Any new recording of Carmen is up against stiff competition 
                  and in so crowded a field it is often difficult to pick a clear 
                  winner. There are so many factors that contribute to one’s final 
                  verdict and personal preferences play their part. 
                  
                  With Carmen we have the question of what version it is. 
                  Nowadays the one with Guiraud’s recitatives that was prepared 
                  after Bizet’s death for the Vienna premiere, is largely out 
                  of vogue, even though some stages, notably the Metropolitan 
                  in New York, stick to it. The present recording follows the 
                  Choudens edition with spoken dialogue but with three numbers 
                  from the Schott version. Most important of those is the duel 
                  duet from act three which is much longer and dramatically makes 
                  more sense. Otherwise it is a fairly middle-of-the-road version 
                  with the spoken dialogue rather curtailed – no great loss, I 
                  think. It keeps the drama on the go. 
                  
                  It’s a distinct advantage to have a French chorus and orchestra. 
                  The secondary roles are also cast with native speakers. This 
                  lends authenticity as it also does to the classic Beecham recording. 
                  On the other hand Abbado’s DG recording, based on the famous 
                  Edinburgh production from the late 1970s, has British forces 
                  and comprimarios and it ranks with the best. But there is no 
                  denying that the smugglers’ quintet and the card scene gain 
                  by being sung in the actors’ mother-tongue. And the first solo 
                  voice we hear, corporal Morales, immediately makes us feel at 
                  home in the idiom. Jean-Luc Ballestra has a very French timbre. 
                  
                  
                  Myung-Whun Chung, though no Frenchman, has a good grip on the 
                  proceedings, chooses sensible tempos throughout and creates 
                  a translucent sound picture. Bizet’s exquisite scoring is well 
                  illuminated. He also has a nice feel for the rhythms: the opening 
                  to act III is springy and arouses enthusiasm. The chorus and 
                  orchestra are good without being able to erase memories of the 
                  Abbado recording – or Beecham’s from fifty years back. No, not 
                  quite. As can be seen from the header the present recording 
                  was made in 2005 and one must wonder why it has had to wait 
                  in the archives for so long. Are there any serious hang-ups? 
                  
                  
                  Well, to my ears the sound is a bit aggressive and there are 
                  even signs of overload in a couple of places. Nothing serious 
                  but when listening through headphones I was a little startled. 
                  But this doesn’t rule out the performance. 
                  
                  When it comes to the singing of the principals I was not wholly 
                  satisfied. Thierry Felix is an uncharacteristically weak and 
                  lyrical Zuniga. He should be a formidable character but here 
                  he almost apologizes for his presence and his spoken dialogue 
                  is lifeless – it seems he is just reading his lines from the 
                  score. Frasquita and Mercedes are his very opposite: involved, 
                  expressive and with distinctive voices. 
                  
                  Eva Mei has the right glittering timbre for Micaela but her 
                  vibrato has widened and the voice seems heavier than the ideal. 
                  She is however varied and nuanced in the first act duet and 
                  sings with great warmth in her aria in act III. 
                  
                  I am a great admirer of Bryn Terfel but I won’t pretend that 
                  he is an ideal Escamillo. His voice is decidedly more Germanic 
                  than French-sounding. The toreador song lacks the grandeur and 
                  flair of, say, Tom Krause, who recorded it twice – for Schippers 
                  and Bernstein – and who has become my touchstone. Terfel has 
                  a lot of charming nuances and in the duel scene he shows his 
                  dramatic mettle, while in the short confrontation with Carmen 
                  in the last act he caresses Si tu m’aimes, Carmen convincingly. 
                  I must admit, though, that I still have yet to hear a bass-baritone 
                  singing it more enchantingly than Heinz Rehfuss on my old Concert 
                  Hall recording. 
                  
                  The star of this recording is supposed to be Andrea Bocelli, 
                  though I think it’s perverse to highlight his name in comparatively 
                  gigantic capital letters on the front cover, while Marina Domashenko’s 
                  is reduced to lower-case letters. His first appearance isn’t 
                  too promising. In the duet with Micaela he sings at forte all 
                  the time – though admittedly with glorious tone and he does 
                  end it stylishly at pianissimo. 
                  
                  He grows in the second act and sings the flower song sensitively, 
                  but the very close recording lends an aggressive edge to the 
                  voice. The tone is still monochrome but he is certainly involved 
                  and sings with a glow that could be compared to Pavarotti’s 
                  in his early days. Best of all, without doubt, is the final 
                  duet where he grows to heroic proportions, from a restrained, 
                  very human opening to an impassioned and finally utterly desperate 
                  character. Domingo and Gedda in their respective ways are still 
                  unsurpassed but Bocelli’s is a worthy reading. 
                  
                  More than that is Marina Domashenko’s assumption of the title 
                  role. Her habanera is alluring and sexy, even more so in the 
                  scene that precedes the seguidilla and the seguidilla itself. 
                  This is a Carmen that lives every second of her role and her 
                  dark and grand voice makes her a formidable gypsy. It seems 
                  that Bocelli is inspired by her and sings with fresher voice 
                  than ever before. The gypsy song in act II is again very alive 
                  and in the duet in the same act her dark feelings come to the 
                  fore. This is further underlined in the card scene, where she 
                  pronounces Carreau! Pique! with chilling accuracy. She 
                  already knows her fate. In the final act she is defiant and 
                  dominating, spitting out her Tiens! when she throws the 
                  ring at Don José. Victoria de los Angeles and Teresa Berganza 
                  have made subtler readings of the role and Callas is maybe even 
                  more formidable, but Domashenko is more than worthy to be in 
                  their company and is the possessor of a magnificent voice, even 
                  throughout the register and of great beauty. 
                  
                  Marina Domashenko requires to be heard in this role and though 
                  this recording as a total experience doesn’t sweep the field 
                  it has a lot to recommend it. 
                  
                  Göran Forsling