The visitor knows something is afoot when he views the painted show curtain – a decomposing head of an animal – or maybe even a human – with maggots here and there, one eye staring out, the sinewy flesh stripped of all skin, bare bone and cartilage showing in vivid life-like colours. A horror picture for sensitive souls! Curtain up and the next unappetizing picture comes, with Carmen sitting in her red frilly dress on the steps of the bullring, smoking a cigarette, a bull hanging over her. The imagery is clear: Carmen will end up like this bull.
Norwegian stage director Ole Anders Tandberg places the action on a revolving stage. At times, Erlend Birkeland's round staircase construction is the cigar factory, the mountainous landscape of the contrabandists and, of course, the bullring. Creaking, the set always seems to turn when it can disturb the music most. Tandberg lets the action take place in a fictitious time, in a fictitious place. Together with costume designer Maria Geber, they have come up with some ideas: México is sometimes hinted at with it’s "Day of the Dead" processions, but then male extras in long black women's dresses and elaborate Spanish mantillas with black handbags strut across the stage. Carmen, Mercédès and Frasquita wear identical dresses, in a style even seen nowadays at festival time in Seville. The dignity of a Toreador like Escamillo is ridiculed by his – authentic – bright yellow satin costume, making him into a clown-like figure.
In Tandberg’s production, Carmen is the leader of a band of human organ-dealers. To the tune of the soulful Act 3 Intermezzo, a large group of blindfolded and gagged hostages sit on the steps and are silently shot only to be cut up and their usable organs torn out. As a result, the "fortune-telling" trio becomes a parody – kidneys, hearts and whatever other organs may be of use, are played with, trying to divine what their future may bring. This is neither funny nor appetizing in any sense, ethically, musically or dramatically. After this scene, it is not surprising to have Don José tearing out Carmen’s heart and holding it up as a trophy after he stabs her at the end. But then, that’s the way it goes with parodies. Everything is drawn into the grotesque.