When I saw this in the cinema, I remember wincing at the bad acting about a minute or two into the first scene, then immediately telling myself "no, this has to get better". It didn't. The performances are pretty uniformly teak 'n pine and no, there is NO sexual chemistry in this film whatsoever, just the awkward posturings of a reasonably comely, discreetly talentless actress who seems born to grace the cover of "Interviú" and not much else besides. If the scriptwriter thought that making Mérimée a character was a stunningly original creative ploy he perhaps ought to get out more. And Aranda, if he'd given the matter a bit more thought, would have realised that the story of Carmen is just CRYING OUT for a thoughtful, iconoclastic, parodic deconstruction, not this leave-your-brains-at-the-turnstile affair of ersatz passion and comic-book dialogue. This is contemporary Spanish cinema at its worst.