Carmen on Cockatoo Island – REVIEW

While the clear, starry skies that blessed the opening night of Carmen on Cockatoo Island aren’t guaranteed for all performances, the flashy production, high decibel delivery, and grungy rock vibe are.  

Opera Australia’s new outdoor venture puts stage and audience right out in the middle of the harbour and shakes the very foundations of this unique World Heritage Listed site. 

It’s a risky experiment for Australia’s preeminent arts organisation, but that’s what makes it exciting. Whether it works or not will have a lot to do with your appreciation of subversive creativity and tolerance for an environment that is not completely controlled and predictable.

Sails drift past cheekily close to the stage. A nearby flightpath is busy, though the planes are just audible rather than disruptive. The seagulls, on the other hand, have no sense of etiquette, and noisy gate-crashers squawk directly above the stage, though thankfully, not very often. 

The night begins with a 10 – 15 min ferry trip from King St Wharf (shuttle), Barangaroo/ Circular Quay (public transit), or wherever (water taxi). You’ll arrive at Cockatoo Island and be ushered to the pre-show area where hundreds of wooden picnic tables have been arranged in rows. You can grab a snack and bevvy at one of the pop-up drink and food tents or the rustic, under cover restaurant, The Merchant Mealhouse. 

There is strictly no BYO allowed in the venue.  That’s a bummer because unfortunately the food tent was overwhelmed and the circle of hungry patrons waiting for orders looked ready to pounce like seagulls on a chip every time a name was called.

The seating area for the performance is very low key – plastic chairs all on ground level which, given that some of the action takes place at ground level just in front of the stage, is a disadvantage to people not in the first few rows. Also, the ground is stony and uneven, so this is not the night for your new Manolo Blahniks. Bring a cardi, the evening sea-breeze is fresh. 

The stage is impressive – a massive rig of scaffolding very similar to those of classic stadium rock concerts. The back wall resembles a corrugated-iron side of a warehouse and is used to host projections during the performance. At the base of the wall is a pile of old cars, oil barrels, crates and random junk. Plastic crates are stacked underneath and around the stage. 

The industrial set design by Mark Thompson complements the natural surrounds; a giant disused crane at the side of the audience area can easily be mistaken for part of the set. His costume design is not as consistent. It’s a mixture of heavy rock, punk, goth, military, ‘50s pop idol and ‘80s second-hand chic. With various prints and accessories to look it it can sometimes be a little too busy. 

The aforementioned projections on the back wall suffer from a real lack of purpose bordering on being intrusive and sometimes tumbling over into absurdity. Flipping death cards and tattoo designs add little, and the content warning sign near the finale is actually a bit on the nose. 

In the same vein, the three roaring motorbikes thundering up and down the centre aisle and across the front of the stage can barely be seen by most of the crowd except when they do wheelies. On the one occasion when a motorbike mounts the stage to act as a kind of metallic bull it just – well it just doesn’t work. 

What works better is the choreography by Shannon Burns, which combines RnB and rap styles with classic theatre dance, filling the vast expanse of stage with movement.

What works best is the singing and acting from the lead cast. Director, Liesel Badorrek has innovated the original characters without changing the overall narrative. Carmen Topciu plays Carmen (alternating with Sian Sharp) in slick, black leather pants, lacy bustier tops, and an Amy Winehouse do. Topciu is in fine voice, totally owning the signature tunes, and filling the arena space with her personality. 

Roberto Aronica (alternates with Diego Torre) is sullen and a little menacing as the brooding Don Josè.  Daniel Sumegi (alternates with Alexander Sefton) is a vain, ‘50s pop idol type, possibly more into himself than Carmen. Danita Weatherstone (alternates with Rebecca Gulinello) is prim and coquettish in a frilled circle-skirt, bobbed hair with hair-band and demur manner, although when she sings she really knocks it out of the harbour. 

Everyone else in the ensemble is, of course, equally good. 

This is not an adventure for the purists; it’s for those who like to experience established arts in a new way. It’s visceral event that will stimulate all the senses and leave you humming the tunes. 

Until December 18

Eastern Apron and Bolt Wharf, Cockatoo Island, Sydney Harbour

https://opera.org.au/productions/carmen-on-cockatoo-island