The last time Bizet’s Carmen was performed in the Berliner Philharmonie was under Herbert von Karajan in 1985 – Agnes Baltsa, José Carreras, Janet Perry and José Van Dam in the leading roles, exactly as in Salzburg a couple of months later, albeit with the Vienna Philharmonic. This recording is one of the references in the discography, not exactly as a paragon of French style, but as a breathtaking tour de force from the Berliner Philharmoniker. This evening, the memory of Karajan seemed to be haunting the place. There we were – a concert performance from Carmen, as in Salzburg, with the venerable orchestra and star-studded cast, as in the old days. As much as Karajan, Simon Rattle seemed determined to inscribe his name in the history of performance of this opera. This was very much a symphonic performance, with the Berlin Philharmonic as the main soloist, dazzling the audience with the most exciting orchestral playing one will probably witness in his or her lifetime under the loving eye of a conductor who read the score afresh and unearthed everything that was there to be found. As much as I like Karajan’s recordings (all of them – the old ones with Giulietta Simionato and Nicolai Gedda, the film with the invincible Grace Bumbry and Jon Vickers and the above-mentioned Baltsa/Carreras), I am afraid that Rattle has gone even deeper in his understanding of this opera. The tempi are excitingly fast, except when singers need a bit more space for expression, the rhythms are irresistible, the tonal palette is surprisingly wide (some really earthy sounds from the Berliners), the passages supposed to be merely “exotic” seemed to spring from a performance of a zarzuela and some some moments were truly revelatory – for instance, the usually superficial quintette Nous avons en tête une affaire sounded almost Stravinskian in its kaleidoscopic instrumental effects and sharp rhythms, the entr’acte before act III refreshingly devoid of sentimentality and, in the “flower song”, there was nothing like a soloist and orchestral accompaniment: it was a collective musical statement, of surpassing beauty. I guess everyone in the Philharmonie will never have again the same pleasure on hearing Bizet’s most famous opera. If one does not concentrate too much in the singers.
Well, I actually wrote the last sentence to make some suspense. There is no tragedy to report here, but there was nonetheless room for improvement. When Carmen is referred to in the libretto as a bohémienne, I am sure that the idea was not the Czech Republic. All right, Magdalena Kozena is from Moravia and wouldn’t qualify anyway, but I am sure that my 12 or 13 readers are probably curious to know how she fared in this role. The fact that hers is a light and not big voice is not a novelty – Teresa Berganza, for instance, was a famous Carmen, and her repertoire was Rossini; Anne Sofie von Otter’s Carmens were not truly famous, but she did sing it, more than once etc etc. It must be said that Kozena has experience in French repertoire – I have seen her sing mélodies very commendably, she has sung Mélisande, Lazuli in Chabrier’s L’Étoile, French baroque music, she even recorded a CD with Marc Minkowski in which she sings one scene from Carmen. So, in a nutshell, she knows the style, the language and her voice has indeed gained in weight and size. Her middle-register was far more solid than I could have predicted and the low notes were almost all of them there, practically without the help of breaking into chest voice (what the French would probably consider “authentic”) and, differently from the last time I saw her (the above-mentioned L’Etoile), I didn’t hear the sort of constriction and brittleness that sometimes affected her singing when things got high and loud. It remains the fact that her voice in both ends of her range lack impact – she would often disappear in ensembles (the repeated “la mort” in the card scene would be overshadowed by Frasquita and Mercédès), and although she could hit exposed high notes all-right, maintaining them cost her a big effort. So she generally just touched them and either cut them short or filled-in the note value with downward portamento. The last scene had to be dealt with with some “acting with the voice”, but there weren’t any ugly sounds. So the question is – has the effort paid off? Well, she was a musicianly Carmen, her phrasing unusually elegant and truly rooted in French style (I mean – I guess, one would need a crystal ball to understand what the French consider “French style”), she has really given great deal of thought about the text and the music and, although her personality is not really close to what Carmen is, she tried to emulate a Carmen personality: hand on the hip, barefoot, throwing her chin up, swinging her hair, you name it. Berganza, for instance, who was really Spanish, never tried any of that – and her more libertarian than libertine Carmen fitted her bright, light elegant voice. But, to sum it up, yes, it was musicianly and the voice is beautiful – but, again, Tatiana Troyanos, for example, had all that – and the voice too. If you want a blond Carmen today, Elina Garanca, for instance, gets the job done far more easily. But it seems that if you are a mezzo, you basically cannot die without singing this role…
Jonas Kaufmann is a famous Don José – probably the finest today. He was not in excellent voice and his once fine attack of notes now is marred by pushing and the lacrhymosity is getting more and more pronounced. That did not prevent him from producing some big heroic acuti and also from singing with nuance, offering floating mezza voce in his duet with Micaela and, if his pianissimo on the high b flat was not smooth as it used to be, he does sing it (who else does these days?!). I have the impression that the frequentation of heavier roles is making the experience of singing roles like this less fun than it used to be – no wonder he couldn’t resist to sing his “Ma Carmen adorée” “before the time” and call it a day…
Baritone Kostas Smoriginas too produced some big heroic high notes and, almost as everyone else, found the role at times too low-lying. I only found it puzzling that his was the less “attractive” voice among the pleasant-toned (and very good) low-voice singers this evening – Christian van Horn (Zuniga), Andrè Schuen (Moralès) and Simone del Savio (Dancaïro). His French is perfectible too (Rattle used the Oeser edition – although Jean-Paul Fouchécourt was the only native speaker in the cast, the level of pronunciation was generally high, especially Kaufmann’s).
In Karajan’s 1985 performance the chorus from the Opéra was imported from Paris, and it was a wise choice, for the chorus of the Deutsche Staatsoper struggled a bit, especially with the conductor’s fast tempi and loud orchestra. The Staatsoper’s child chorus must be mentioned for their amazingly clean performance – the best I have ever heard.
I leave the best for last – the lovely Genia Kühmeier, a radiant Micaëla. What a special singer she is – and to think that there are so few recordings with her… It’s a shame!
? I think, to find out, one has to go back to the recordings of the old exponents of the french school, before the internationalization of opera- singers like Luccioni, Thill, Endrèze, Lubin… These singers had one thing in common: perfect diction. The communicated eloquently through the use of the words, before they even did through the sheer sound of their voices. And I’d add a second defining feature: musically, they all had good taste (), they sang in a measured fashion, not overdoing it, cultivating good intonation.
Thanks for the review- I wish I’d been there !
no wonder he couldn’t resist to sing his “Ma Carmen adorée” before the time and call it a day…
This is an alternative ending which you can also hear in the Zürich Carmen from 2008, sure not the idea of the tenor but of the direction. I was in Salzburg where you could here it too.
Hello, Camen!
Please explain the alternative ending to me. Does the tenor stabs Carmen while singing “Eh bien, ma Carmen adorée” (instead of “Eh bien, damnée”) and then he sings the usual “Ah, Carmen! Ma Carmen adorée” exactly where it has always been? If this is really so, I understand why the usual solution is preferred.
PS – I don’t know if that was clear, but the sentence you quote is, of course, a joke – of course, Kaufmann or any serious singer would never sing something in the wrong place on purpose.
Hello, Antoine! Thanks – I guess that it wasn’t wrong then when I said above that Kozena was quite “authentic” 🙂
The reason why the tenor sings early “Ma Carmen adorée” its because Simon Rattle choose to play the controversial Oeser edition in its entirety, and that’s an oddity (generally conductors prefer to make cuts or mix with the Chaudons edition).
Thank you, Jeff. I understand that the Oeser edition has been used, but not being familiar with it in its absolute purity (as far as I understand, conductors have made their own choices when they “adopt” the Oeser edition), I still haven’t understood if it was performed as it was supposed to be – for it sounded truly ineffective to have the climactic line previously sung when one could barely hear it just to have it repeated shortly after that.
PS – I have been trying to understand the variants in Carmen’s final scene “in the Oeser edition”, as supposedly performed in the Berlin concert. Curiously, there is practically nothing conclusive to be found on the Internet about this subject. So far, the most interesting thing was found in a thread in Opera-L . A quote: “One of the many problems with this edition is that it *doesn’t* consistently represent this or any other state of the score. Oeser jumps around among different alternatives according to whether he thinks the change was Bizet’s idea or forced upon him. At points he edits together different measures deriving from different states of the work, notably at Carmen’s death, which we might say is “recomposed by Oeser.”” In any case, the point here is not to judge how good Oeser’s version is, but to know what EXACTLY Oeser’s version is. Practically, almost every recording of Carmen since the 1970’s is supposed to follow “the Oeser” edition, but -as said above – conductors pick their choices. None – as far as I know, and I really don’t know every recording of Carmen – have adopted the bizarre ending as performed in Berlin. If someone can explain why “this” Oeser edition is different from the “usual” Oeser edition, PLEASE help us out here!