|
Back
A Mostly Representative Carmen Raleigh
Raleigh Memorial Auditorium
10/16/2026 - & October 18,* 2026
Georges Bizet: Carmen
Gina Perregrino (Carmen), Eric Taylor (Don José), Laureano Quant (Escamillo), Elana Gleason (Micaëla), Christian Simmons (Zuniga), Yazid Gray (Dancaïre, Moralès), Scott Wichael (Remendado), Gretchen Bruesehoff (Frasquita), Sarah Neal (Mercédès), Marcelo Martinez (Choreographer and solo dancer), Megan Jones-Medford (solo dancer)
North Carolina Opera Chorus, Jeanie Wozencraft-Ornellas (Chorus Master), North Carolina Opera Orchestra, Joseph Mechavich (conductor)
Denyce Graves-Montgomery (Stage Director), Frances Rabalais (Associate Stage Director), Ross Kolman (Lighting Designer), Jeff A. R. Jones (Fight Director), Howard Tsvi Kaplan (Costume Designer), Martha Ruskai (Wig and Makeup Designer), Steven Kemp (Set Designer), James Meena and Chad Calvert (Supertitles)
E. Taylor, G. Perregrino (© Eric Waters)
There was a time in the United States, several generations ago, when school‑age children studied classical music as part of a normal education. This encompassed exposure to much of the important symphonic repertory, but also included what was charmingly referred to at the time as ‘the ABC’s of opera.’
As one might guess, this basic operatic highlights course provided introductions to Verdi’s Aida [A], Puccini’s La bohème [B], and the final C designated Bizet’s Carmen. These three scores were considered the most beloved works ever composed for the lyric stage, an opinion that, for the most part, remains true today, and as such, a starting point for serious music appreciation.
In those days, opera was considered mainstream in North America, celebrated not only onstage but in childrens’ television cartoons, on radio programs, and in Hollywood. The American mezzo‑soprano Risë Stevens was the acknowledged femme fatale of the era, her 124 performances as Bizet’s Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera setting a house record that stands to this day. In the 1944 Paramount Pictures film Going My Way, she starred opposite Bing Crosby as—what else?—his operatic lady friend, shown singing Carmen’s famous “Habanera” at the Met. In print, Stevens hawked cigarettes in magazine and theatre program advertisements, again costumed as Carmen. She and Carmen became inseparable to the general public, and thanks to her ongoing ambassadorial efforts, opera—and Carmen, especially—was everywhere.
After Stevens faced her final Met bullring in 1961, there were many important artists who followed her to staged Seville, chief among them, Marilyn Horne. After her, Denyce Graves inherited the role, becoming this country’s leading interpreter of Bizet’s gypsy.
North Carolina Opera’s first Carmen production since 2019, seen at the October 18 matinee in Raleigh’s Memorial Auditorium, boasted a recently retired Graves-Montgomery, as she now styles herself, in her new role of stage director. Passing the baton to the company’s younger generation, these young singers gained insight from her into how to move, listen, and most importantly, how to thoroughly inhabit character on stage. One could sense it working, and hear it as well as see it taking shape.
There were, however, a few unexpected directorial moments awaiting in the final scene, as José slaps the irascible Carmen outside the arena, and then, in a fit of pique, strangles her rather than dispatching her with the customary blade of the navaja. Graves-Montgomery’s reasoning behind these alterations are not known, though it was something interesting and entirely new to consider, and as such, viable alternatives that did not veer too terribly far from tradition.
These regular celebrity guest director residencies—following Francesca Zambello’s here in January—are the brainchild of the company’s General Manager, Eric Mitchko, who, before reaching Raleigh, held an important position with prestigious Columbia Artists Management in New York. Owning, one assumes, a Rolodex bulging with a who’s‑who in the music business, he clearly has a vast network of former star clients and company heads to call upon, and in sharing this considerable wealth at his command, enriches the local opera‑goer’s theatrical experiences.
Carmen is one of a number of French opéras-comiques—Offenbach’s Contes d’Hoffmann is another—that exist in multiple editions. Both these works were written for and premiered at Paris’ famed Salle Favart, where it was customary in the 19th century for spoken dialogue to bridge the action between musical numbers. In the case of Carmen, following Bizet’s sudden death in 1875, Ernest Guiraud composed sung recitatives in place of dialogue, a helpful device for artists performing in non‑francophone locales. This became standard practice for many years throughout most of the world, including much of the United States.
North Carolina Opera opted to retain bits of spoken dialogue, greatly abbreviated, but without any of Guiraud’s musical bridges.
Either of these options lengthen the proceedings considerably. However, shorn of either or both, the action passes by far too quickly for true comprehension, and character development ultimately suffers, particularly that of the secondary roles. In the case of baritone Yazid Gray, singing two very different parts, the absence of any musical set‑up dialoguing may have made his several appearances in different guises unnecessarily confusing to the first‑time attendee.
In mezzo-soprano Gina Perregrino, Graves-Montgomery had a fine Carmen with whom to work. A voice of range and impressive chest resonance is at her disposal, allowing Perregrino to play a gypsy of strength and volatility—the very qualities that make Carmen irresistible to men, among them the especially hapless Don José. To top it off, Perregrino can ‘trip the light fantastic’ with flair, flinging skirts and swaying seductively in Marcelo Martinez’ authentic second‑act choreography. Not every Carmen can do all of this so completely or convincingly.
Of this multi-dimensional assignment, the aforementioned Miss Horne once quipped, “If a mezzo said her prayers before she went to bed, they might end... ‘and, please, God, give me Carmen for opening night at the Met.’” It might not be New York, but on the strengths of her fine showing in Raleigh, Perregrino may be on her way to bigger things. Together as a team, she and her famous director fashioned a winning portrayal of this fascinatingly unconventional character.
In Prosper Mérimée’s 1835 novella Carmen, from which Bizet took his inspiration several decades on, it is Don José Lizarrabengoa whose history is central to the tragedy. In Mérimée, one first meets José in prison narrating his life’s trajectory while awaiting execution for Carmen’s murder. This was cleverly, although not entirely clearly, alluded to during the famous Fate Motive of the prelude, staged during what appeared to be José’s final moments. Staging—or ‘blocking’—operatic preludes can backfire, though this scored a definite plus, briefly softening José to present him as a human being... a tortured and very imperfect man, though not a victim, for he played a major role in his own destruction.
Eric Taylor, heard here to advantage as Puccini’s Pinkerton in January, has a large, healthy, well‑schooled tenor voice, which he uses generously in the service of the music. His was not a classic Gallic‑sounding José but, rather, a more veristic account in the line of two famous Italians of yore, Mario del Monaco and Franco Corelli, both of whom were admired in this role. Taylor, too, is capable of a melting diminuendo-falsetto to close the famous Flower Song, and elsewhere, paid homage to Mérimée’s portrait of José as a hothead with a short fuse, a concept also favored by the two Italian tenors. Graves-Montgomery no doubt aided him in further developing this, pacing José’s easily ignited hair‑trigger responses as he becomes increasingly compromised by Carmen and her accomplices.
Micaëla, José’s childhood friend from their small village and to whom he is affianced, is an invention of Bizet’s librettists Meilhac and Halévy, and does not appear in Mérimée’s novella. Her sole purpose, as the ‘other woman’ in José’s life, is to represent innate goodness in stark opposition to Carmen’s lack of moral centering. Micaëla figures in the opera’s first scenes, reappearing to sing the ravishing “Je dis que rien ne m’épouvante” in Act III, which never fails to bring down the house. Soprano Elana Gleason accomplished this, her big moment, with gleaming top tones that rang out splendidly, and earlier, played an appropriately winsome ingénue. A slight tendency towards sagging pitch notwithstanding, which may have been due to nervous jitters, she nonetheless made her vocal and dramatic points convincingly.
José has his two women, and not to be outdone, Carmen also has another man, the bullfighter Escamillo. Another short but all‑important role within the drama, he bounds onstage in Act II to sing the world‑famous Toreador Song [this opera contains more hit tunes than any other], which in the throat of debuting baritone Laureano Quant, proved quite exceptional. A beautiful, fluid high register, strongly-focused low descents, and absolutely perfect intervals in this tricky music were voiced with power and precision, and accompanied by the expected macho swagger that is Escamillo’s trademark. An artist of his quality should be swiftly re‑engaged before he is unaffordable (he sings at Milan’s operatic shrine, La Scala, shortly).
Carmen contains a large cast of secondary artists, each of whom sang persuasively while offering individual portrayals. Make no mistake: these artists are as vital to the overall success of the venture as are the leads. Of these, bass Christian Simmons’ Zuniga was a standout, singing with a core sound of penetrating resonance, as were soprano Gretchen Bruesehoff (Frasquita) and mezzo‑soprano Sarah Neal (Mercédès), whose duo blend in the third act Card Trio alongside Perregrino’s Carmen made for aural perfection.
No director has ever really worked out what to do with operatic choruses, but North Carolina Opera’s were, as always, expertly coached by Jeanie Wozencraft-Ornellas, their ensemble diction among some of the afternoon’s tightest. The short childrens’ chorus in the first act charmed, as well.
The North Carolina Opera Orchestra played beautifully and mostly energetically under Joseph Mechavich’s baton, from the famously spirited first chords to the dramatic finale. Some of the maestro’s tempi seemed unusually slow, but one assumes that this was in order to make the most of balancing environmental background scenes with elements requiring a visceral musical statement.
The unit set, designed by Steven Kemp for New Orleans Opera and lit colorfully by Ross Kolman, served, with alterations, for the scenes in Seville, along with Lillas Pastia’s tavern and the mountain pass in the other acts. Costuming loaned by Florida’s Sarasota Opera looked like those from many a textbook Carmen production, completing the pleasing stage picture.
General Director Mitchko stepped in front of the Act I curtain to welcome all, but in particular, newcomers to North Carolina Opera. Audience hands were raised to indicate first‑time attendance, a positive sign both for the company’s fiscal health along with that of the future of opera throughout this part of the country.
All in Memorial Auditorium witnessed a mostly representative Carmen, replete with atmosphere and driven by years of combined experience from management and artistic staff alike. Graves-Montgomery’s engagement added lustre to North Carolina Opera’s growing industry‑wide reputation, a position this fine Carmen consistently confirmed throughout the afternoon.
Carl J. Halperin
|
