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An Incandescent Don José Pavia
Teatro Fraschini
01/15/2026 - & January 17*, 2026
Georges Bizet: Carmen
Emanuela Pascu (Carmen), Roberto Aronica/Joseph Dahdah* (Don José), Tocio Faus/Alessia Merepeza* (Micaëla), Pablo Ruiz (Escamillo), Soraya Méncid (Frasquita), Aoxue Zhu (Mercédès), William Allione (Dancaïre), Enrico Iviglia (Remendado), Nicola Ciancio (Zuniga), Gianluca Failla (Moralès)
Coro OperaLombardìa, Diego Maccagnola (Chorus Master), Coro di voci bianche, Mario Mora (Chorus Master), Orchestra I Pomeriggi Musicali, Sergio Alapont (Conductor)
Stefano Vizioli (stage director), Emanuele Sinisi (sets), Annamaria Heinrich (costumes), Vincenzo Raponi (lighting), Pierluigi Vanelli (choreography), Imaginarium Studio (videography)
E. Pascu
Carmen is one of the most perfect operas ever written. It features an inspired setting, marvellous orchestration and vocal writing, and most of all, intense drama. It was highly admired by no less than Gustav Mahler, who championed it during his tenure with the Vienna Court Opera. It’s thought of as indestructible, a success no matter what sauce it’s served in. We’ve seen it all: a mezzo or a soprano Carmen; spoken dialogue or sung recitatives; set in its authentic Seville; during the Spanish Civil War; the Mexican Revolution, and even the circus. A case in point is Otto Preminger’s powerful film, the musical‑comedy adaptation Carmen Jones, set during the segregation‑era southern U.S.
The Opéra Comique original version with spoken dialogue may make sense in a French‑speaking country, where singers can enunciate properly and the audience understands the language of Molière. Yet, even in such a context, dialogue in opera, especially a dramatic one, interrupts the flow. Worse, it’s absurd to expect that non‑native speakers of a language with challenging phonetics would perform in a language they haven’t mastered, or can’t even speak. Therefore I favour the version using the sung recitatives by Ernest Guiraud (1837‑1892), as they’re melodious and fun. Sadly, over the past four decades the dialogue version has become standard, given the ever‑increasing obsession with urtext. Surprisingly, this is the second consecutive production I’ve seen that’s used the sung recitatives; perhaps common sense has finally prevailed.
The two lead singers, particularly the tenor, were excellent choices. Though not scheduled to sing (she had, two days earlier), Romanian mezzo Emanuela Pascu stepped in to replace an indisposed colleague. Hers was a self‑confident, sensuous and likeable Carmen. She’s neither monster, whore nor maneater. As such, the public could easily identify with her and cheer her on. Pascu has a warm mezzo with a secure upper register. Her Act I habanera or “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” is Carmen’s presentation to the public of who she is. This Carmen was strong‑willed, proud, spirited, playful but not a slut, as some directors choose to make her, though it’s doubtful a naive country boy would fall for such a character.
Often portrayed as a corrupting influence, this Carmen was relatively tame, which made José’s attraction plausible. Her haunt, Lillas Pastia’s tavern, is neither brothel nor seedy dive. When Zuniga, officer of the guard and José’s superior, interrupts the quarrelling couple at Lillas’s, Carmen calls her smuggler friends who merely tie him up. In some unconvincing productions, the merry band of smugglers murder Zuniga, thus making José a partner-in-crime.
Act II opened with the aria “Les tringles des sistres tintaient” and its ballabile rhythms. Here, Pascu showed great sensuality in her movements while singing. Unfortunately, director Stefano Vizioli and his choreographer Pierluigi Vanelli seem to have a fascination with Broadway, ending dramatic scenes with vaudeville-inspired tableaux vivants, evoking high school productions of Broadway material. This may add comic elements, but it dilutes the drama. The main effect of this cheesy twist is just mauvais gout. This is a pity, as other Vizioli productions, such his Victorian‑era Lucia di Lammermoor in Pisa, and his Il trovatore in Lisbon, did not suffer from such deficiency.
The director’s best idea was to create a carpet of roses for Carmen and José’s Act II reunion, following his prison term, for allowing her escape at the end of Act I. Pascu’s “Tout doux, Monsieur, tout doux. Je vais danser en votre honneur”, was truly sensual, without becoming a caricature of sensuality. At the moment José gets nervous hearing the bugles signaling retreat to the camp, she doesn’t immediately turn demonic, a tired device resorted to by too many directors. Instead, she’s bewildered, disappointed and her pride damaged. Never before has she met such an honest, rule‑abiding man, a novel concept for her. Dramatically, this explains the attraction between two very different people. Vizioli’s bed of roses appropriately evoked sensuality, an intelligent clin d’œil to José’s “La fleur que tu m’avais jetée” and to the flower that initiated the attraction.
Pascu’s interpretation was thoroughly enjoyable vocally and dramatically. However, her light mezzo is not my idea of Carmen’s voice. A darker hue with more bite would give her the right temperament. In dramatic moments, Pascu darkened her voice to elicit more drama. This was effective, but also calculated.
Lebanese tenor Joseph Dahdah was an ideal Don José, the best I’ve heard in over a decade, endowed with just the right timbre for the role, robust and youthful. Given his age, this lyric tenor may well grow into a dramatic one. Gifted with amazingly secure high notes, he is utterly breathtaking to watch in action. Given his superlative technique, one needn’t worry that he’d damage his voice in the process, as is often the case. As a native of Lebanon, he is likely a native French speaker, with enviable diction. In opera, this does not merely constitute proper enunciation, but also having a feel for the language. Dahdah is also blessed with the looks of a jeune premier. This young tenor will go far; he has it all, and then some.
Though Vizoli’s staging could not be described as original or insightful, his choice of not exaggerating the protagonists’ character traits was insightful. This Don José was neither naive ingénue country bumpkin nor vicious thug. He was a young man, traditional and well‑behaved, experiencing first love, who’s destabilized and eventually destroyed by it. His acting was natural, which helped the public identify with this anti‑hero – no easy task. His interpretation of Don José’s signature aria, “La fleur que tu m’avais jetée,” was near perfect, save for the final diminuendo, though given this tenor’s technical excellence, I suspect dispensing with this diminuendo was a musical decision by the conductor. Even in the final scene, when José stabs Carmen, there were no histrionics. Carmen acted as if she had accepted her own demise as she could not live in fear or on the run. José stabbed her in a moment of rage and impotence, his face showing both surprise and remorse.
Albanian-Italian lyric soprano Alessia Merepeza was a lovely Micaëla, an often dull role, especially when juxtaposed with the overwhelming Carmen. Bizet’s assignment of overly serene music to Micaëla makes her so angelic that she has no chance against the sultry Carmen. In many productions, a tepid Micaëla seems most appropriately destined to become a nun. Not so in the case of this young soprano. Merepeza’s Micaëla was serious and reserved, but also proud and solid. Her diction was only second to Dahdah’s. Thanks to her beautiful phrasing, ease in the upper register and natural acting, this was one charming country girl. She exuded joy in her Act I duet with Don José, “Parle‑moi de ma mère”. Her Act III “Je dis que rien ne m’épouvante” was luminous and moving.
Spanish baritone Pablo Ruiz was miscast as Escamillo, a role requiring more heft in the lower register. Escamillo, despite the brevity of the role, is not an easy one, as it requires both high and low notes. It’s truly a bass‑baritone role, and few baritones have ease in the lower part. Despite this shortcoming, Ruiz was a convincing bullfighter thanks to his good looks and stage presence. His Toreador Song, “Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre,” elicited huge applause, despite the vocal limitations.
The minor roles were well-sung despite some poor diction. Chinese mezzo Aoxue Zhu stood out with her sultry mezzo; she may be a great Carmen one day. The chorus, though generally excellent, could have benefited from a language coach. Choreographer Vanelli could not resist using the children’s chorus to create unnecessary, distracting divertimenti. In Act I, “Avec la garde montante, nous arrivons, nous voilà” is a playful children’s chorus, and hence such shenanigans are acceptable. However, at the opening of Act IV, “A deux cuartos ! A deux cuartos !”, making the children and adult choruses engage in more gratuitous vaudeville was ill‑timed, prior to the opera’s pivotal finale.
Spanish conductor Sergio Alapont’s understanding of the score has much improved since he was last heard conducting Carmen in Oviedo. Here, he was much more lively, ably managing to draw out Bizet’s orchestral colouring. In the opening of Act III, he brought out the oppressive melancholy signaling impending doom.
Pavia is a university town some forty kilometres south of Milan. Its university is one of the oldest in Europe. For a city of under 80,000 inhabitants, it has a decent opera season that some cities ten time its size would envy. As mentioned in a recent review from Brescia, another city in the region of Lombardy, some five cities in Italy’s largest and most populous region cooperate to share productions through an association called OperaLombardia. As Brescia, Pavia, Cremona, Como and Bergamo have populations between 80,000 and 250,000, and historic theatres of a similar size, they unite annually to share productions. Pavia’s 2025‑2026 offerings include five operas: Donizetti’s L’elisir d’amore; Massenet’s Don Quichotte; Bellini’s I Puritani, Verdi’s Nabucco; and Bizet’s Carmen. Likewise, their ballet season offers five productions. Even for a university town, I was surprised by the young age of the audience. Upon verification, I was even more surprised by the affordability of the tickets. Thanks are in order for such an enterprising company in a small town. May their example inspire other cities.
Ossama el Naggar
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