When it comes to dancing in an opera, less is more

In many a production of the opera “Carmen,” just when the female lead should be commanding center stage, professional dancers take to the floor to perform a percussive flamenco dance with dramatic flair.

Frederika Brillembourg will sing the lead role in the Sarasota Opera's production of "Carmen." / Herald Tribune photo by Dan Wagner

That has never felt quite right to Martha Collins, stage director for the Sarasota Opera’s production of “Carmen” that opens next weekend.

“I always felt that was a copout,” says Collins, a Canadian native with a long résumé as both an opera and concert performer. “Carmen should be the sexiest person on that stage. But the challenge is to have enough dance without it interfering with the singing.”

So when the opera began planning for the current production, Collins and and Greg Trupiano, the company’s artistic administrator, made a trip up to St. Petersburg to catch a performance by Carolina “La Candela” Esparza, a Tampa native born to a Sevillan mother who began dancing flamenco at the age of 6. They went not to ask her to perform, but to engage her services as a dance coach for Carmen (Fredrika Brillembourg) and her two sidekicks, Mercédes (Vira Slywotzky) and Frasquita (Sarah Asmar).

“They asked the right person because I’ve always been an opera fan,” says Esparza, founder of the Candela Flamenco Dance Company, who has been commuting to Sarasota from St. Pete three days a week since the beginning of January. “But at the end of the day, I am a flamenco dancer they brought in to help them carry out their vision, not mine. They’re the opera experts.”

So instead of dancers who don’t sing, this production will feature singers who dance … a little.

Brillembourg, who has spent most of her career in Europe, has sung in more than 80 performances of “Carmen” — mostly contemporary versions — but has never danced in one. Her training consists of a few elementary lessons she took with a flamenco teacher in Berlin as prep for Sarasota and her rehearsal, the 10 minutes she spends every morning warming up her fingers with castanets.

“I’ve done versions in a black jumpsuit or, if it was folkloric, it was making fun of it and I was in a dress with big polka dots,” she says. “But what I’ve never done before is a traditional production. But it’s incredibly important how you move to be Carmen. You have to inhabit this woman.”

Choreographer and flamenco dancer Carolina Esparza works with Sarah Asmar on the dancing that will take place in the Sarasota Opera's production of "Carmen." / Herald Tribune photo by Dan Wagner

Brillembourg says it is easy to get into the movement of the character with this production’s emphasis on a traditional characterization and surroundings, and with strict adherence to the Bizet score, right down to the composer’s notations.

“With a gypsy blouse, a big skirt and an open corset, you automatically move differently,” she says. “You hold your body a little differently just by what you’re wearing.”

Esparza discovered early on that her original vision of her job was a little too dance-centric. Not only did the singers have no experience, it was clear that the vocal and breath demands of singing opera simply preclude the ability to do a lot of stomping and twirling simultaneously.

“There’s a reason why every picture you see of me dancing has my nostrils flaring,” Esparza says, laughing.

When asked if Esparza had to scale back her original choreographic ideas, Collins says, “Completely.”

“As a dancer, she wanted to fill every beat with dance, but a singer is already filling every beat with singing. We’ve adapted to what makes the singers look great and spontaneous. It’s convincing if you do less, but do it really well.”

Esparza says she instead focused on capturing the Spanish feeling and flair without the technical aspects of the dance, which can take a lifetime to learn.

“There is something flamenco dancers call duende — it’s the spirit, the aura,” she says. “Flamenco dancers say, if you do it without duende, it is not flamenco. I think they are understanding the concept; feeling it more and not just memorizing steps.”

As Esparza and Collins gather with the female singers and an accompanist in a second-floor rehearsal room two weeks before the opening, it’s clear the coaching is paying off. Slywotsky and Asmar do most of the set choreographed steps, leaving Brillembourg to “dance” primarily through her hand movements, short percussion bursts of castanet and some dramatic waving of a manton de Mantilla, a traditional embroidered shawl with long fringe.

“There are definitely times I’m feeling awkward,” Slywotzky complains to Esparza, “but I’m loving it.”

Brillembourg works with Esparza on the use of the the manton, an embroidered Spanish shawl with long fringe. / Herald Tribune photo by Dan Wagner

Collins watches with a critical eye, but her comments are always supportive and good-natured.

“You are just too musical,” she says, asking Asmar for less hand action. “I don’t want you to conduct for me. Let it be slower, more sinuous.”

Watching Brillembourg move the shawl from side to side in front of her, Collins says to Esparza: “Do you think we could change that? It doesn’t look the same on her as you.”

Esparza grins.

“Well, of course not. She doesn’t do it like me just like I can’t sing like her.”

After a moment’s thought, Esparza has Brillembourg instead drape the shawl in a powerful way from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Collins is delighted, responding with a slightly bawdy comment that refers to a certain restaurant known for busty waitresses.

Everyone dissolves into laughter.

“We don’t want you to look like professional dancers,” Collins instructs. “We want you to look like gypsies having fun in a bar. Embrace it. Revel in it. Sexy, sensual.”

Taking the words to heart, Brillembourg dons castanets for the scene in which she seduces Don José — in this case, Collins, who is standing in for the male lead with an appropriately lecherous leer.

Afterward, Brillembourg turns to Collins and asks with a worried tone: “Was that enough dance?”

“More than enough,” says Collins, smiling. “More than enough.”