Pretentiousness: Analysis of 'Carmen' through theoretical frameworks

Apologies for the pretentiousness...It's an essay for a uni portfolio, and having spent a bit of time researching it, thought I may as well post. Might be quite interesting in the end...

By considering a dramatic performance through a theoretical framework, it is possible to see past the surface meaning by focusing on certain elements or themes that provide a deeper understanding of the piece. Often, it is possible to draw on several of these critical frameworks, looking at how they interact with and inform each other; so creating an awareness of how the piece is constructed with parts of a whole.

In terms of a complex operatic performance, such as Bizet’s Carmen, there are so many of these individual artistic elements, dramatic and musical, as well as overlapping themes, that it is difficult to achieve an in-depth understanding without using multiple frameworks. This also highlights the importance of selecting appropriate frameworks in order to create an insightful analysis. For example, in terms of an historic art form such as the operatic adaptation of Carmen, an analysis under new historicism would tell us a lot not only about the development of the form, but also the cultural implications of the plot. With music as the main language, a theory of musical semiotics would be extremely useful in this context for providing a reliable interpretation beyond that of the subjective emotional response. Finally, a broader theoretical approach, such as the application of feminism and gender subversion, would aid in a complete understanding of Carmen due to its close links with the dramatic content and the contemporary conventions of operatic characterisation, as well as how it interacts with both new historicism and the language of musical semiotics.

Through the frame of new historicism, it is possible to see Carmen as a product of its historical context, as well as a tool by which to understand cultural and musical development. The subject matter of Carmen is particularly interesting under an analysis of this kind. In mid 19^th century Europe, the role of ‘Dangerous Other’ had been passed from Turks to Jews and finally to Gypsies and literature and composition was littered with reference to Gypsy culture. This ‘otherness’, along with the ‘fabled looseness of the cigarreras’ established Carmen, in the 19^th Century mind, as a stereotypical gypsy; a temptress. This racist 19^th Century western perception of gypsy culture failed to recognise anything that didn’t adhere to this stereotype, even such striking dissonances as the chaste dress of all gypsy women, which Adrian Mourby recognises as protectiveness of ‘womenfolk’ apparent in all ‘vulnerable minorities’.

In new historic terms, it is the form which is most important in highlighting artistic development. Unlike Mozart’s foray into Spanish culture in Don Giovanni, Bizet creates a soundscape fitting with the content of the piece. By using compositional techniques such as the Andalusian cadence (or the minor descending tetrachord) which are inherent in the flamenco music of Spanish and Gypsy culture, Bizet creates a strong relationship between the music and drama, so advancing the operatic form in its dramatic scope and plausibility.

As musicologist Joseph Kerman notes, feminist criticism is generally absent from the study of music-drama, especially in the dangerous territory of operatic performance, where the conventions of ‘femininity’, as well as gender subversion due to ‘breeches roles’, are normalised. This highlights the importance of applying new theory to dramatic works in order to obtain a deeper contemporary understanding. In Carmen, it is possible to approach feminism on two levels; simply with the dramatic events, and simultaneously through the context of musical semiotics. As music is the primary language of operatic performance, it is important to use the theory of musical semiotics to support, and see if there is any foundation in, a feminist approach.

Literary critic Catherine Clemént makes the important distinction between women’s role in opera as a form, and their role within the dramatic content; ‘No prima donna, no opera. But the role...is not the deciding role...women perpetually sing their eternal undoing’. This is certainly true in Carmen, where the eponymous heroine, possibly ‘the most feminist’ character throughout the operatic tradition, meets a tragic death at the hands of a man; in Carmen’s case, Don José. This male dominance is not only evident in the final sequence, but is subliminally transferred to the audience throughout through the construction of the music (specifically Prelude and Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre) which conjures combative, ‘masculine’ bullfighting. Described by Clemént as ‘one of opera’s inspired and unconscious transferences’, this application of musical semiotics highlights to us the inescapability of Carmen’s feminine condition; existing in relation to men, with ‘music devoted to a woman convok[ing] virile heroes’.

It is Carmen’s attempt to achieve freedom from this stifling social condition, both musically and dramatically, that, for Clemént , establishes Carmen as a strong feminist figure. This is no better demonstrated than in the modality of the composition. If safety and convention can be classified as tonal and diatonic, Carmen’s chromaticism ‘threatens the world of rational order and control’ and this is strongly evident immediately after Don José’s strongly diatonic and typically Romantic aria, La fleur que tu m’avais jetée, which is answered by Carmen with the tritone. Semiotically, the tritone (or augmented fourth) is the primary interval of dissonance in Western harmonic theory, symbolic of diabolus in musica, and so indicative of Carmen’s social standing in challenging contemporary convention; the ‘demon’.

Despite the fact this musical representation of a challenge to convention seems like a strong feminist action, it unfortunately gives a musical reason why Carmen will eventually have to submit to the patriarchy of operatic convention, dying at the hands of her lover, Don José. In accordance with the theory of musical semiotics, ‘absolute closure’ is synonymous with diatonic cadence, which is musically impossible with Carmen’s ‘harmonic promiscuity’.

According to Clemént though, looking at this through a structuralist perspective makes this acceptable within the framework of feminist criticism. In the aria in which she prophesises her death, En vain pour eviter les réponses amères, Carmen voices a ‘revolutionary proclamation of a woman who chooses to die before a man decides it for her’. This is particularly evident through the use of foreboding word-play in the original French lyrics. When spoken, or sung, ‘la mort’ (death) and ‘l’amour’ (love) are indistinguishable; so highlighting Carmen’s realisation that in this circumstance, the two are inseparable, with a man’s love as the ultimate cause of her death.

In conclusion, by considering a dramatic piece through the focus of several theoretical frameworks, it is possible to gain a deeper understanding of the latent content and historical contexts. As indicated with a feminist, new historical and semiotic analysis of Carmen, a seemingly simple story of a Gypsy temptress, becomes a vehicle for feminist protest, the power of patriarchal society, the development of the operatic form and the racist views of 19^th Century society. By applying a strong focus on specific areas of the performance, the thematic nerve-centres are revealed, which creates a wider appreciation of all aspects of the performance; in starting with a narrow focus, the analysis builds to encompass a wider range of themes, and therefore understanding.

Richard Eyre's "Carmen"

It's 11.30 - and thus ends one of the most awesome cinematic experiences of my life- ever. And that is by no means an exaggeration. I've just got back from the Met's live broadcast of Richard Eyre's production of "Carmen", and too emotionally drained to write about anything else, I figured I might as well write about this :)

Bizet's masterpiece, Carmen, is amazing. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's one of the most appealing operas ever written. That doesn't mean the best necessarily; but you could go to Carmen at any point in your life, on any day, at any time - and get lost in the drama. I was discussing this with my friend Anna as we were sitting amongst our white haired counterparts, and we settled on the fact that it works so well because you have the marriage of a stunning score and gripping plot. This may seem pretty obvious, but if you look at some other opera's that are less 'easy' to listen to then you'll see what I mean. Der Rosenkavalier, for instance, is stunning because of the music - the plot line is a little bit wacky, and it's generally believed that you have a better understanding of it later in life. Eugene Onegin, my favorite opera of all time, is a tale of very frustrating non events. In Carmen however you've got music, intrigue, seduction, love, lust, deception, betrayal, murder...and apparently comedy.

I can safely say that everyone in the theatre fell in love with Elina Garanca over the course of the opera. I wouldn't be surprised if every man and woman in that theatre was seduced by her intelligent, sultry, and witty interpretation of a role so open to cliche. I was eavesdropping a bit in the theatre, and most people confirmed my belief that she's such a convincing and natural actress that it's hard to believe she's doing all that whilst singing with such technical security (and sometimes dancing as well!). The amount of comedy that she brought to the table, be it by teasing the officers or doing bizarre bugle impressions, gives the Carmen that we all know so well, a realistic and 3 dimensional edge. And who knew eating an orange could be so seductive? But what she really pulled off, was the element of spiritual freedom (with which she tempts José in the second act) as well as a perfect dose of nonchalance; she was like a sly cat playing with the poor little mice before eating them. This made the whole journey of the character, and her swapping from man to man, much more believable. This is just perfectly demonstrated after poor Don José pours his heart out to her, in a 'bravo!' worthy rendition of 'La fleur que tu m'avais jetée'. She keeps her facial expression the same throughout, only to blow away the dried leaves of the flower which José holds out to her. It got quite a laugh from the obviously sadistic opera fans.

And I haven't even started on her voice! But it won't take long. It's just amazing :) The richness and depth has certainly developed even since the autumn run at the ROH. 'En vain pour éviter les réponses ameres' was even more moving second time round, because of the intensity and resonance of the lower register. And of course, she more than pulled off the old war-horses with a combination of the heart-stopping voice and, surprise, surprise - doing away with all cliché.

Roberto Alagna, reprising his famous Don José, was the perfect puppy-dog come pit-bull. I heard on the opera grapevine that he had a cold prior to this performance, but you wouldn't tell thanks to that impeccable voice, with some really stunning pianissimi. Hats off as well, to stand in Baritone, Teddy Rhodes, who must have been really wetting himself, having only got the call 3 hours before curtain up. He greatly surpassed Ildebrando d'Archangelo in the ROH production, bringing a brilliant mix of testosterone and a surprise hint of modesty to the role. I was also pleasantly surprised with Barbra Frittoli's Michaela, whom I always feel is a bit wet and no competition for Carmen whatsoever. However, Frittoli's colour is much darker than what the role usually demands, adding to an already stoical interpretation of what is essentially a meek character. The level of singing was so high, that the cast generally achieved what, paradoxically, every singer sets out to achieve; to make the audience forget they are singing.

Richard Eyre challenged so much of the stereotypical elements of Carmen with a stunning set, and all-round intelligent interpretation. I feel like I've seen a completely different opera to my ROH experience. First time, I felt that the love between Michaela and José was a one way street, with poor, annoying Michaela's love unrequited. This time, the clear passion, feeling and understanding between the two characters gave the whole turn of events not necessarily a different meaning, but certainly highlighted Don José's changing character and motives. I was also greatly touched by Carmen's declaration of love to Escamillo in the final scene, feeling that instead of it being Carmen at her old tricks again, this time she really meant it. Which of course makes her untimely murder all the more tragic.

Never have I seen such an intense final scene in opera. The murder of a mezzo soprano is so much more exciting than the slightly random death of the consumption riddled sopranos...yes I mean you Violetta/Thais/Mimi/Manon. But in this scene, I thought I was having a minor heart attack, my heart was racing that much. I know the story, I could hum 'C'est Toi...C'est Moi' to you right now; but the connection between the two protagonists was just unreal. That is, unreal in the sense that it was hard to believe such a 'real' connection could be achieved on stage. I felt I was witness to real events unfolding before my very eyes. My friend, and opera companion, Anna, was in a fierce battle of wills, knowing that Carmen is murdered in the end, but still holding out that every time José lets her go, he might not try again. This production didn't need black stallions, donkeys and chickens, as in Francesca Zambello's rustic staging - it was the chemistry between the characters which electrified the audiences.

And to top it off, who should be presenting the HD broadcast but the Met's very own darling, Renée Fleming; who, as always, added to the experience with some wonderfully insightful questioning of the cast, conductor and choreographer.

All in All? Without doubt 11/10