Claudio Abbado's 1978 Carmen is an elegant, dramatically convincing reading of the Opéra-Comique version of
Bizet's score, with spoken dialogue. There's no such thing as a perfect Carmen -- too many versions of the score, too many types of voices to sing the title role and opinions on which is best, and so on. But it would be hard to go wrong with this recording. The very first bars of the overture announce this as one of
Abbado's most energetic and tightly knit performances, and he delivers on that promise throughout.
Berganza's Carmen reflects the singer's conviction that the character should represent the reality of Spanish womanhood, rather than a wanton, man-eating stereotype. Far from vulgar, her heroine possesses an understated sensuality that makes José's infatuation with her seem more real, and less cartoonish, than it can in tarted-up readings. But she doesn't make Carmen a lady, or gloss over the earthy elements of a character who, afterall, works in a cigarette factory and associates with smugglers. It is a humanistic and life-sized portrayal, anchored by
Berganza's attractive and beautifully detailed singing. Her Séguedille -- slower, more deliberate, and more honest in its suggestiveness than is often heard -- is a special highlight.
Domingo's José, while painted more broadly than
Berganza's Carmen, is still excellent -- just one of several fine recordings of the role he made during his prolific career. His affinity for lyrical French music, and the latin fervor that underpins his basic sound, make him a nearly ideal José. His arias, "La fleur que tu m'avais jetée" in particular, are moments to be savored.
Domingo also deserves credit, as do all the members of the cast, for diving into the French-spoken dialogue with gusto, even if not with perfect French. Hearing the same voices do the speaking and singing allows the listener to keep track of the action and avoid the confusion that results on some recordings that bring in native-speaking "ringers" to handle the dialogue separately.
Milnes' Escamillo captures him at his virile best -- taught, mellifluous, and perfectly arrogant in the part. Even his emergence in the final act as a rival to José comes off as more than just a convenient (or inconvenient if you're José) plot twist. He seems genuinely smitten with Carmen.
Ileana Cotrubas is unusually convincing as Micaëla -- a role that in the wrong hands can seem like just an excuse for one more aria. Her innocence, her devotion, her genuine affection for José, and the resolve she develops during "Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante" make the beauty of her music that much more meaningful.