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Minutes
February
13, 2002
Carmen
The
film “Carmen” was directed by Carlos Saura and starred Antonio Gades,
Laura del Sol, Paco de Lucía, and Christina Hoyos.
Saura’s interpretation of this classic includes many twists in
acts and perceptions that challenge the audience to discern what is real
and what is fantasy. This trend begins early in the production with the entrance
of “Carmen”, played by
del Sol, who represents the sole actor in the movie that uses a
fictional name. As the
movie begins we see Antonio running auditions for his flamenco style
presentation of the classic story of Carmen.
However, when he is unsuccessful in finding a suitable
“Carmen” he travels to Sevilla in hopes of finding a more fitting
dancer for the part. What
he finds is a hot-blooded gypsy woman with little dance background,
moderate dedication, and wildly unpredictable/uncontrollable
personality. From the very
first audition it was plain to see that Carmen would do as she pleased
when she begins the audition with a cigarette in her mouth, seemingly
unprepared and uninterested knowing that she already could get Antonio
to give her anything she wanted.
The
scene then jumps to the subsequent rehearsals in which Christina is
working Carmen, pulling her out of lines and making her practice
different moves. After
Antonio calls Christina into his office we realize that this is because
she, as the better dancer, feels that she should have been the choice
for the part of Carmen. Antonio
informs her that she is just too old for the part, but would appreciate
it greatly if she could help shape Carmen into the perfect “Carmen”
that he sees her as potentially.
As
the next few scenes pass the relationship between Carmen and Antonio
becomes increasingly physical and intimate until they finally sleep with
each other following a dance scene where Antonio dances for Carmen that
mirrors an earlier scene in which Carmen is in the same dance space in
front of the same mirror and Antonio is attempting to force Carmen to
feel the music and dance what she hears and feels and to make everyone
else believe she IS Carmen and not simply portraying her on the stage.
The
first major twist of the movie comes when we learn that Carmen is
married to a drug trafficker that is just finishing the end of his term.
His arrival starts a rapid downward spiral in the mind of Antonio
who finds himself torn between the lies Carmen tells him that he so
desperately wants to believe and the obvious truth which everyone else
seems to be able to see but him. The camera seems to capture all Antonio’s perceptions and
fantasies such as the fight after the card game. Since this is not an element I remember from the story of
Carmen I believe it was put
in the film to show Antonio acting upon the feelings he felt when he met
Carmen’s husband but held back at the time.
This also shows through in Antonio’s perceptions of Carmen as
his idealized woman. When
he begins to see through her guise, these perceptions break down and the
accompanying camera breaks harshly, which jerks both Antonio and the
audience from the “dream” that Antonio is trying to achieve that we
know will never come to pass.
All
the while the “Carmen” off the stage parallels that of the
“Carmen” on stage and Saura shows us all the blurry lines between
them, which keeps the audience guessing which scenes are real and which
are false only to be revealed at the end of each scene.
Towards the end the lines blur even further and the result are
some very ambiguous scenes and a very open ending.
The way the movie ends brings conclusion to the two intertwined
stories at the same time, and depending on what you would like to
believe while you are watching the film this could either be the finale
of the stage production or that of the real life stage production.
The Saura intentionally uses the doorway to block the audience
from the truth showing the figure of Carmen and Antonio’s action
through only the shadows projected on the door.
This completes the ambiguous ending as there could be a case made
for either ending and therefore your mind writes the truth and it cannot
be wrong.
Carmen
Capsule
by Dave Kehr
From the Chicago Reader
While producing a ballet of Carmen, a choreographer (Antonio
Gades) finds himself reenacting the tempestuous plot with his passionate
leading lady (Laura del Sol). The obviousness of the idea is exceeded
only by the triteness of execution in this film by Carlos Saura (Cria);
just enough pretentiousness is laid over the sterile concept to make it
a real classy night out for the folks who've been yearning to see an
"art film." The dancing is not so bad, and it might have been
interesting to see how it was developed, but Saura isn't concerned with
anything as mundane as the creative process: the action is set in a
rehearsal hall, but nobody rehearses. Instead, Saura is after the big
enchilada: the film reveals, to the astonishment of all concerned, that
Life Imitates Art. Del Sol is a born smolderer, but Gades's constant
preening takes the edge off whatever eroticism Saura is able to stir
(1983).
Date:
30 June 1999
Summary: "Ojos De Gitana, Ojos De Lobo"
Filmed in Spain by
Spaniards, this is a Spanish tale based on a French novel and the French
opera which it inspired. Saura's flamenco "Carmen" is an
exciting work of art.
A modern ensemble of musicians and dancers is rehearsing a flamenco
interpretation of the Carmen story. The producer and star dancer is
Antonio (Antonio Gades). The setting appears to be suburban Madrid, but
we see so little of the world outside the rehearsal room that it hardly
matters. Antonio has done his research, and has become obsessed with the
Carmen legend. He chooses a girl named Carmen to play 'his' Carmen, and
life begins tragically to imitate art ...
The opening credits are backed by Dore prints with Bizet playing. This
is clearly going to be a production which makes clever use of the
many-layered Carmen myth. And so it proves. Antonio pores over his copy
of Merimee, and as a knot of singers and guitarists breaks into an
improvised buleria, we hear Bizet jarringly overlaid. Antonio is being
pulled in two directions, simultaneously possessed by the duende of
authentic flamenco and lured by the bewitching Carmen of 19th-century
romanticism. One current, the flamenco, is spontaneous and natural, the
other is unSpanish and highly theatrical. Both are warring and
fermenting within Antonio's psyche.
Cats don't come when you call them, observes Antonio, and they come when
you don't call. Herein is the essence of Carmen's wild character.
Antonio has Cristina as his senior dancer (the marvellous Cristina Hoyos),
but as he tells her, good though she is, she is not 'the' Carmen. He
travels to Seville (where else?) in search of his ideal, and there he
finds his leading lady - and his nemesis. The young gypsy beauty
scrambles into the dance class late, her unruly dignity immediately
apparent, and we see in Antonio's face that he knows. This is 'his'
Carmen.
The film's artistic conceit is a subtle movement between actuality and
fantasy, echoing the conflict between the truth of flamenco and the
falseness of the Bizet Carmen. Are Cristina and Carmen at each other's
throats in real life, or is this Antonio's heated imagination expanding
on the Tabacalera clash? Is the Habanera scene a straightforward
rehearsal, or Antonio's reverie? Does Carmen really appear wearing the
high comb and mantilla, or has Antonio succumbed to the myth?
Antonio 'sculpts' Carmen, teaching the youngster how to dance, and how
to feel the dance. He pushes her hard and makes enormous physical
demands of her, yet from the first cigarette the dynamics are
established - Carmen is unknowable, untameable. Antonio will end by
destroying his creation. He is Don Jose, and he can't help it.
In this deeply attractive film, some scenes transcend even the excellent
norm. Such a scene is the Tabacalera number. The women pound the tables
in a flamenco rhythm as they sing the haunting "Don't Go Near The
Brambles". The hostility between Cristina and Carmen boils over
into violence, faithfully reproducing Merimee and Bizet, and all
portrayed in dance. As Antonio arrives in the role of Don Jose to arrest
the gypsy wildcat, Bizet's tragic motif begins to play.
Carmen and Antonio drink a glass of manzanilla together, symbolically
cementing their relationship. At her bidding, Antonio dances the Farruca,
the 'baile jondo', the key which unlocks the secret of flamenco.
Aroused, Carmen joins in, and the dance (always a metaphor for
copulation) merges into actual lovemaking. But delight is followed by
disappointment. At 2am, Antonio wakes to find Carmen grabbing her
clothes and slipping away. It is futile to ask why. She is Carmen.
Antonio dances alone in the rehearsal room. The room's stark cuboid,
with its whole-wall mirror, makes an interesting contrast with his
fluid, mobile form. Does dancing help him think? Do his thoughts inspire
his dance? The image of a man moving beautifully in a bare box of a room
is one of the film's quiet triumphs.
At this crucial point in their blossoming love affair, Carmen and
Antonio begin to take divergent paths. This is intelligently depicted by
the use of parallel scenes. Antonio sweeps open the drapes to let in the
first light of a new day while, somewhere else, electronic grilles part
in a parody of Antonio's curtains to admit Carmen to a prison. She is
visiting the jailbird husband whom she doesn't love. Antonio has grown
emotionally: Carmen is a low-life hustler incapable of change. In a
Christ-like gesture, Antonio drinks a solitary glass of manzanilla, the
cup of the passion which will not pass him by.
The best scene of the film, straddling reality and fantasy, ordinariness
and high artifice, dance and dialogue, is the poker game. The jailbird
Jose Fernandez has left prison and joined the troupe. There is a
powerful flamenco dance in which Antonio and the gitano confront each
other and fight. Afterwards, as he gets up from the floor, Jose removes
his wig and others gather round, solicitous for his well-being. Once
more, the film has drawn us into an emotional conflict, only to strip
away the illusion.
Other treasures abound. The corrida is lovingly depicted in mock-dance,
with balletic veronicas and a silent faena: then there is the
'dance-off' between a jealous Antonio and an imperious Carmen, with
their contrasting rhythmic signatures: and the squalor of betrayal and
abuse in which the story culminates. The presence of Paco de Lucia,
legendary guitarist and the scion of a great flamenco dynasty, is in
itself a certificate of the film's artistic authenticity.
Verdict - a superb, unfussy modern work which captures the strong
flavour of this ancient Spanish folk-art on film.
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