If we were not still stuck in the dilemmas Mérimée and Bizet point to, we would not be witnessing the endless stream of Carmen productions on stage, film, and TV.

(Susan McClary, 1992)

It is noteworthy that two of the operas in Opera Australia’s current season, Bizet’s Carmen and Puccini’s La Bohème, are among the five most performed operas, perhaps only rivaled by Verdi’s La Traviata. The website Operabase, viewed by many as the most authoritative opera performance information site, lists these three with Mozart’s The Magic Flute and Puccini’s Tosca as the top five. Director Peter Brook, when asked in 1983 about his choice to stage a new Carmen rather than any other opera, observed: ‘Out of the ten most popular operas, there is one that is the most popular – Carmen. And it’s not only an opera; it’s a phenomenon.’

Tchaikovsky, presciently commenting on Carmen in Paris in 1876, a year after its less-than-stellar première, maintained: ‘I am convinced that within some ten years or so Carmen will be the most popular opera in the world.’ He perceived a mythical element in the opera which launched, as Nelly Forman notes, ‘a cultural industry bearing the unofficial trademark of Carmen’s name’. If opera’s origins are in mythology, Carmen might well be regarded as the only opera that has created its own enduring myth.

The protean figure of Carmen has enjoyed a life of her own for well over one hundred years. An academic project charting the use of the character in film lists over eighty adaptations by 2007. There have been several since then; the character just keeps on giving. In fact, 1983 saw three major filmmakers – the Italian Francesco Rosi, the Spanish Carlos Saura, and the French-Swiss Jean-Luc Godard – using the subject matter (1983 was the year that the librettist’s copyright lapsed). Robert Townsend’s Carmen: A hip hopera (2001) launched the career of the singer Beyoncé. An outstanding film version, U-Carmen eKhayelitsha (2005), was shot on location in a township near Cape Town, and saw the characters sing Bizet’s score in Xhosa, a language with distinctive and evocative clicks. Unlike many other film versions, this production relies on Bizet’s score but with interruptions from local singing and dancing, adding vivid colour as well as interesting political and social perspectives.

Many of these films reveal how the interest in and approaches to this subject matter have changed over the decades in various parts of the world, and they frequently offer perspectives which diverge from the dominant stage versions of the story. This is all a long way from the opera’s origins in French writer Prosper Mérimée’s 1845 novella. Bizet and his librettists, Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy, used only one part of the novella, eliminating the travelogue and adventure sections as well as much of the misogyny and racism, while adding several new characters.

Opera Australia’s new production, slated for a long series of performances in both Sydney and Melbourne, is directed by Anne-Louise Sarks, Artistic Director of the Melbourne Theatre Company. The production includes set and costume designs by Marg Horwell, lighting by Paul Jackson, and choreography by Shannon Burns. The action is set in contemporary Spain but with few of the standard Spanish clichés and tropes that characterise, but sometimes distract, in many productions.

The four acts each have a prominent cross somewhere on stage – this is Catholic Spain after all. The first act takes place in front of a mesh fence adorned with lovers’ locks and ribbons, people in decidedly grungy costumes mill about, moodily observed by bored soldiers. Act Two is a riot of colourful and evocative costumes festooned with sequins and sparkling bling, with Lillas Pastia’s tavern itself overwhelmed by kitschy religious iconography. This forms a dramatic contrast with the starkly empty stage for the smuggler hideout above the town, lit by bare neon lights in Act Three. The final act is a small dressing room for bull fighter Escamillo, full of bouquets of flowers and foreboding. The production has energy and much wit, flowing smoothly with surging momentum to its inevitable conclusion. Occasionally, there is a little too much visual distraction from the core events, and the not over-large stage of the Joan Sutherland Theatre felt cluttered in Act Two, but as Anne-Louise Sarks’s first major opera production it bodes well for future success in the art form.

Danielle de Niese as Carmen and Richard Anderson as Zuniga (photograph by Keith Saunders)

Celebrated Australian-born soprano Danielle de Niese as Carmen was, for me, the revelation in this production. Having heard her in a variety of productions over the years, outstanding particularly in baroque opera and Mozart, I wondered whether the requisite sultry mezzo quality so characteristic of fine exponents of Carmen would be outside the scope of her very attractive, bright, silvery voice. I knew she would bring the requisite allure, powerful physicality, and seductive magnetism which she has frequently demonstrated in a wide variety of repertoire, but I had heard her mainly engage with much lighter vocal challenges so it was most pleasing to hear a good range of tonal colours and nuance in her vocal performance, her musicality always evident in beautifully shaped vocal lines. From the opening swagger of the Habanera it was immediately apparent that this would be a vibrant and richly hued vocal performance, and the ‘big’ moments in the role offered a wide variety of textures. This was a Carmen with agency and a powerful physical presence, defying all obstacles in her path, which made the inevitable trajectory of the opera even more poignant and senseless.

Mexican tenor Abraham Bretón was a fine Don José with a warm middle register and bright, ringing top allied to an attractive stage presence. His vocal performance grew in confidence through the emotional arc of the opera, highlighted in Act Two by a sweet toned, yet powerful, rendition of ‘La fleur que tu m’avais jetée’. Vocally and physically he fully embodied the desperation in the final act leading to the tragic denouement; no knife here, but strangulation, which made the horror of the sudden but always predictable physical violence even more appalling.

Soprano Jennifer Black was a full-voiced Micaëla; less the pure innocent of many productions, but a character with determination and burning desire to help José. Her major aria in Act Three, ‘Je dis que rien ne m’épouvante’, was sung with musicality and limpidly flowing tone, displaying her courage and vulnerability.

Although he has the most recognizable showstopper in the opera, ‘Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre’ (the Toreador song), Escamillo is a role that can disappoint in performance. It sometimes lies quite low for a baritone, rather high for a bass, also requiring film-star looks and oodles of charisma. This type of alpha male operatic character is rather vulgarly characterised in the business as an ‘all prick and vocal chords’ kind of role! Ukrainian baritone Andrii Kymach has plenty of rich, yet steely resonant tone, and made short work of the high notes although the voice very occasionally lacks some flexibility; in many ways his was the most impressive vocal performance of the night. He has a physically imposing stage presence but perhaps needed more of the easy, suavely arrogant swagger of the role.

Opera Australia Dancers (photograph by Keith Saunders)

The other parts were uniformly well cast. Among the friends of Carmen, Jane Ede was Frasquita and Helen Sherman was Mercédès – both particularly fine, making the most of their important solo moments as well as their vital contribution to the quartet of smugglers. Their counterparts were played and sung with humour and verve by Kanen Breen (as El Remendado) and Luke Gabbedy (as El Dancairo). Andrew Moran was a debonaire, if occasionally exasperated, Moralès, while Richard Anderson a severe, sonorous Zuniga.

Lidiya Yankovskaya conducted with a sure sense of French style, allowing Bizet’s melodic fecundity to bloom with expressive playing by the Opera Australia orchestra. Just sometimes, some of her tempi were on the slow side, allowing the momentum to sag. The chorus, as usual, was in fine form – what an absolutely dependable and outstanding resource they are for Opera Australia – complemented by a perky and enjoyable contribution from the Children’s Chorus.

So, another Carmen takes the stage – the latest in an endless line of productions. This version has been billed as ‘a Carmen for the 21^st Century’, and as Nelly Forman notes, ‘The persistence of the Carmen myth through time and across media, cultures, and continents indicates that its plot can accommodate many variations in the development of its narrative. For while the plot may be commonplace, it is the treatment of a cliché that turns banality into art.’ Opera Australia has gathered together a fine cast and creative team for this long run of performances with many changes in the vocal lineup. It is the production of a canonical opera such as this that is crucial for the future health and viability of opera in Australia, drawing together an excellent combination of local and overseas performers and setting a high standard for future work.

Carmen (Opera Australia) continues until 19 September 2025. Performance attended: July 12.