Carmen can justifiably lay claim to be the world’s 
          most popular opera. As director David McVicar points out in one of the 
          revealing documentary extras on this excellent BBC release, it ‘is probably 
          the first musical, with hit tune after hit tune’. He’s right, but as 
          his own thought-provoking production makes amply clear, it is so much 
          more than that, having deep psychological layers that he teases out 
          very effectively. He has (rightly in my opinion) opted for a colourful, 
          naturalistic production, with costumes and sets all conveying the correct 
          period and general feel; no stylised or ‘concept’ nonsense to distract 
          the viewer. This leaves him clear to get the cast to really act and 
          get under the skin of the complex characters that inhabit the work. 
          This makes for a riveting dramatic experience, with the many famous 
          melodies and set pieces all in proper context. There is an erotic charge 
          running through many of the exchanges of the principals, and McVicar 
          sees sexual frustration as the key to many of these characters’ problems. 
          This may have led to raised eyebrows at Glyndebourne, but it does make 
          a lot of sense, given the ultimate events of the tragedy. He also opts 
          to include the original spoken dialogue rather than the spurious recitatives, 
          another aspect that works remarkably well. It fleshes the story out 
          properly instead of holding up the action until the next big tune, as 
          one might suspect it would. 
        
 
        
So full marks for not messing with Bizet’s general 
          instructions too much. Praise must also be heaped on the London Philharmonic, 
          who respond magnificently to the flamboyant young maestro, Philippe 
          Jordan (any relation to Armin, I wonder?). His energy and physical intensity, 
          which is visibly there for all to see in the hectic, brilliant prelude 
          (where he resembles Escamillo!), communicates through to the orchestra 
          at every turn, and Bizet’s wonderful scoring is heard in all its glory. 
          One could cite numerous examples, but hear particularly the characterful 
          wind solos of the Act 2 Entr’acte, or the beautifully weighted brass 
          chords that punctuate the famous ‘Toreador Song’, helping one to appreciate 
          the harmony afresh. It really is a superb aural-only experience, the 
          Gallic lightness making one understand why Richard Strauss once advised 
          young composers learning orchestration to study Bizet’s scores, not 
          Wagner’s. 
        
 
        
So the reported controversy surrounding this production 
          appears to be wholly related to the central casting. Here we have one 
          of the world’s finest mezzos seemingly cast against type. Anne Sofie 
          von Otter herself admits that she may not be everyone’s idea of the 
          ideal Carmen – "too tall, Nordic and cool", as she puts it, 
          and remembering great Carmens of the past (Berganza, de los Angeles, 
          Price, Migenes etc.) she does have a point. All I can say is that she 
          seemed to me wholly convincing, sporting a blazing auburn wig to help 
          with the gypsy look (plus Sue Blane’s magnificent costumes) and acting 
          and singing with such conviction that criticism was all but silenced. 
          McVicar and von Otter have obviously worked on other aspects of the 
          character, and rather than the smouldering wildcat, we get a more mature 
          portrayal of a woman who can, as the director has it "eat men whole 
          – and laugh while she’s doing it". She is a woman desperately seeking 
          love, a free spirit that simply needs the right partner. This really 
          does make the final tragedy all the more poignant, because we really 
          believe that she has at last found the right person in Escamillo, but, 
          as the cards tell her, fate has something else in store for her. The 
          famous routines are all superbly choreographed, and she raises a laugh 
          from the audience as she manages the second verse of her ‘Seguidilla’ 
          while lighting a cigar, quite a feat! 
        
 
        
Her Don José, American tenor Marcus Haddock, 
          also gives a multi-layered portrayal, and his character probably develops 
          more than any other. He constantly reminds us that this is a man hiding 
          many demons, not least the fact that he killed a man in a duel, so we 
          begin to realise early on what he is capable of. There is also the shadow 
          of his mother, who we learn wanted him to become a priest (all this 
          is in the invaluable spoken dialogue), so he is an unstable individual. 
          His beautifully sung ‘Flower Song’ is not just a showstopper, but tinged 
          with all the psychological baggage of a haunted man. The final confrontation 
          with Carmen is riveting, with the fatal stabbing ghastly but not in 
          the least melodramatic. This is believable verismo. 
        
 
        
As Escamillo, Laurent Naouri is also encouraged to 
          act with some subtlety, to enjoy his big moments but give us some character 
          insight. Thus his oft-heard ‘Toreador Song’ is punctuated by glances 
          towards Carmen, who responds with knowing eye contact (obviously the 
          camera close-up helps here), and an immediate chemistry is established. 
          His is less a testosterone-fuelled macho man than a virile counterpart 
          to Carmen herself; one can actually believe they would have made a satisfied 
          couple. 
        
 
        
The Micaëlla, Lisa Milne, is a touch matronly 
          for me, but I suppose we have to believe in her as the saintly sister 
          figure, and while I miss some of the fragility of others in this part, 
          she sings beautifully and makes a good contrast to Carmen. All the smaller 
          parts are taken with real relish, and I particularly liked Jonathan 
          Best’s Zuniga. Costumes, as mentioned, are stunning, with the stage 
          for the final act dominated by black and a symbolic blood red. The dancing 
          is a delight, sexy and energetic, and stage designs (by Michael Vale) 
          atmospheric yet practical. 
        
 
        
The extras on the double DVD set are worth having. 
          There are revealing interviews with director and principals, as well 
          as substantial individual features on music, costume, choreography and 
          stage fighting. There is an illustrated synopsis, cast gallery and a 
          ten-minute feature on the famous Glyndebourne garden. Having loaded 
          the discs with the extras, the booklet is devoted to a specially commissioned 
          reworking of the Carmen libretto by Jeanette Winterson, entitled ‘The 
          World Beyond’, a moving and worthwhile updating of the basic story. 
        
 
        
Whether you want to fork out for two full price discs 
          may depend totally on your idea of the casting of the eponymous heroine. 
          When this was broadcast last year, some of my colleagues thought von 
          Otter so wrong they couldn’t watch it through to the end. While I accept 
          she may not be what is expected visually, I think it is short-sighted 
          to not see the whole package. Carmen does dominate, but there is an 
          awful lot going on around her, and David McVicar has managed quite the 
          most intelligent, believable opera production I’ve seen for some time. 
          This is ensemble directing at its best. With von Otter (and everyone 
          else, for that matter) in absolutely superb voice, accompanied by gloriously 
          inspired orchestral playing, this is a musical and visual feast. Sue 
          Judd’s subtle camera work helps the television experience. The BBC packaging 
          is first rate, making an altogether outstanding record of a thrilling 
          event.   
        
Tony Haywood