A Workshop/Fundraiser of Loose TEA Theatre's newest remaining of Bizet’s Carmen.

This workshop presentation of a modern concept of Carmen shines a spotlight on systemic misogyny and the affects of PTSD, while uniquely orchestrated for piano and Sound Artist, Slowpitchsound. Sung in English with a new libretto by Director Alaina Viau, and Music Directed by Jennifer Tung.

Featuring Erica Iris as Carmen, Ryan Harper as John Anderson (Don Jose), Beth Hagerman as Michaela and Andrey Andreychik as Ricardo (Escamillo)

Doors open at 7:00 for a Silent auction and concept talk by Alaina Viau. Performance at 8:00 pm until 9:00

Funds raised will go towards the further development of this piece

Scholar Craig Butosi writes about our new Carmen:

If one asks why Carmen is so notable, many will point to the musical elements that define it, such as the Habanera aria or Escamillo’s La Toreador. And they would be correct. If one asks what Carmen is about, many will give a familiar answer: It is about a soldier in southern Spain, Don José, who falls madly in love with a flirtatious gypsy, Carmen. Her affections eventually turn to another, Escamillo, and, out of a jealous, righteous rage, Don José prematurely ends Carmen’s life for her betrayal of his love.

But is it as simple as this? This narrative, which reproduces long held stereotypes about women as second-class, corrupting agents, foul temptresses, and mythical sirens who lead men astray from their honourable pursuits, has long stood as the de facto interpretation of Carmen.

Loose TEA Theatre resoundingly disagrees with this reading, and offers us a welcome and refreshing change of perspective, one that completely shatters what Laura Mulvey has called the cinematic male gaze that has too long defined the parameters of how we absorb much of our cultural history, be it cinema or opera.

This isn’t a love story. It is a class story, a gendered story, one that is driven by inequality and abuses of power; yet, also by conflict, struggle, and hope.

Loose TEA’s Carmen is radically revisionist. It is an opera from below, from the perspective of Carmen herself, as much more than a gypsy outcast, an object of desire, or victim. It is from the viewpoint of a woman negotiating her lot within the terrain of a gendered, violent, and class society, whose positions of power are largely occupied – and abused – by men. Is Carmen really the exotic temptress who toys with Don José’s heart? Is she not simply a working woman forced, by her social position, to interact with the soldiers of the Spanish military elite, eventually leading to her undoing?

This production of Carmen demands that we not only radically reinterpret the way we see her, but also from where we see her. We are enjoined to no longer see her through the eyes of Don José. The immediacy and topicality of this perspective is necessary, especially today when gender inequality and gender inequity appear as acute as ever: in politics, in the media, and in the workplace. It is a reminder that so many of us are Carmen (and not by choice); but, in recognizing this, it is also a reminder of a unassailable hope to tip the scales in favour of a society that is more egalitarian, which sees men and women as true equals in a world of inequality.