TV REVIEWS : Telegenic Carmen Receives Her Due

There’s more than meets the eye and ear in the Royal Opera’s “Carmen” (at 5 and 9 tonight on cable’s A&E;). Intriguing performances by Maria Ewing and Luis Lima, yes--when the camera does not divert attention from the main business at hand. But also a tale of two cities, wherein a coveted telecast denied in New York did happen in London.

Ewing, in the title role, abruptly departed the Metropolitan Opera six years ago when passed over for the screened performance of “Carmen” that was promised her. Now, with this 1991 video of a production later staged (in revised form) at the Music Center, Covent Garden has compensated.

Among other things, it’s a welcome chance to hear Ewing again in her lower, original range, which she exploits to luscious, insinuating effect. Besides being eminently telegenic, this Carmen emerges with her complex persona intact--not a simple hedonist or stock femme fatale, but one whose playful gambits and subtle sarcasm are more than they seem.

At every opportunity she shows a semi-paranoid core--earlier just hints of it and then a full-fledged belief system that puts her on an unwavering course to doom.

Lima boasts an equally compelling screen presence. His Don Jose is a thing of nuanced naturalism. He’s wonderful to watch and commands a tenor of timbral beauty that he uses with great poise and lyric refinement.

Together they create just the right histrionic balance, benefiting from this version with the original dialogue. Another bonus is Leontina Vaduva, who, as Micaela, showcases an altogether remarkable voice--one that gathers a sense of urgency in its gleaming display. But Gino Quilico resembles a banker more than the flamboyant Escamillo and struggles, in the Toreador Song, with low notes as well as pitch.

Seeming ubiquitous on television this month, Zubin Mehta delivers all of Bizet’s big orchestral moments while not necessarily clarifying the excitement that swirls within.

Unfortunately, Nuria Espert’s staging--which here dispenses with such controversial touches as Carmen’s silent appearance during the overture and having the factory girls clamber from the audience to the stage--succumbs to Barrie Gavin’s perverse TV direction.

It involves closeups of a chorister’s lit cigarette, another’s shoe, etc. Worst of all, Lima’s last stanza of the Flower Song, becomes a voice-over as the camera fixes on Ewing’s face.