Learn the Steps and Let Go with ‘Carmen: To Havana & Back’ (Review)

Edward Mylechreest
No Proscenium
Published in
7 min readDec 12, 2018

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A new, sequined twist (and side-step, and cha-cha-cha) on Bizet’s classic

Photos courtesy of Adrian Buckmaster

Stashing my drivers license away, I thank the bouncer and make my way through a nondescript door, and down two flights of stairs into the depths of an underground club. I pass by men in smart suits with open, collared shirts and women with beautiful dresses with bright colors and floral designs. It is a very well-dressed crowd of people. I am reminded of the trailers for Mad Men which Netflix has been sending my way (which I will watch it eventually, I swear).

As I push my way past the bar, where they are only serving rum drinks, the band strikes up. The Cuban quintet welcomes us further into the space with their music, as the sultry sounds of a solo trombone rhythm reverberates around the room. We are transported somewhere in the middle of Havana.

Suddenly the lights are extinguished, the band falters, and a man in the crowd, somewhere to my right, falls to his knees and yells out in anguish — “Carmen!”

I am a big fan of Bizet’s classic opera (having taught it to four 8th grade classes for 3 years) which itself is based on the novella by Prosper Mérimée. Having been such a staple of the operatic tradition for so many years, Carmen feels like a familiar folk tale passed down. So I was eager to see what this ’50s inspired dance production might bring to the well-loved story of love, passion, and death.

As the lights are brought back up, three scantily clad women in traditional Havana salsa club attire (brightly colored sequined two-piece costumes) are greeted by three devilishly handsome men, making their way to a raised platform in the middle of the dance floor. The trio of partners begins to dance, moving freely and passionately with the Latin music behind them. They twist and turn all around the space, arms flinging wildly, with the lights of the club shining off their outfits. Then in one quick movement they turn in unison, to welcome a newcomer to the stage.

There she stands, the woman of the hour: Carmen. The yellow spotlight turns her silver-sequined bikini golden and she positively glows from the stage. She is stunning and every eye in the room is on her. As she stands, she oozes sexuality — it is not hard to see why men would lose their minds for her. When she dances, she moves with grace, poise, and passion, and the suddenly un-partnered men line up to dance with her next. As each song ends, she effortlessly throws her hand up into the air as if to say that the entire world is hers and that you are privileged just to be in her presence.

The choreography by Chelsea Ainsworth, Jessica Castro, Desiree Godsell and Doron Perk throughout Carmen is electric, with desire being conveyed in every step. The mix of improvisation, fluid partnering, and sudden moments of in-unison movement are incredible. It is easy to forget that this entire evening has been meticulously designed and rehearsed, simply because the movement feels so of the moment and natural to a salsa club in Havana. With the two-story club acting as our sandbox to move around in, dance lurks behind every secluded corner.

With us having met the glamorous Carmen, a man next enters the ring, and his adoring fans immediately flock to him, as cameras flash brightly onto his mostly unbuttoned shirt. This dark-haired man must be Escamillio, the celebrity bullfighter. My hunch is proven correct, thanks to the audio clue delivered by the house band. (I’m not sure how many of the patrons tonight are fans of the opera, but for those of us who are, musical Easter eggs abound.) For the first time this evening, not all the attention is on Carmen, but certainly her attention is on this new arrival to the fray.

The main cast of characters are not the only talent on display. A flamboyant juggler, who made use of all the balls at his disposal, both those man-made and god-given. A hula hoop artist performs with hoops that illuminate the entire room. A contortionist, through a Cuban-cigar created smoke shield, transforms himself into increasingly impossible shapes. These acts seem to add little to the narrative of the evening, but instead provide a moment of entertainment during down moments. Even the main players of the club sit back and enjoy these magnificent performances.

The narrative of the evening plays out with very little dialogue, but a whole lot of yelling, whooping and howling. It is like every dancer has brought their own personal fan club with them tonight. The little amounts of text is in Spanish, but context and witty musical commentary provided by the band means that even this Brit with a below elementary Spanish-speaking skills can follow along. At one point, Carmen’s scorned ex-lover Don Jose, wails and tries to reconnect with his love, and I immediately recognize the Latin arrangement of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” (for those of my generation perhaps better known as the animated alien song). I particularly enjoyed the references to the original opera made by the band, be it small snippets of the “Fate” theme or the salsa arrangement of the famous “Toreador’s song.”

Those who are close enough to the performers (read: those who have paid premium for reserved seating), may be invited to be join in with the dancing, or at the very least to get an eyeful of sequined beauty. This level of interaction unfortunately does not quite transfer to the rest of the audience, as performers are often moving from one location to the next with little interest in interacting with the audience. They are quite happy to continue their own private conversations, to offer a prayer at a previously hidden altar, or to silently and passionately make out with each other, never mind who else is there. Like the another famous Carmen (Carmen Sandiego), it is up to you to search and find the main character if you want to interact with her. This all the more gives the sensation of simply being another patron in this salsa club; you are free to roam around and enjoy to your pleasure, but no one is here for you — they are here for the club. No area is out of bounds for “play” in this show, and exploration is key to getting the most out of this evening. For example, I was the sole witness to the man who took cocaine for some last-minute courage in a darker corner of the club. But for the one or two of us who were stalking the characters Sleep No More style, there was little pay off.

And perhaps someone should have warned the real-life security of the club what the production had in store. At one moment, as an impassioned Carmen and Escamillio move their affections into the restrooms; a crowd quickly follows the lovers, much to the alarm of the poor security man on duty. Immersive show stage managers have notoriously difficult jobs at the best of time, but here the task was not only to make sure the show ran smoothly, but also to coerce and move a very real club scene crowd into areas so that performers could move through and meet their cues.

The creators of Carmen: To Havana & Back have taken the key elements of the familiar tale, and have boldly created a risky and risqué new production which is deliciously hedonistic. Carmen is a spectacle in every sense, and is a feast for the senses. It was even enough to make this very white writer start to move his hips. The dark tale of unrequited love for a seductress with not a care in the world translates so well to this Latin nightclub setting. So wherever this production of Carmen shows up next, be it Havana or elsewhere, with its flirtatious salsa, mysterious characters, and glorious music all night long, this is one experience worth the return trip.

Carmen: To Havana and Back has concluded but you can follow updates on upcoming showings on their site.

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Brit in NYC, trading the West End for Broadway, and still misspelling theatre apparently