Composed by Georges Bizet

Libretto by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy,

Directed by John Fulljames

Madama Butterfly to Carmen. Sixty years championing Opera within Scotland.

Facing financial and global challenges, Scottish Opera remains a force in the cultural zeitgeist of the nation. With the influx of younger audiences and economic accessibility for others, Scottish Opera continues to be a benchmark for the world to gaze on in envy. Now, under the fiery command of Dane Lam’s conduction, the Scottish Opera Orchestra pop with affection and strength as they lead out the closing birthday celebration of Carmen.

Structurally, the concepts at play speak to director John Fulljames’ ideal avenue of the crime procedural drama, as we find the deeds have been done, the passion enraged as José sits in an interrogation cell. We throw ourselves to the mercy of narrative as we weave back and forth between José’s first meeting with Carmen, updated to a post-Franco Spain where women like the titular Carmen have a chance for their long-awaited freedom. But as the many ideas and creative decisions begin to mount, the engorged nature of the show begins to generate issues at its most basic level.

Curious ripples emerge through the Festival Theatre at the utterance of a common tongue, spoken English. Carmen intermittently metamorphosises into a crime drama with Carmen Pieraccini taking the mantle of the struggling police detective piecing the clues as to the motivations, actions and timing. A solely spoken role, Pieraccini’s inclusion marks one of the initial sparks of innovation in Scottish Opera that blurs the line between a traditional Opera and a more peculiar case of CSI: Seville. It’s a masterstroke move, though some more ‘purist’ admirers may draw ire from the inclusion. Say blast to them, the dipping to-and-fro from intensely syllabled aria to a breath of tension and performance makes a keenly paced Carmen.

Projected behind the action, a live overhead video feed enables the audience to see the inner workings as they pin clues, examine murder weapons, and offer a birds-eye view of the explosion of passion and violence. Will Duke’s projection of the tarot cards, match-stick packets and bull-fighting posters all conjure an elaborate net of jealousy and lust, as Alok Kumar’s Don José grapples with the choices which have led them here. Kumar’s searing tenor acts as a guide between these transitions from periprocedural to the heights of the operatic. There’s an unquestionable earthy tone to their vocals, while (arguably) not the clearest or rounded, encapsulating the character better than any sense of perfect tone.

Performing in English, there’s a detachment for some of the leads, most notably Carmen. Mezzo Justina Gringytė bottom register skirts the edges of pushing the raspy waves of passion into something more decadent and intoxicating – turning the usual saccharine notes into something smouldering and smoky. Annunciation slips however, requiring a wave of supporting vocalists or an additional lead to lift it back to a place of recognition. More concerning is the production’s choreography, particularly with Carmen’s act one Habanera which feels flat in moments, Jenny Ogilvie’s movement causes a detached physicality which worms an ugly head now and again, but never interferes too harshly with the grand scheme of things.

Though the scintillating crimson streaks of Carmen’s appeal and Sarah Beaton’s costume are lapped up by the audience, the irradiating respect and adoration for Hye-Youn Lee, performing Jose’s sweetheart Micaela, is an exercise in perfection – vocally and through a deeply emotional performance in the third act. While Phillip Rhodes rounds off the lead performers as an attention-grabbing Escamillo, a superb vocal boldness befitting Bizet’s legendary Toreador.

It’s fitting that Scottish Opera’s Carmen begins at the end, heralding the conclusion of this celebration and looking to Scottish Opera’s next sixty years. There are finalities within the narrative: Franco’s regime, the violence and lives of its characters and the impending social-political revolution.

But in these twilight moments, with the colliding innovation with wise respect for its roots, Scottish Opera has channelled a new world-class prestige through its catalogue: Carmen is no different. Or rather, it is different, and it’s precisely the diversifying storytelling mechanic which draws in new generations of Opera lovers, appeases the hearts of long-time members of the Scottish Opera families, and continues to put Scotland firmly on the global map for stellar quality and a revolution of sound.