Carmen: at the Aotea Centre

By WILLIAM DART


Jonathan Cocker's production of Carmen for NBR New Zealand Opera certainly bewitches the eye.

John Verryt's sets have never been more evocative, particularly the atmospheric rock-faces of Act III, tempered by Marc Simpson's skilful light play. Elizabeth Whiting's costumes, as deftly designed as ever, deliberately hold back the Spanish dazzle for the grand finale.

The Auckland Philharmonia, under Emmanuel Plasson, launches the evening "giocoso" (in a merry style) as Bizet requested and, a few rough patches aside, catches the shifting moods of the piece. All of which complements a spirited contribution from the Chapman Tripp Opera Chorus.

American mezzo Jessie Raven knows Carmen well and has stage presence to burn. She has a warm, generous voice although more clarity would have made words register more effectively. Set pieces, particularly the Habanera and her castanetted come-on to Don Jose, work well, although her Seguidillas needs a sharper tempo.

If Micaela is to be a dramatic foil for Raven's high-energy Carmencita, then Jenny Wollerman, affecting in the early scenes, needs to tone down the stridency in Je dis, que rien ne m'epouvante, one of the most touching arias in the French lyric repertoire.

Emma Pearson's Mercedes and Joanne Cole's Frasquita have their characters to a tee, pitting cards and wits in their Melons! Coupons!

On the male side, Roger Wilson's Morales launches the evening with just the right swagger, John Antoniou is a firm-voiced Zuniga, and Brendon Mercer and Robert Stewart offer solid support and are the core of an energetic quintet.

Rafael Davila's Don Jose, alas, is a liability. For such a young tenor, only a few years on the circuit, his voice has an unpleasant cutting edge. His responses to Carmen's Seguidillas were painful to the ears, and his Flower Song did not deserve the applause a charitable first-night audience gave it.

Escamillo may be one of the macho bores of opera, but he should exude more magnetism than Pauls Putnins managed, and sing with more mellifluous ardour than was apparent in the singer's Act 4 duet with Carmen.

The dilemma of whether to tackle this opera with spoken dialogue or Guiraud's later recitatives comes to mind early in the evening, as the spoken French, on the whole, is pedestrian, with a prodigious range of accents.

Yet for all this, Cocker does sustain the essential drive of this opera noir, from a chorus line of cigarette girls that could well draw a protest from Smokefree New Zealand, through to the final confrontation of Don Jose and Carmen.

This finale, with harsh lighting and garish colours, and the stage reduced to letterbox format, catches the essential truth of Bizet's opera. Raven and Davila play it to the hilt, and the final dramatic intrusion of the real world on to the tragic tableau is chillingly handled.