“Carmen In My Head”
Ballet Moscow
Novaya Opera Theatre
Moscow, Russia
November 1, 2026
by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2026 by Ilona Landgraf
The welcoming, warm vibes of Moscow’s Novaya Opera hit me so unexpectedly that I had to sit down in the foyer before walking to the cloakroom. I know the company only from Pavel Glukhov’s The Nutcracker. Not a Fairy Tale and was curious to see Carmen In My Head by Tatiana Baganova, a contemporary dance choreographer and the artistic director of the Provincial Dances Theatre, Yekaterinburg.
Instead of re-telling the love triangle between Carmen, Don José, and Escamillo, her 2025 piece takes place in José’s mind, which is haunted by the impulses Carmen triggers.
Baganova’s “Carmen” isn’t synonymous with a person but with states of mind that manifest themselves in interaction with men. Of the multiple versions of Carmen she created, some are (at times maniacally) enraptured; others are sad, furious, or foreboding. Some are in prayer, and others are immersed in their own passion or feel non-existent. They affect ten versions of José. Larisa Lomakina’s set design (inspired by the Spanish architect Ricardo Bofill’s postmodern apartment complex La Muralla Roja) allows us to peep into their collective mind. Not a single part of it is soft-edged or curved. Instead, its angular, red and gray wall elements are assembled in a seemingly complex architecture of little practical use. Staircases lead to nowhere or zigzag up the back wall to two doorways. The orchestra pit is turned into a channel or shore with wind-blown, rustling foil representing a wavy water surface.
To prevent the music from evoking familiar concepts, Baganova avoided Bizet’s and Shchedrin’s scores for Carmen and Carmen Suite, respectively, and instead commissioned Nastasia Khrushcheva, associate professor of the St. Petersburg State Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory, to compose for a chamber orchestra. Its cellist, percussionist, and two violinists sit on a narrow podium at the right side of the stage; the pianist plays on a roofed veranda on the left side. Her trickling piano melodies mingle with nervy, high-pitched violins that sometimes whir with heat and tension. Baroque sounds alternate with repetitive cadences. Occasionally, a whispering and murmuring male choir in gray coats joins the dancers on stage, multiplying the number of Josés.
In the opening scene, they stand motionless and in silence, their eyes covered with blindfolds and unable to see the steady stream of women in white underwear gliding into the water. In the gloom, their purple mantillas with peinetas look like red hair, which made me think of a witch’s ritual. After one José dries up the waters by rolling up the foil like a human roller, leaving the women stranded, they slowly crawl out and sneak under the men’s coats like snakes. After wiggling up to their chests, the coats unbutton and release women suddenly wearing purple dresses. They stare at the audience, lower the mantillas over their faces, and caress the men, who only then take off the blindfolds.
This Fall-of-Man-like incident sets off a power play between the sexes. Like poles running on an alternating current, José and Carmen jerk from appeal to revulsion and vice versa. Moments later, one Carmen bites heartily into a fruit (an orange, not an apple), underscoring the forfeit of paradise.
As a result, Carmens chastise Josés and get chastised. They appear as both whores and goddesses. Sitting on the backs of the men who lay on their bellies, the women’s knees clasp around the men’s heads to force them up. Although the men’s mouths open in a silent scream, they eagerly rest their heads in the women’s laps like little boys in need of mama.
One Carmen frees herself from a forced embrace; another submits to a wanton grip only to leave her José looking sheepish; a third fleet-footedly climbs the staircase with José at her heel until he stumbles over his own feet. In another chase upstairs, José brutally forces Carmen’s legs apart. One José flings himself onto the ground in a vain attempt to touch Carmen’s ankle. She aims her toes at his throat like a dagger. Some Josés crouch despondently on the staircase, one pushes against a rubber band around his waist like a chained-up dog and repeatedly bounces back, and others climb to reach the object of their desires. The knife blade that suddenly flashes in José’s hand does not terrify Carmen. It cuts into her shoulder from where she takes it and slowly thrusts it into her belly. Toying with suicide seems pleasurable.
Although Escamillo isn’t on the scene, his white chaquetilla is. A Carmen in short, white pants dangles it in front of José, provoking a fight during which she attacks him like a bull (the knitted yellow cap she wears has small horns). As the atmosphere heats up further, supple and sharp movements alternate dangerously quickly.
Finally, hard, rhythmic drum beats and the intensifying “Ha’s!” of soprano Varvara Naumova accompany what looks like consummated lust, but they also call yellow-masked Carmens to the scene (costumes by Galya Solodovnikova). Their yellow flower wreaths, hollow eyes, and grinning sets of teeth are reminiscent of brides bringing death. Perhaps they are the fairies of the ballad that Naumova sings with an innocent-sounding voice. John Keats’s 1819 poem The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy is about a fairy who enchants and then abandons a knight. Whether this paralyzes the knight emotionally or kills him remains unclear.
The yellow-masked, knife-wielding woman who joins her lookalikes certainly is a fairy that has to be treated with caution. Oranges and lemons replace the fabric of her huge, metal crinoline. (The costume is inspired by the installations at the annual Lemon Festival in Menton, France.) Although the oranges are said to symbolize thirst and fertility, the three bare-chested men who wriggle from beneath the crinoline don’t look virile.
Littered with lifeless bodies and oranges fallen from the crinoline, the stage resembles a battlefield. When another masked Carmen enters, her long braids indicating her status as a bride, calm settles. The men who had followed the goings-on intently with their women from the sideline look facile. It seems marriage was what tamed them.
| Link: | Website of the Novaya Opera Theatre | |
| Photos: | 1. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev |
| 2. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev |
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| 3. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 4. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 5. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 6. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| 7. | Mark Feofilov and Ulyana Bulycheva, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 8. | Ruslan Trushkin and Alexandra Tiunova, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 9. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya |
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| 10. | Daria Komlyakova and Andrei Lega, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 11. | Maksim Isakov and Angelina Sivtseva, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 12. | Maksim Isakov and Angelina Sivtseva, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 13. | Angelina Sivtseva, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 14. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 15. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| 16. | Andrei Lega and Daria Komlyakova, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Batyr Annadurdyev | |
| 17. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| 18. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| 19. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| 20. | Ensemble, “Carmen In My Head” by Tatiana Baganova, Ballet Moscow 2026 © Novaya Opera Theatre/Ira Polyarnaya | |
| Editing: | Kayla Kauffman |
