Carmen (2003)

Paz Vega in her usual state of dishabille in Carmen

Vincente Aranda's Carmen, from 2003, is entertaining romantic fluff. I will make no great claim for the film, but, considering it was never released in the US and has a mediocre reputation, I was pleasantly surprised. Aranda handles the spectacle adroitly. The film is handsome without being stodgy. Costumes and sets are colorful, but the film never resembles an operetta.

Speaking of which, Aranda and his collaborators have purposefully avoided any link to Bizet's opera. This Carmen harkens back to the source of the opera, Prosper Merimee's novella. Indeed, Merimee is a character in the film, introduced traveling in Spain in 1830. He becomes entwined in the fates of Carmen and Jose, a naïve soldier who loves her. Their story is told mostly in flashback, as Jose reminisces to Merimee while he awaits being garroted (!) by the authorities for his many crimes. Jose Nieto's score provides a suitable backdrop for this passionate tragedy without stooping to invoke Bizet. Aranda also uses folk songs and Fado well. 

The conventional wisdom about the film is that the leads weren't up to snuff and lacked chemistry. I think there is some truth in this. The best performance in the film is by Jay Benedict as Merimee and he is mostly an observer of the action. Leonardo Sbaraglia is somewhat wooden, but the part is well nigh impossible. When Carmen first beds Jose, she taunts him about his virginity and Sbaraglia in no way resembles a chaste innocent. However, since Carmen has Jose by the balls throughout the film, Sbaraglia's inexpressiveness is somewhat akin to that of a callow youth who cedes his will to a wily temptress.

Paz Vega, who plays Carmen and is best known in this country for Sex and Lucia, is another kettle of fish entirely. Partly because of her beautiful bod (on full display here), she has never been taken seriously as an actress. I think she is decent here, especially with physical schtick, but the role cries out for indecency. Carmen has to be fiery and Vega never lights up the role the way Carmen's best interpreters (Maria Callas and Dorothy Dandridge) have. Victoria Abril displays more fire and eroticism with one poke of her finger in Aranda's Lovers than Vega does here.

So, the passionate spark needed for a romantic tragedy, despite much groaning, panting and sighing, is not evident. This doesn't mean Aranda misinterpreted the story, but that he and his players fell a little short. Aranda knows that Merimee was a Romantic with a capital r. The scene where Jose caresses the dead Carmen, which verges on necrophilia, demonstrates that he grasps what Mario Praz called The Romantic Agony, the linking of sexuality and mortality by the Romantics. I also enjoyed the shot of Carmen's death, an overhead shot of blood enveloping a corpse on a marble floor which is a nice tip of the hat to Hitchcock's Topaz. 

John Vernon and Karin Dor in Topaz