In New Zealand Opera's new production of Bizet's Carmen, director Lindy Hume seemed keen to rid Bizet’s opera of all of the tired clichés with which it often abounds. Most of the superficial Spanish elements which one might associate with a conventional production were gone and all for the better – Hume encouraged the performers to find real characters and this resulted in an overall strength of conception and phenomenal dramatic tension rarely seen on New Zealand stages. No strumpet or harridan, this Carmen was simply a woman who longed to act as she wished rather than fit into any man's conception of what a woman should be.
The opening scenes which often seem dramatically pointless in other performances, were here used as effective scene-setters. One could readily perceive the misogynistic world in which the opera takes place through the sometimes slightly surrealised movements on stage. Having a very unwilling dancer performing for the men at the opening of the Chanson bohème, followed by the phenomenon of a "free" Carmen and friends making the tavern's men cower before them, showed further Hume’s intention of not shying away from these issues. Chorus scenes were often stylised – one striking example was the opening to Act 4, where the usual marketsellers became a swirling circle of humanity through which Don José struggled to move, effectively evoking his alienation at that moment. Throughout, every movement, every action, seemed utterly natural, making Don José's moments of physical violence against Carmen all the more shocking.
The finest singing of the evening came from Micaëla, Emma Pearson. At first her very pretty but rather light voice made a pleasing effect with its pearly higher register in the duet with Don José, but one was unprepared for the gain in amplitude of tone and dramatic engagement in her big third act aria. Along with a fine attack on the climaxes, she brought a sense of fervid desperation both vocally and in her facial expressions. Escamillo is a killer of a part, high for a bass but with sections uncomfortably low for a baritone. James Clayton coped well with particularly ringing high notes. He benefited too from the staging’s banishment of toreador clichés, allowing him to create a genuinely charming but forceful character.
The mostly New Zealand singers in the smaller roles all sang and acted well, with special mention needed for Amelia Berry’s fearless ascents to Frasquita’s frequent high notes in ensemble. The vibrant chorus sang splendidly in their every appearance. Despite some unfortunate brass playing in the prelude, not much criticism could be made of the orchestra, with the woodwind in particular shining in their solos at the opening of the third act. Conductor Francesco Pasqualetti took most of the score fleetly, but importantly knows how to let the music breathe, how to give his singers the flexibility they need to make maximum effect.