They killed Carmen. Again. But for the first time, I was in attendance when they did it.
Sitting in Albuquerque’s National Hispanic Cultural Center, I felt a strange revulsion as the fourth act to Georges Bizet’s masterpiece began. I knew the outcome but was hoping Carmen would get a happy ending. Weeks earlier, I had discussed the psychology of Carmen with singer Audrey Babcock (see “Complexity of character,” April 12), who has played the role in both the opera and an expanded version of the legend that she wrote.
Carmen, she says, is one of the most misunderstood characters in the opera canon. For every person who sees her as a victim, another will see a provocateur and a cruel temptress. I had the good fortune to attend the Opera Southwest production of Carmen on a first date, and when she asked me to summarize the plot, I found myself mansplaining the peril women sometimes find themselves in when simply trying to find a mate.
Carmen has agency, which is rare a rarity for an opera heroine; she knows what she wants, and she knows she can change her mind at any moment. That’s pretty forward for 1875. From her first big moment, she tells us love is a rebellious bird that nobody can tame.
She can fall out of love as quickly as she falls into it, and she knows instinctually what the audience knows: She may well get killed for it. Mezzo-soprano Eliza Bonet played the title role in the performance I saw, and she embodied Carmen’s sensuality and devil-may-care personal.
