Recorded live in 1959 in Palermo and sung in Italian in a remarkably verismo-like style, this Carmen thrills over and over again–but it may not be to everyone’s taste precisely for that reason. The orchestra is rag-tag and the chorus is almost worse, but none of that matters: the draw here is the four soloists. To my ears, Giulietta Simionato is a weak point. Her Carmen is obvious and blowsy, with little grace or charm, but she’s exciting and she sings her heart out, and her fans will not need urging. Franco Corelli is out-of-this-world. This is Don José as Chenier, Canio, and Cavaradossi rolled into one. His tone is bright and brilliant with a baritonal low range, and if he doesn’t quite manage the pianissimo B-flat near the end of the Flower Song, at least he does (in mid-aria) take an A-flat in full voice and then draw it back into a whisper almost endlessly. He’s so passionate in the final scene, yelling and bawling, that he’s practically visible. It’s a field day of a performance.
The very young Mirella Freni sings Micaela the way you’d always hoped to hear it–virginally, exquisitely. Gian Giacomo Guelfi was a go-for-broke, big-voiced baritone who snarls his way into Escamillo, and he has all the notes for the role. Pierre Dervaux is a willing co-conspirator in this anti-French performance. It may not be the Carmen of Bizet’s dreams, but it’s a knockout. The sound is just up to acceptable. You’ll love it.
