Carmen, the directorial debut of cinematographer and ex-principle dancer Benjamin Millepied, begins with a dance. A Mexican woman delivers a powerful flamenco, her eyes locked in defiant gaze, as if warning off the trouble she knows is coming for her. And it isn’t long before it does. An armed man arrives, asks where “she” is, and when the dancer just keeps on dancing, he shoots her in cold blood. It’s a jarring moment, especially in light of recent armed attacks against Mexicans, but it’s a propulsive start to Millepied’s visually stunning film, a loose retelling of the Prosper Mérimée novel and its many operatic adaptations.
It quickly becomes clear that this Carmen is best described as a “reimagining” than any kind of faithful remake. The themes of love, loss, and obsession are there, but that’s about where the similarities end. Melissa Barrera, showing the fire of her Scream role and the graceful energy of her In the Heights breakout, takes the title role. The dying woman implores her to flee to Los Angeles, to find a beloved friend Masilda (Almodovar favorite Rossy de Palma). “If you are my heart, she is my spine”, she says.
On the other side of the border, Oscar-nominated Aftersun actor Paul Mescal plays Aidan, a U.S. Marine returned home to Texas with nothing to show for his service to the country. He rejects the advances of women and refuses to get drunk with the other guys. His sister warns him that there’s really only one job in that part of town, joining a band of unsanctioned, unruly border patrol agents on the hunt for those entering the country illegally. It’s on one excursion that Carmen and her group are stopped by Aidan’s patrol. While the others in her caravan are brutally murdered, Carmen is herself saved from death by Aidan. Soon, they are on the run together.
“Lovers on the run” is one of the easiest-to-understand ideas out there. From Bonnie & Clyde to True Romance and countless others, we get the phrase “ride or die” from such stories of people falling in love while fleeing justice. Barrera, an actress who exudes fearlessness, and Mescal, who can express loads of deep sensitivity and depth with the slightest of gestures, are exactly the couple you want to see go on such a thrilling, romantic arc. Millepied knows that, and with a bare minimum of dialogue, also meaning a scarcity of character depth, relies on his actors to carry the day. Along with a sweeping score by the great Nicholas Britell that serves as an emotional guide, Millepied has a wealth of talent at his disposal.
However, Carmen remains a mixed bag. There are long, dull stretches especially after Carmen and Aidan connect with Masilda, a nightclub owner who recognizes her on the spot. They dance together, an electric moment of bonding in which there are tears, but also makes you wish there were others with such deep emotion. Millepied uses dance to fill a lot of the film’s vacant spots, leaning on what he knows best. Sometimes it works to create something wonderfully passionate and vibrant, others it’s like a first-time filmmaker groping to find inspiration. One example of the latter is when an underground fight club suddenly transforms, ridiculously, into a hip-hop dance number with Mescal at its center. Milepied stumbled into some good luck with the casting of Barrera and Mescal, who were not the big stars then that they are now. They are also better actors now, but Barrera and Mescal’s magnetism has always been evident, and they are what will keep you drawn to Carmen when the dancing stops.
Carmen is in select theaters now, and opens in DC on May 5th.
