Carmen is one of the most popular operas of all time, featuring recognisable tunes (‘Habanera’, ‘Toreador Song’) and a beautiful, exotic and rough leading lady who is horrifically murdered by her jealous ex-lover when she rejects him for another man. It’s also one of the most adapted and readapted operas – with productions around the world changing the setting, the story, the language, and other aspects to try and remedy its harmful portrayals of Romani people, Spain and women, and take back the story.
Opera Australia’s newest outdoor production, directed by Liesel Badorrek with set and costumes by Mark Thompson, replaces the 1820s Spanish setting with a rock’n’roll aesthetic, not in a particular time but instead “a cultural space… an attitude… an aesthetic of rebellion” (according to the Director’s Note). This translates to a shipping container stage perched on the cinematic, industrial surrounds of Cockatoo Island (a 15-minute ferry ride from the city). In addition to the pop-up bars and eateries, the set-up features huge oil barrels, wrecked cars, and large, red fluorescent letters spelling out “CARMEN” across the top of the light riggings. There’s also fireworks (just after the ‘Toreador’, part-way through the second act), motorbikes dressed up as bulls, an abundance of prop cigarettes, and even a ute that carries off chorus members in one scene.
The 'aesthetic' of rock’n’roll here is only that, an aesthetic
This Carmen preserves Ludovic Halévy and Henri Meilhav’s libretto and Georges Bizet’s music pretty much in its entirety. Carmen Topciu (alternating the role with Sian Sharp) sings a sassy, confident, pants-and-corseted Carmen, alongside Roberto Aronica’s leather-jacket clad and richly sung Don José (alternating with Diego Torre). Daniel Sumegi (alternating with Alexander Sefton) as an aviator-wearing, Elvis-esque Escamillo gives the standout performance – a charismatic and powerful bass-baritone. Unfortunately, the amplification and sound quality didn’t always do justice to the singers’ voices, especially the chorus. Shannon Burns’ choreography is a notable highlight, which on its own is an interesting contrast to the seamlessly conducted soaring flutes and strings of the Entr’acte, but otherwise is at odds with the rest of the production.
The “aesthetic” of rock’n’roll here is only that, an aesthetic. The fireworks, motorbikes and stuntmanship – in tandem with the mohawks, mismatched leggings, rockabilly dresses and coloured hair – are a commercial appropriation of rock and punk music’s attitudes, which have their own complex history. It ends up feeling completely disconnected from any cohesive attitude of true rebellion or difference.
Carmen wears pants, yes, but she still enthusiastically agrees “quand il s'agit de tromperie, de duperie, de volerie, il est toujours bon, sur ma foi, d'avoir les femmes avec soi”. Translation: “when it’s a question of trickery, of deception, of thieving, it’s always good, I swear, to have women around”. (A young opera-goer sitting in front of me gasped and took a photo of the surtitles when this line appeared on-screen.) Carmen’s costuming is much like Rizzo’s in Grease, juxtaposed with Micaela’s baby blue, blonde-wigged Sandy-esque costume – a visual entrenchment of the Madonna-Whore dichotomy between them.
Carmen’s ‘Card Aria’ (‘En vain pour éviter’) features the titular character reading her fortune from a deck of cards, finding they predict death for her over and over. In this production the cards are plain, large and cartoonish, and a giant “rock’n’roll-style” queen of hearts card is projected behind her. It removes any visual reference to more traditional tarot cards – this is perhaps one of this production’s attempts to avoid harmful cultural stereotypes, but this instead feels like a whitewash. ‘Chanson Bohème’ (‘Gypsy Song’) is transposed into a rock concert of sorts, but bells like those on a coin-adorned traditional Romani skirt still jangle in the background as the libretto describes “copper and silver rings glittering on dark skins”.
Towards the final scene, a large warning is projected across the stage; it reads “this production contains depictions of violence against women” as Carmen is strangled to death with a red scarf. Too late in the piece to serve as an authentic trigger warning, this stylistic choice is borderline insulting to the audience, and to Carmen. It is worth noting that there is no dramaturg or cultural consultant listed in the program.
By catering to opera purists, while at the same time trying to invite new audiences and opera progressives with the promise of rock rebellion and motorbikes, this production of Carmen runs the risk of pleasing no one and discredits opera’s ability to be a radical, intensely moving and important artform. It fails to engage with the libretto and the stereotypes the story depends on in any meaningful way, and the “timeless” setting only makes the problems more obvious. It’s a shame that Opera Australia, one of the country's most well-funded arts companies, has wasted this opportunity to create something more radical. There’s just nothing punk about misogynistic and racist stereotypes, no matter how many mohawks you dress them in.
Make up your own mind! Carmen on Cockatoo Island runs until December 18, 2022. Full priced adult tickets start at $79-$149. Book your tickets here. (Tip: Check the TodayTix app for rush tickets for as little as $45.) You can also book a 30-minute pre-show tour of Cockatoo Island here ($15 pp) and find out more about overnight accommodation packages here.