This film has, of course,
been available on video for years, but
a "Karajan spectacular" such
as this can only gain from the superior
technology and more durable format of
the DVD. It was based on a 1966 Salzburg
production by Karajan himself but the
1967 film was not simply a run of performances
with the cameras switched on; treating
the highly naturalistic stage décor
as cinema sets, Karajan himself directed
a made-for-the-screen version which
achieves plenty of stage movement and
colour without deflecting our attention
from the fact that this is the story
of Carmen, Don José and, to a
lesser degree, Micaëla and Escamillo.
The singers were acting to a previously-made
sound recording, but only in the case
of Mirella Freni are there more than
passing problems of lip-synch. The Maestro
himself can be seen in the preludes
and interludes, his eyes tight shut
and moulding the third act prelude with
the palm of his hand.
The film is a perfect
demonstration of how much more there
is to an opera than the music. Taken
purely as a sound document, we would
have to complain that the bad old version
with added recitatives by Guiraud is
used, that Karajan interpolates a string
of dances from other sources – including
the "Farandole" from "L’Arlésienne",
"Spanified" with an arsenal
of castanets – into the second act,
that Vickers was hardly a French tenor
– though nothing like as stentorian
as Franco Corelli, often to be heard
in the role in those days – and that
Karajan takes the "international"
view that Bizet is a precursor of Mascagni,
if not Mahler, and is to be played for
all his worth.
Taken as a total experience,
however, I would say that none of these
considerations can detract an iota from
a truly dramatic presentation. Pride
of place must go to Grace Bumbry. In
her case, even as a sound-only recording
this would be one of the best-sung versions
on disc, but her characterisation is
everywhere superb. It is not just a
question of looking sexy with rolling
eyes and pouting lips; she puts across
that mysterious power of the femme
fatale which is essential if we
are to find it credible that a decent
soldier like Don José is so easily
led to pile degradation upon degradation,
abandoning his mother, his girlfriend,
his military oath and finally turning
murderer. At the beginning of the opera,
as the scene fills with cigarette girls,
the cry comes up, "but where is
Carmencita?". You’d think that,
with so many girls, one more or less
would make no difference, but the moment
she enters you know why. There are people
who have the power to enter a room and
become immediately the focus of attention,
they exude a sort of control over the
room, and Grace Bumbry’s Carmen is one
of these. When such a person is a woman,
she may use her power well or badly;
Carmen uses it amorally; that is to
say, going where her instincts take
her without a precise end in view. She
is confident that, whatever the next
stage may be, she will be able to turn
it to her advantage. And so she goes
gunning for Don José, but the
last thing she really wants is the sort
of ties her behaviour may lead to, so,
having made her point, it is not long
before she has her sights on Escamillo.
She is also deeply superstitious, however,
and having read her fate in the cards
thinks only of meeting it with her head
held high, her free spirit intact.
There may be other
ways of reading Carmen’s character,
but that presented by Grace Bumbry is
fully convincing and credible. It is
a great performance, not least for the
way each phrase or movement contributes
its part to the whole.
Jon Vickers was something
of an expert in men at the end of their
tether; Otello, Florestan and Peter
Grimes were three of his most famous
roles. His powerful voice may in theory
be all wrong for this opera, and in
order to size it down and produce some
honeyed pianissimo he has to use a lot
of falsetto. But the characterization
and the acting ring true, as the straightforward,
slightly shy soldier abandons decency
and self-respect for a woman whom he
soon realizes is slipping through his
fingers anyhow until, with nothing more
to lose, he turns to murder as a way
out. A truly dramatic assumption.
Mirella Freni never
was much of an actress, but at this
stage in her career she looked like
Micaëla anyway. That being so,
she might have spared us such attempts
at acting as she does provide, these
consisting of (a) wearing an imbecilic,
toothy smile when not actually singing
(in the first act particularly) and
(b) rolling her head around in a manner
which is somewhat disconcerting since
it derives from no discernible expressive
agenda, it just doesn’t seem to have
been screwed on properly. Her demure
appearance perhaps deflects attention
from the fact that this was, even at
that early stage, more of a Puccini
voice than a Bizet one, and her French
is poor – the "Mary" she keeps
on telling Don José about is
actually his mother (mère).
Tall, dark and ruggedly
handsome, Justino Diaz seems to have
been made by nature to be a bullfighter,
a Latin lover and a public idol – and
here he can play all three. Since he
also sings very well this is a classic
portrayal. The minor parts are all very
well taken, with particular mention
for the Frasquita and Mercédès;
it is interesting to find Kurt Equiluz,
stalwart of so many Telefunken Bach
recordings, turning up as Dancaïre.
So all in all, this
DVD will bring into your house something
of the frisson of a great night in the
opera house – a great night such as
you will not so easily find now that
the heydays of Karajan et al are long
past.
Christopher Howell
UNITEL
DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 00440 073 4032 [163:00]
