Clyde Opera Group: Carmen
Woodside Halls, Glasgow 26/7/25
Clyde Opera Group, Răzvan Luculescu (conductor), Liang Yu (mezzo-soprano), Aidan Philips (tenor), Andreea Păduroiu (soprano), Christoph Schweizer (bass-baritone), Alejandro Cuellar (bass), Andreea-Carmen Marin (soprano), Juliet Telford (mezzo-soprano), Hunter Rogers (baritone), Joseph Kelly (bass-baritone), Kang Seo (tenor)
Marking the 150th Anniversary of the death of Georges Bizet, Clyde Opera Group presented two performances of his masterpiece ‘Carmen’ on consecutive nights at Woodside Halls in Glasgow. This review covers the first of these on 26th July. As many of the principal and sub-principal roles (specifically Carmen, Don José, Zuniga, Frasquita and Mercedes) were covered by different artists on the two nights, and the programme notes did not specify which, I have resorted to as educated a guesswork as I can muster. I am fairly sure I have got it right, but crave the reader’s indulgence, just in case.
Clyde Opera Group was founded in Glasgow just under a decade ago by Romanian artists, soprano Roxana Niţe, who serves as Artistic Director and Vocal Coach, and Răzvan Luculescu, who serves as Music Director. It offers an international platform for artists at the start of their careers to collaborate on productions which enhance their repertoires and experience. A small chorus and a small orchestra are part of the Group.
Bizet’s Carmen was my first full grand opera, in the sense of the first opera I got to know from start to finish, while I was still in primary school, and as distinct from arias, excerpts, operettas and musical theatre. It was through the legendary 1964 LP box set with Callas, Gedda, Massard and the Paris Opéra under Georges Prêtre. Unusually for early 70s Ireland, I had begun to learn French in primary school. The experience was epiphanic. ‘Carmen’ remains a favourite.
Therefore, my preference is always for productions in French, and in this respect the Clyde production delivered, with English surtitles on two large screens. Roxana Niţe directed and Răzvan Luculescu conducted a version of the score for smaller ensemble adapted by Jonathan Lyness. Set design was by Eve Care and lighting was by Lily Hudson. A troupe of nine ballet dancers, choreographed by Maureen Christie, variously interpreted the instrumental numbers and occasionally adumbrated the state of mind of the principal characters. The programme notes acknowledged the assistance of Scottish Opera for rehearsal space and costumes.
Tenor Aidan Philips (New Zealand/ Scotland) was vocally and dramatically convincing as the tragic Don José, easy prey to the seductress Carmen. Through the opera he loses his rank as a corporal, his career as a soldier, his good name and, finally, the ephemeral affection of Carmen herself, with music that charts his transformation from devoted “mommy’s boy” to a vicious jealous homicidal shell of his former self. Philips exploited the verismo possibilities in Bizet’s writing with a strong tessitura across the range, while sustaining a compelling characterisation. In the role of Carmen, South African mezzo Liang Yu was in possession of a vocal instrument with very lovely clarity and accuracy, but to my taste, in the more passionate moments, somewhat underpowered and under-projected. Carmen must be ‘dangerous’; she just wasn’t. That aside, dramatically, she was a convincing freedom-loving seductress. And also, I will not leave it unsaid that the happiest earworm that remains from the evening was one of her numbers – more of that later. The quality of French diction of both principals was excellent.
Romanian soprano Andreea Păduroiu was a charming Micaëla, the innocent but fiercely courageous country girl who really loves José, links him to his Navarre origins and represents his one chance of redemption, which of course he rejects. Bizet gives her two glorious arias, in the first and third acts, the former reminding José of his mother’s love; the latter a prayer for the courage to face danger and rescue José from his descent into a criminal underworld and a state of thralldom to an accursed seductress. Andreea delivered both to perfection. The toreador Escamillo was portrayed by German bass-baritone Christoph Schweizer. Bizet’s character is quite 2-D: a shallow, uncomplicated braggart. Christoph, tall with a great stage presence and a fabulous voice, was colourfully costumed and commanded the undivided attention of the hall. Probably not what Bizet intended, but thoroughly marvellous nonetheless.
A directorial quirk of the production deserves mention. A short time into the first act, after Micaëla has come looking for José and then left without meeting him to escape the unwanted attention of the bored soldiers, he arrives with Zuniga and a “changing of the guard” ceremony, its formality mocked by the urchins of the town. I was disappointed when Scottish Opera’s controversial ‘Taggart’ production two years ago cut the scene entirely, as its music is delightful. We got the music, the children’s parts sung by three young girls, augmented by a quartet of ladies voices, really excellent aurally, but visually static. The comedic element was instead provided by the shambolic ‘Keystone Cops’-style movements of the soldiers themselves, their uniforms shabby and ill-fitting. I felt that this presented problems for the character of Zuniga, José’s commanding officer, played by Texan bass Alejandro Cuellar. Whilst the character of Zuniga is not encumbered by a moral compass, he is not supposed to be a buffoon either – he should be credible as a commander of men. Alejandro never looked like he knew where to put himself on stage, and I felt that this awkwardness detracted from his vocal performance.
The various other subsidiary roles were well-served. Smugglers Dancaïre and Remendado were played by Scottish bass-baritone Joseph Kelly and South Korean tenor Kang Seo respectively, while Australian baritone Hunter Rogers played José’s fellow-corporal Moralès. Carmen’s Gypsy friends Frasquita and Mercédès were played by Romanian soprano and mezzo Andreea-Carmen Marin and Juliet Telford from England respectively. Their Act III duet of Tarot fortune-telling was a delight.
There were a number of occasions where I formed the impression that more rehearsal time of the orchestra with the singers would have been advantageous. The performance never derailed but there were moments of hesitation where it seemed as if the source of a cue was uncertain; other times a principal’s freedom with shaping and phrasing was curtailed by the conductor ploughing on. The orchestral ensemble cohesion was also occasionally fragmented near transitions. All that acknowledged, the earworm that I took home from the performance and that is still with me was Carmen’s exotic dance for José from Act II, where she sings a seductive “la, la, la” melody, with a trumpet countermelody representing the roll-call from the barracks, leaving the stricken José torn between duty and passion. When the former wins the struggle, she mocks his weakness. The singing and playing for this scene, especially the solo trumpet, were well-nigh perfect.
Despite the occasional imperfections, the narrative pace was compelling and stayed mostly true to Bizet’s vision. The unfolding tragedy of José’s abandonment of a life in which he could have found fulfilment for a free but unprincipled one for which he is totally unsuited and which drives him to the brink of insanity was played out with heightened emotional impact: opera how it’s meant to be. The sets were minimalistically simple but effective: a plaza outside the barracks and the cigarette factory gates for Act I; the tables of Lillas Pastia’s bodega for Act II, a mountain halt on the smuggler’s trail above a frontier town with crates, barrels and barrows of contraband for Act III, and two parts of the boundary wall of the bullring for the final murderous tragedy of Act IV. There were chains of lights forming a backdrop which I found puzzling, as they flickered on and off for no obvious reason. The ballet sequences were satisfying. Overall, a good night out. Carmen remains a favourite opera.