The ultimate test: Carmen at the ROH
Carmen
Royal Opera
Royal Opera House
Stalls B11, £15 (staff offer)
16 July 2019
ROH page
After enjoying Barrie Kosky’s Carmen so much when I first saw it I perhaps held fire a little too long before encountering it again, jumping in towards the end of what feels like the umpteenth run with leads I’ve never heard of. A test of a production if ever there were one.
I’m disappointed I didn’t enjoy the production more; like with watching Richard Jones’s Boris Godunov the second time round I’ve got a vague dread that the punch of Kosky’s revolutionary ideas dissipates on digestion, and that if you’re not thinking about the ways it’s making you rethink the opera, there might not be that much left.
To be fair, the production’s cause is derailed by the cast, who would be nobody’s first choice. Anaïk Morel is in many ways a wonderful Carmen, with richness where she needs it, a weighted grounding that secures each note and access to a light and elegant style. But, perhaps underrehearsed as the last of many casts within a run, she looks uneasy in Kosky’s concept – neither allowed to execute the traditional Carmen I’m sure she could do admirably, nor enabled to unlock the different plane of meaning Kosky has introduced.
Morel’s discomfort is only made more acute by her José, Arnold Rutkowski, who turns in one of the worst professional performances I’ve seen. His posture bodes ill from the start, communicating so completely a desire not to be there that were it intentional it would be masterful. Vocal warnings sound early on, Rutkowski always quiet and at the top awry in timbre, rhythm and pitch. Breaking point, literally, is reached in the Flower Aria, where he falls completely off the note, having to end valiantly in falsetto. That he deserves credit for completing the aria gives you an idea of its catastrophe. Watching him through the rest of the opera was like watching an ordeal and I shared his obvious relief when it finally ended. Not his night, and I can only hope it can be attributed to severe mitigating circumstances.
So with a Carmen who looks lost and a José who can’t sing this is a test indeed for any production. Phillip Rhodes as Escamillo doesn’t leave much impression; Ailyn Pérez as Micaëla looks like she’s making the best of a bad decision. The orchestra under Christopher Willis are fine, good enough for a familiar score at the end of the season. The chorus look like they’ve had enough of running up and down those stairs but sound in good voice. The small troupe of dancers is again stunning. And ultimately I suppose Kosky’s production passes the test: even if it didn’t light up the stage this time, I’d still take it over its hoary Zambello predecessor.
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