Opera Australia: Carmen
by Heather Leviston 17th November, 2025

How times have changed. Publicity for Opera Australia’s latest incarnation of Carmen comes with a warning note: “This production contains a racial slur, adult themes, including sexual references and graphic depictions of murder and violence against women.” It signals our horrified awareness of the relentless death toll of women at the hands of men, especially partners. The good old “crime passionnel”, which historically had social and legal acceptance in 19th century France, is no longer tolerated. Nowadays, when Don José finally murders Carmen, it is infinitely more sickening than tragic, especially given the intimately hands on way he goes about it in this production.

In a video clip on the OA website the director, Anne-Louise Sarks, claims that she does not see Carmen as a victim, yet the first thing we see when the curtain rises is a powerful image of victimhood: a huge cyclone wire fence with a multitude of colourful ribbons and locks, the latter a symbol of everlasting love. “Loud Fence” ribbons, recognising child sexual abuse survivors, began appearing on several Ballarat sites in 2015, notably outside Ballarat Cathedral. Reinforcing the connection, was a huge, dimly-lit cross, like a graveyard monument, behind the cyclone wire fence. The three major themes of love, death and religion are heavily referenced in Marg Horwell’s set and costume designs throughout the opera by a host of intermingled relevant iconography. We are transported from 19th century Seville, into a stylised present, complete with mobile phone.

Unexpected design choices continued to present interesting interpretive challenges. When the whistle blew to release the girls from the tobacco factory, instead of sexy girls flirting with the soldiers, the sandy beige colour of the soldier’s uniforms was echoed in the decidedly unsexy beige uniforms of the girls. Even Carmen was only distinguished by a rolled-down jacket that revealed a skimpy black top. Of course, this was bound to look alluring when worn by Danielle de Niese. With the children dressed to resemble needy children in Smith Family advertisements, the overall effect gave prominence to the decorated fence and shadowy cross lowering over them.

Delighted murmurs and applause greeted the beginning of Act 2. Lillas Pastia’s tavern was festooned with dozens of multi coloured lights that changed as time passed. Religious statues and paraphernalia abounded with a prominent red neon cross dominating the back wall, and. The reflective surfaces of the side walls amplified the effect. The mountain area of Act 3 was comparatively stark, but a faint blue neon cross was a lurking presence at the back and a heap of flowers laid at the foot of a tall lamppost signaled a mourned death. The flower theme, established in Act 1 when Carmen flings a red rose at Don José– was the major visual element of Act 4. Set in the claustrophobic space of Escamillo’s dressing room, a florist shop’s worth of colourful flowers were transformed from celebratory to funereal.

The religious iconography featured in this production was certainly fascinating and formed a link to Don José’s priesthood training before he had to leave his home town after killing a man, but the Christian emphasis did seem to be somewhat at odds with Carmen’s gypsy ways and fortune-telling with cards. For all the thought-provoking signifiers that have been woven into this production – sometimes detracting rather than adding to the story with such a plethora of visual detail – it is chiefly the music and singers that draw people to Carmen.

What propels this particular tale of sex and death is undoubtedly Bizet’s music – so captivating and energizing that the “Toreador Song” is the Geelong AFL team’s club song. That and Carmen’s “Habanera” are the two most familiar arias in the opera and the opera’s success is often judged by how well they are performed. Walking out of the theatre one gentleman opined, “Well, the toreador was the best.” Whatever motivated that remark it was a tribute to baritone Phillip Rhodes, who did indeed portray a virile, firm-voiced Escamillo with notable success.

But the person most audience members had come to see was international opera star Danielle de Niese, our very own homegrown diva. Some would argue that the role of Carmen should be left to the mezzo-sopranos, the voice Bizet wrote for, but then we would not have heard Callas, Norman, Gheorghiu or (my personal favourite) Leontyne Price sing the role so compellingly. None of these sopranos performed the role on stage; however, de Niese has enough warmth of tone, mid-range strength and chest voice weight to satisfy the vocal requirements, and her stunning appearance (she would look fabulous even wearing a flour sack) and a personality brimming with vitality result in a Carmen worth going well out of your way to see. While the conductor, Clelia Caferiro, opted for a fairly brisk “Habanera”, de Niese was able to take more time in the more flexible tempi of the “Seguidilla” and the seductive Tavern dance. De Niese was particularly impressive in the last, dancing with seductive allure (minus her own castanets) and then turning on José with biting mockery when duty called. More firepower also super-charged their later exchanges.

Handsome and possessing a voice of exceptional vibrant quality, Mexican-Spanish tenor Abraham Bretón made an admirable Don Jose – a worthy object of Carmen’s desire for conquest. His voice was steady and secure when singing the “Flower Song” and he was truly impressive in the final confrontation. His level of concentrated vocal power and his depiction of homicidal despair intensified the drama most chillingly.

In stark contrast to these two powerhouses, Jennifer Black’s Micaëla was sweetness and gentle light – which is not to say that it was at all lightweight. Her modest dress and demeanour was given substance by her voice – smooth and lustrous with an unobtrusive natural vibrato. Her singing of Micaëla’s famous Act 3 aria as she enters the smugglers’ hideout was musical and expressive. She was a perfect foil for de Niese’s Carmen, and her voice had sufficient power to blend well with Bretòn’s lyric tenor in their duets.

As Carmen’s smuggler friends, Jane Ede (Frasquita), Angela Hogan (Mercédès), Alexander Hargreaves (Le Dancaïre) and Virgilio Marino (Remendado) made a lively, well-blended quartet, singing and acting with confidence while ensuring the focus was on the principal characters. Other roles were also performed well, with Nathan Lay as Morales setting a high standard in the opening scene. Richard Anderson was a suitably bumptious Zuniga with a strong voice and an assertive stage presence.

The collection of children gave a spirited, well-disciplined performance as they marched and cartwheeled in the limited space in front of the “Loud Fence”. Despite the lacklustre action, the ladies of the OA Chorus gave a luminous performance in Act 1. Vocally, you could not have asked for more from the sopranos; their top notes were as relaxed and effortless as the rising smoke. The gentlemen also put plenty of colour and energy into their chorus work.

Some of Bizet’s most recognizable tunes come in the music for orchestra alone. Caferiro took the Overture at a spanking pace, whipping up the excitement. The Prelude to Act 3 featuring flute and harp was beautifully serene and atmospheric – not at all indicative of the dramatic showdown that was to follow. Orchestra Victoria was once again in fine form throughout the evening.

In some respects, this production of Carmen might not be everyone’s glass of manzanilla, but it has many arresting features, and certainly provides much food for thought. Fine orchestral playing of Bizet’s marvelous score plus outstanding performances make this Carmen a must-see experience.

Photo credit: Jeff Busby