With its thorny sexual politics, a new production of Carmen can be a minefield. Prosper Mérimée’s original novella treats his fiercely independent central character with respect, but over the years the heroine’s brutal murder on show in Bizet’s opera has often embraced the voyeuristic characteristics of the bullfight taking place offstage.
As in his Olivier award-winning Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci, Damiano Michieletto deflects some of that by creating a sense of a close-knit community fraying at the edges. Carmen’s tragedy becomes just another small town calamity, a symptom of social claustrophobia heightened by the oppressive Mediterranean heat. Indeed, there are numerous echoes of Michieletto’s former production, from the revolving stage to the tufts of grass thrusting up through the concrete.
