Elīna Garanča's Habanera
The Aria is Carmen's grand entrance. As she steps out of the cigarette factory in Seville into the bustling town square, a crowd of admirers gathers. When will you love us? they implore. Carmen confidently hovers around them and recites her truth:
“When will I love you?
Good Lord, I don’t know,
Maybe never, maybe tomorrow...
But not today, that’s for sure!
Love is a rebellious bird
That no one can tame
And it’s all in vain to call it
If it chooses to refuse
Nothing works, threat or prayer”
The role has been played by icons. Maria Callas' 1964 studio recording under Georges Prêtre is thought to be a benchmark, although she never sang the complete role on stage. Teresa Berganza portrayed her in Edinburgh in 1977 as an intelligent, dignified woman who wished to be free. Agnes Baltsa's is one of my favorites: Her Carmen was fiery and volatile and her singing was flawless and full of color.
And then there is Elīna Garanča's Habanera. The standard claim is that she defined the role for modern audiences, but her 2010 performance at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City makes one think that the role was always meant for her. As if we had been waiting since 1875 for her to take it on. Her Carmen is not just a flirt: She combines the dignity of Berganza's and the ferocity of Baltsa's with a certain impossible playfulness that is full of sexual magnetism. Like Baltsa’s, her vocals are impeccable, but she takes the acting to a new level of sensuality. Yes, this must have been easier in 2010 than in the times of Berganza, but it is hard to think of a more seductive performance in the history of opera. She moves in the body language of desire, she washes her body and we become witnesses of the firmness of her legs and her breast, she teases her male suitors and playfully but firmly delivers the kind of hard truth that has made men (real and fictional) go mad for ages. Much of the important work in literature and other disciplines has tried to grapple with the theme, which is what makes Habanera, like most great opera, so universal and so dramatically foundational. It is a certain difficult truth about the love of women:
“One speaks well, the other stays quiet
And it’s the quiet one I prefer
He hasn’t said a word, but I like him
Love! Love! Love! Love!
Love is a Bohemian child
It has never, ever known a law
If you don’t love me, I love you
If I love you, watch out!
If you don’t love me
If you don’t love me, I love you!
But if I love you
If I love you, watch out!
The bird you thought you could catch
Flapped its wings and flew away
Love is far, you can wait for it
You don’t wait anymore, it’s here!”
