Review - Carmen Jones (1954)

September 1, 2026
 
Review – Carmen Jones – U.S., 1954
 

Let’s start with the obvious. When you hear that there’s a musical starring Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge, you don’t expect to hear lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein set to classical music by French composer Georges Bizet. Belafonte had begun his career backed by the Charlie Parker Band in the late 1940s, and he would go on to record twenty-seven albums and appear in at least fourteen films. Dandridge had begun her career in a song-and-dance act with her sister before making her screen debut in Bing Crosby and W.C. Fields’s 1935 musical-comedy Mississippi. She went on to make ten Soundies from 1941-1942, a period of time in which she also performed in one of Duke Ellington’s musical reviews. She recorded a jazz album in 1958, which sadly remained unreleased until 1999. My point is this: Both of the stars of Carmen Jones were amazing performers, so imagine my surprise when they open up their mouths and out come the operatic stylings of LeVern Hutcherson and Marilyn Horne.
 
Having said that, I have to admit there is a strange, unfortunate logic to this choice. See, the film is an adaptation of the 1943 stage musical of the same name, and this musical was itself an adaptation of Bizet’s 1875 opera Carmen, which stirred up controversy with its depiction of immorality and murder. It seems understandable then that someone thought it would be a good idea to mix Bizet’s notes with lyrics by the person who penned such theatrical classics as “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair.” Who knew the results would sound more similar to the masterful 1957 Looney Tunes cartoon What’s Opera, Doc than Roger & Hammerstein’s classic Oklahoma?
 
At its core, Carmen Jones is a tale of tragic temptation. Belafonte plays a soldier named Joe who seems to be perfectly content. Not only is he is engaged to a terrific woman who is equally crazy about him, but he is also about to begin training as a pilot. In fact, in the early moments of the film, he and his girlfriend Cindy Lou make plans to elope. Dandridge plays Carmen, and when we first see her, wearing a black and red dress with a red rose on it, she walks around a mess hall checking out her options, and singing a song that includes the telling lyric, “If I love you, that’s the end of you.” After a major dust-up, Joe is tasked with taking Carmen to civilian authorities 50 miles from the base. Eventually, the two of them end up in Carmen’s home, and not even the ominous warning from Carmen’s grandmother that “trouble coming your way” can keep Joe from succumbing to Carmen’s charms.
 
In the scenario I’ve described, you’d expect for Carmen to be the kind of femme fatale that one normally sees in film noir from the 1930s and 40s, but, perhaps as a result of the enforcement of the Hayes Code, the film never seems to commit to that characterization. Instead, it is Carmen’s impulses, not her innate personality, that bring her misery, for she seems to be unable to put others’ needs before her own. Is this the trouble her grandmother warned about? Perhaps, but it could just as easily be Joe’s claustrophobic existence and growing jealousy, both of which made me recall the downfall of Othello.
 
As I describe this, I’m reminded of aspects of the movie that I greatly admired, yet for every stretch of film that builds the drama and increases the viewers unease and concern, there’s a musical number that practically grinds that tension to a halt and replaces it with gawkiness. Picture this. Carmen has just arrived at an out-of-the-way joint called Billy Pastor’s Café. Inside, the place is packed, there’s a live jazz band, and several couples are dancing feverishly. It is ripe with energy, alcohol, and the potential for both romance and seduction. A lively young woman starts to sing a song called “Beat Out Dat Rhythm on a Drum.” The sentiments seem appropriate; however, the rhythm better suits Bizet’s original heroine, who was gypsy, than a character much more likely to be drawn to the sounds and sentiments of 1950s jazz. Increasing this awkwardness are the voices, which, much like many of those used in early Hollywood musicals, were sung in a way that now sounds overly fancy and emotionless. The result is not amazement and allure, but bafflement and detachment.
 
Back in 1954, the film was a big hit, making almost $10 million at the box office and earning two Academy Awards nominations, one of which made Dandridge the first woman of color to be nominated for Best Actress. More recently, in 1992, the United States National Film Registry deemed it “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” I agree with their assessment. However, not everything that is significant is a masterpiece, and not every masterpiece is significant. Being the first does not mean being the best, so while Carmen Jones should be lauded for the audacity of its casting, the unevenness of its musical numbers, as well as the obvious lip synching, weighs the film down, diminishes its strengths, and denies viewers the chance to fully appreciate the depth of its stars’ talents. In other words, Carmen Jones is a rarity – both a game-changer and a missed opportunity. I wish I liked it more. (on DVD and Blu-ray)
 
2 and a half stars