Bizet: Carmen
April 2005 Reviewed by: Wes Marshall Format: DVD	(all ratings out of 5): Overall Enjoyment Picture Quality Packaged Extras Sound Quality

Bizet’s Carmen is a war-horse that gets a showing from nearly every opera company on earth about as often as the World Cups happen. Given its ubiquity, you might wonder what TDK was thinking, releasing a 27-year-old performance on DVD, including this disclaimer: "Although every effort was taken in its restoration, the video quality of this film, taped over 25 years ago, unfortunately does not always come up to present-day standards." The answer, my friends, is Carlos Kleiber.

I don’t want to slight the vast importance of Franco Zefferelli’s direction and production, since they are much used by the Vienna Opera, as well as other companies. Zeffirelli not only directed the opera, he also directed the filming, using one fascinating device. Knowing that the presence of Kleiber was itself a cause celebre, Zeffirelli had the lights set so that the camera would get an occasional glimpse of maestro Kleiber in a moment of rapture and bliss, demonstrating to viewers what the singers were seeing from the stage. It is a fascinating piece of stagecraft, one that would be poo-pooed for any other conductor. Given the fact that it’s Kleiber, the moments are treasureable. I was especially happy to see that Kleiber was one of the few conductors who conducted on the beat instead of ahead of it, a boon to amateurs who like to conduct along. For an example of the excitement that Kleiber could generate, you have to go no further than the opening "Prelude." The orchestra members have no sooner been seated after the audience’s greeting applause than the conductor impetuously launches into the dramatic opening music.

Credit for the success of this production must also go to Elena Obraztsova, a more subtle than fiery Carmen, who plays the role straight and prim, leaving the supposed seduction scene (chapter 10, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle") somewhat chaste. Not until the catastrophic card scene, (chapter 11, "En vain pour éviter les réponses amčres") does her portrayal start to create some dramatic spark, but from there on, she handles the role splendidly. Plácido Domingo wisely cuts back on heroics and emphasizes the tragic aspects of his character. His aria, "La fleur que tu m'avais jetée" (chapter 33), is as good an example of heartrending singing as you will ever hear. In the original TV production, Zeffirelli left in a full five-minute standing ovation at the end of Domingo’s aria; here it is edited. This is probably better for repeated viewing, but I wish they had left the full applause in. We could always use our fast-forward buttons. Isobel Buchanan, as Micaëla, also brings the house down with her tearjerker, "Je dis que rien ne m'epouvante" (chapter 45).

It would be redundant to say that the Vienna players are perfect. Nuances and shadings receive the same tender ministrations as the power, thrust and bombast of the famous orchestral scenes. The recording is somewhat bright and lacking in depth, but quite clear, being closely recorded. The singers’ voices, on the other hand, are distantly recorded and awash in room sound. None of this will matter to opera lovers, but for those of you searching for the perfect sound, this isn’t it. Visually, the lighting is frequently odd and the picture sometimes grainy. And there are no extras.

These grumbles don’t matter. If you want Carmen on DVD, this is the one to get. Now could some enterprising DVD company please give us Denyce Graves’s Carmen while she’s still young, gorgeous, and in perfect voice?

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