drool. When this Carmen smoulders at you, you stay smouldered. Rodríguez can unleash a balletic dazzle, but when she shoves José aside, she just looks bone-weary about this unwelcome guy who won’t get the message.
Alejandro Silva is a fine dancer – it’s not his fault that José’s every entrance is a vibe-kill. Sulky and clingy, José doesn’t ignite in his duets with Carmen. Acosta seems to be aiming for the kinetic torment of Kenneth MacMillan’s ballets, whose heroes he danced so memorably – but these awkward encounters are more grapple than grace. Carmen’s unapologetically horny duets with Escamillo (Enrique Corrales, sharp and smirking) have a greater gleam.
The designs by Tim Hatley are based on steel bars that look like a trap ready to spring, with a vast ring glowing like a scarlet-lit moon behind the action. The recorded score – based on Rodión Shchedrin’s arrangement of Bizet, plus some additional music – barges through the speakers in an amplified blare.
Where this expanded version scores is in its ensemble scenes. This is Carmen’s world – restless, rowdy, on the rob – and the dancers give it vim, especially in the bar scene that opens the second act.
Fierce and yelping in sleek black waistcoats, their kick-and-jiggle pairings, their finger-clicking, bottle-tossing antics are delivered with fizz.
The Royal Ballet looked embarrassed in the original piece – Acosta Danza dance with conviction and exuberance. It’s not exactly a load of bull – but it’s still not the thrilling ballet you’d hope for.
