Can you cure a classic of its problematic past?

As a new production of the classic opera Carmen returns to the stage this month, Harriet Sim examines whether the 150-year-old production still holds up.

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My earliest recollection of Georges Bizet's opera Carmen is one of pain. No, not for the eponymous heroine - who is stabbed to death by her jealous lover in the final act - but for my feet. I was a 20-year-old student, and the only tickets I could afford to the prestigious Metropolitan Opera House in New York were standing tickets. For three hours, I twitched in discomfort, shifting my weight between each leg before the velvet curtain finally fell.

As the audience rose from their seats, I was surprised that I didn’t feel relieved to be making a swift exit for the nearest subway. Instead, I was disappointed it was over. Like an emotional masochist, I found myself intoxicated by the production’s smouldering passion, pleasure and the beating pulse of danger - despite the biting ache in my ankles.

Adapted from the 1845 novella, Carmen tells the story of a free-spirited woman who works in a cigarette factory in southern Spain and refuses to be controlled by a man. That is until she meets a soldier named Don José. Across three acts, a passionate love affair unfolds between the pair until Carmen decides to leave Don José for a bullfighter. In a tragic twist, Don José becomes so jealous that he murders Carmen.

A bold new adaptation of Carmen recently opened at the Sydney Opera House, where it will remain until September, before travelling to Melbourne's Regent Theatre in November. The contemporary production, from the creative mind of director Anne-Louise Sarks, promises a