"Bravo to conductor Carlo Goldstein for conducting this excellent orchestra with elegance, free from any exaggeration, and with an attention to detail that did justice to this sophisticated score."  

Musica - Nicola Cattò


The piazza comes to life: here there are soldiers, women and children; a young woman is looking for one of the soldiers, and at the end of their shift the cigarette girls come out to show off their beauty. There is misery here, but with harmony at its core, as everyone has a defined role; everything progresses as it should, and everyone knows exactly who they are.But then SHE appears: Carmen has arrived on the scene!

Her arrival is nothing less than a cataclysm, unleashing uncontrollable energy that shakes the foundations of everyone and everything in its path. In one of the most perfect entrances in theatrical history, the French elegance of the first few scenes suddenly vanishes, replaced by something entirely new right before our eyes. Framed by the two major dissonances of our musical system – the ninth before the chorus’ line “Mais nous ne voyons pas la Carmencita!” and the augmented fourth(the diabolus in musica) on Carmen’s words “c’est certain!” – our heroine makes her first impression. Previously everyone was singing on the beat, and now she is singing on the upbeat: the tempo, once a lulling 6/8, is now fringed by continuous syncopes, while the insistent rhythm of the Habaneraseems to be suspended between seduction and threat.
Carmen is not the person the others would like her to be. She does not and will not do what they expect her to do. Carmen is in fact a dramatic prism, through which all the others will see their destinies turned upside down.
Throughout the opera, the most frequently sung  word  is “Carmen”: the name of the heroine is on everyone’s lips, and they all gradually develop new identities due to the relationships they establish with her.
Carmen is neither good nor evil; in contrast to Don José she has no family, no past, and no one waiting for her somewhere a long way away. We do not know anything about her except what she tells us herself: Carmen loves freedom more than anything.
Carmen is Freedom, which Bizet celebrates in all its forms, including those that are the most ambiguous and problematic: the rebellious bird of love that forms the opening metaphor, and the seductive Seguidilla, which compels the innocent to break the law and represents personal freedom prevailing over all others. The Finale of the Second Act is the collective apotheosis of an ideal and, from the dramatic Card Aria in the Third Act until the final scene, Carmen shows herself to be free even in the face of death: free to look it in the eye, free to confront it without hesitation.
Bizet has brought the Opéra Comique into the universal theater: comedy and tragedy merge with compelling anti-rhetoric to depict a new type of woman. A contemporary woman: with an indomitable love for life, complex emotions, and lack of tolerance for pressures and prejudices. A woman whose freedom knows no bounds.