
On the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Carmen, Bizet’s opera comes to life on the stage of Al-Bustan Festival in an intimate version by Peter Brook. Anita Rachvelishvili, as Carmen, captivates with her charisma and vocal power, embodying a heroine consumed by her passions. Eduardo Niave, a poignant Don José, delivers a performance full of nuances, while Maria Zapata and Gabriel Alonso provide a beautiful complement to the vocal quartet. Gianluca Marcianò’s conducting, understated yet effective, offers an emotional and coherent interpretation of the work.
On the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Carmen, the famous opera by Georges Bizet (1838-1875) is once again at the heart of the musical stage, carried by the image of a heroine who both fascinates and unsettles. Far from being the mistress of her fate, Carmen—an exaggerated symbol of female freedom and emancipation—finds herself captive to her own destiny, a willing victim of her consuming passions. She is also a victim of the society she desperately seeks to escape. It is in a spirit of exploring the essence of the drama that British-French director Peter Brook sought to revisit Bizet's masterpiece in 1981 with La Tragédie de Carmen. He attempts, albeit with difficulty, to distill the plot down to its most fundamental elements. While reducing the score to a chamber ensemble and eliminating the choir enhances the intimate dimension and plunges the drama into a rawer urgency, this simplification nevertheless deprives the work of the sonic richness that gives it its grandeur.
Presented on March 8 at Al-Bustan Festival, this version relies on the expressive intensity of its performers. Georgian mezzo-soprano Anita Rachvelishvili lends Carmen her charismatic timbre, facing Mexican tenor Eduardo Niave, a heart-wrenching Don José torn between passion and despair. Spanish soprano Maria Zapata (Micaëla) and Spanish baritone Gabriel Alonso (Escamillo) complete this quartet with finesse, contributing to the balance of the staging. While La Tragédie de Carmen does not replace Bizet's sprawling masterpiece, it reveals a more austere facet, driven toward the inevitable.
Wild Sensuality
From her entrance, Anita Rachvelishvili imposes a Carmen of magnetic presence. Her timbre, warm enough to burn, shapes each phrase with wild sensuality, carried by a natural legato and impeccable diction. Every note seems to tear itself from an inner blaze. Her Habanera shivers with feline tremors, caressing before biting, but it is in the Séguedille and Chanson bohème that her virtuosity fully bursts forth. Her singing becomes incandescent: each inflection crackles, bursts and consumes, leaving behind a trail of burning embers. Indomitable, the Carmen she brings to the stage seizes the sonic space, relegating anyone daring to approach her to the shadow of her flamboyance. Her vocal qualities, however refined, could not have flourished fully without this synergy with her striking expressiveness—a rare and precious harmony. To shine alongside her is an achievement in itself.
And yet, opposite her, Eduardo Niave plays a Don José deeply marked by raw emotion and feverish determination. The tenor demonstrates a fine command of dynamic contrasts. In La fleur que tu m'avais jetée, he highlights the richness of nuances between soft passages and more intense bursts, expressing alternately tenderness and frustration, at times with great delicacy, at others with dramatic power. However, what most marks his performance is the modulation of vocal colors. Don José indeed passes through several intense emotional states, from the sweetness of love to the brutality of jealousy. Niave does not hesitate to explore various registers, adjusting his voice's color: first clear and soft, then darker and tenser as the story progresses and his character deteriorates. In the final duet, his high notes, projected with irrepressible dramatic force, turn his downfall into a moment of pure tragedy.
Dramatic Intensity
Overall, the performances of Maria Zapata (Micaëla) and Gabriel Alonso (Escamillo) make solid contributions to the vocal quartet of Carmen. Zapata performs Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante and the duet Parle-moi de ma mère, among others, with great precision. Her voice, clear but sometimes biting, perfectly reflects the sincerity and vulnerability of her character, while also conveying the intensity of her feelings, especially in moments where an emotional declaration of love becomes essential. Alonso, for his part, embodies Escamillo with remarkable ease, particularly in the aria Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre (Couplets du toréador), where his baritone voice impresses with its stature. His timbre, of great beauty, possesses a richness that perfectly serves the character of the torero. However, he sometimes gets carried away by the orchestral flow, weakening the projection of certain nuances and reducing the theatrical and sensual impact of the character, which would have benefited from more vocal control to maintain a stronger tension.
Musical Expertise
Gianluca Marcianò demonstrates his musical expertise and thorough understanding of the work, leading an orchestra made up of Lebanese and international musicians. He opts for a gesture free of embellishment, avoiding any form of ostentation, allowing only refined movements. Although the orchestra takes some time to release the energy expected from such a score, it ultimately manages to make the whole sound like a coherent instrument, offering moments of pure beauty and emotion. Special mention goes to the string instruments, particularly the violin and viola, which displayed absolute mastery throughout the piece. Also worth mentioning is Swedish flutist Elisabeth Nilsson, who particularly stood out with an excellent performance, especially in Le Mariage gitan, where the various instrumental dialogues flowed with exquisite fluidity. And to top it all off, the brass... they never sounded so good in Lebanon!
This concert is shining proof that opera has a rightful place in Lebanon. The palpable and sincere enthusiasm of the audience shows that investing in this field would not only be wise, but necessary.
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