At the Paris Opera, a 'Carmen' in Search of Catharsis PARIS - Three years ago the mezzo-soprano Anna Caterina Antonacci scored a major success as Carmen at the Opéra Comique here, so when the Paris Opéra decided on a new production of Bizet's opera at Opéra Bastille, it was only natural for her to reprise the title role. Unfortunately, while in some respects Ms. Antonacci's portrayal is as arresting as ever, the new production by Yves Beaunesne fails to bring out the best in her or, indeed, to do much for the opera. Frequently, a less-than-satisfactory production will be especially remembered for one or two inopportune moments that should have been squelched early on, and so it is here. When the jilted Don José, in a last, desperate attempt to patch things up with his gypsy lover, appears in the final scene, he carries a couple of suitcases. Suitcases are nothing new in productions these days, but Don José's actually contain something: a wedding dress for his beloved, which he pathetically drapes over her. And if there is any opera character who doesn't need to look even more pathetic than he is at this point, it is this ruined soldier. I've always found the final scene of puzzling. Why does this strong woman allow herself to be murdered? It's admirable not to fear death and to accept the dictates of fate bravely, but you don't have to just let it happen. In any case, the sight of the wedding dress ruled out any possibility of catharsis. Elsewhere in the production other gimmicks take the place of thoughtful direction of the principals. Mr. Beaunesne is at his best in the massed scenes. Lillas Pastia's tavern is a place for kinky sex, as we see from a motley assortment of characters that roll in on a flatbed trailer, including - judging from his/her height of about seven feet - a transvestite bearing (and baring) fake breasts. The festivities at the start of Act 4, which include acrobats, jugglers, stilts-walkers and people imitating bulls, are also fun. But these are decorative scenes that are peripheral to the heart of the drama. The best thing that can be said for Damien Caille-Perret's single set - the large courtyard of a building - is that it proves more versatile than you might think. But what of the roof, which consists just of dark beams? It is under construction, or is it in ruins, or is it maybe some idealization of a roof? Hard to say. The action is updated to the 1970s, apparently to facilitate parallels to early films by Pedro Almodóvar. Jean-Daniel Vuillermoz's costumes vividly comply with imaginative details and bursts of color. Ms. Antonacci herself brings to mind another cinematic personage, for the singer wears a Marilyn Monroe wig. Don't ask why. At least we are spared images of her skirt blown up by subterranean gusts. Ms. Antonacci doesn't even wear a pleated skirt, but her modish dress makes her look as though she has come from lunch at a fancy Seville restaurant rather than from work in a cigarette factory. Yet Carmen has a personality that transcends her humble status, so while this Carmen seemed out of place, Ms. Antonacci made her seem convincing, especially when one factors in the singer's characteristically intelligent approach to sex appeal. The latter extends to the care and purposefulness of her delivery of text, so that her every utterance commands attention. Her tone is amply rich and sultry as well. In another twist by Mr. Beaunesne, this Carmen fascinates even children. During a pause between Acts 3 and 4, a small boy comes up to her, and the two go off together. Here is a Carmen who apparently has motherly instincts. (Is that why Don José is so attracted to her? Let's not go there.) Nikolai Schukoff, in his é debut, sings Don José, but was apparently not in particularly good voice for the premiere. Here and there he sounded impressive, although his Flower Song was a nonevent. Genia Kühmeier sings Micaela with a voice of surpassing loveliness if not a great deal of personality, and Ludovic Tézier brings macho energy and vocal robustness to the toreador, Escamillo. Philippe Jordan conducts with his usual verve and musicality but could pay greater heed to the darker currents of the score. The opera is performed with spoken dialogue - and quite a bit of it - in accordance with the original practice of the Opéra Comique, for which "Carmen" was written. In fact, today's most popular French opera long remained the province of that theater. Only in 1959 did "Carmen" come to the Opéra; the new production is the third at the Bastille. "Carmen" is at the Opera Bastille in Paris through Dec. 29; it can be seen in selected movie theaters on Dec. 13.