A Fascinating Comparison: Two ‘Carmens’

Bizet: “Carmen.” Jessye Norman, Neil Shicoff, Mirella Freni, Simon Estes. Chorus of France, Orchestre National, Seiji Ozawa conducting. Philips 422 336-1 (3 compact discs).

Bizet: “Carmen.” Rise Stevens, Jan Peerce, Licia Albanese, Robert Merrill. Robert Shaw Chorale, RCA Victor Orchestra, Fritz Reiner conducting. BMG Classics 7981-2-RG (3 compact discs).

The release of Philip’s new “Carmen,” following the reissue of the classic RCA version made nearly 40 years ago, makes a fascinating comparison.

Despite a disastrous opera debut at La Scala in a 1979 “Tosca,” Ozawa continues to nurture his conceit that he is a proper conductor for musical theater. His work here verges on travesty. Whether the ludicrously slow tempi for such set pieces as the Habanera and Gypsy Song are his idea or that of his soprano-mezzo-alto (who-knows?) protagonist is open to question, but he must take full responsibility for the perverse distortion in the Act II finale, to name only one shocker. The performance is rhythmically flaccid and dramatically tepid.

Norman just might make a decent Carmen for discs (considering the physique that nature has given her, we are unlikely to experience it in the theater) if she collaborated with a knowing conductor. Her work here, however, is precious, fussy and ultimately vulgar. Shicoff offers a whining, tired sounding Jose, while Estes’ Toreador is merely ugly. Freni’s once-lustrous soprano now sounds effortful and wobbly.

This version drops the Guiraud recitatives (which RCA uses) and restores some of the spoken dialogue--a small bonus given polyglot accents that might cause De Gaulle to rise in wrath from his grave. If they should award a Grammy for High Camp Party Record of the Year, this recording is a shoo-in.

On the other hand, the Reiner “Carmen” is remarkable for its grand line, its easy lyricism flowing into taut drama seamlessly. Stevens was the Carmen of her day, and it is easy to hear why. Her singing is brilliantly disciplined with a dazzling variety of color. Above all, she gives is a convincing characterization throughout, with a savage last act that influenced more than a few subsequent interpreters of the role.

The major drawback is Peerce’s tiresome, nasal Jose. Albanese’s mature Micaela is hard-driven but still authoritative. Merrill’s sterling baritone is heard here in his best part, his dubious French accent notwithstanding. The ensemble impact is enhanced by the fact that most of the singers, including the marvelous supporting cast, had sung many performances together at the Metropolitan (only Peerce had not done his part on stage).