This version was restored in 2001 by the Cinémathèque Française, starting from a nitrate negative present in their collections. The original nitrate material had no intertitles. In 1985, initial work was done primarily regarding the reconstruction of the intertitles, working from an existing safety copy. The intertitles were then utilized for the restoration which was completed in 2001. Reference was made to a nitrate print, also belonging to Cinémathèque Française collections, in order to reproduce coloration. 

Carmen must be seen at least twice, because it is only once you’ve freed yourself of interest for the drama that you can take pleasure in admiring the full beauty of the work, praiseworthy in its entirety. When you’re able to take your eyes off the artists’ interpretations, when your heart is no longer tugged at by agonizing situations, it will then be possible to analyze the talent and the art contained in Carmen, purely in terms of the mise-en-scène, the lighting and the photography. From the very beginnings of cinematography, we have had the opportunity to applaud many beautiful things, but I don’t think it has ever been possible to see something more effective than the night effects and the light studies for the smugglers’ mountain camp, the road where Lillas Pastia’s tavern is located, the Porte des Capucins where José mounts guard.

Jean de Mirbel, Cinémagazine, 49, 1926

She was a fascinating woman with a warm, seductive beauty, ebony eyes and a voluptuous mouth, but most importantly her voice was caressing and at the same time dense and sensual. Raquel couldn’t have been ignored by the cinema. Her first film was shot in Spain, Los Arlequinos de seda y oro (1919), a work in three parts that would be reworked in the Twenties and presented as a single film entitled La gitana blanca. It was however primarily France, over the course of the Twenties, that would want her as protagonist in a series of films developed specifically for her. It is quite odd that an artist, whose best quality was her voice, became actress in films where her voice could not be heard. But the name Raquel Meller drew such crowds that it pushed French producers to make expensive works (which also proved to be profitable) such as Violettes imperiales (1922). Ten years later she would act in a sound remake of that film under the same director, Henri Roussell. Other such films include La Terre promise (1924), Ronde de nuit (1925), and under the direction of Jacques Feyder, a version of Carmen in 1926. In the latter film, enforcing her whims like a true diva, Meller completely reworked the part of Merimée, turning her into a poor victim of bad guys Don José, Garcia and Lucas the toreador. “On ne m’a pas demandé de faire un film sur Carmen avec Raquel Meller, mais de faire avec Raquel Meller quelque chose sur Carmen”, were Feyder’s words in La Revue du Cinéma (1930), still annoyed over the fiery Spanish singer’s extravagant, vagarious behavior.

Vittorio Martinelli, in Le dive del silenzio, Recco, Le Mani, 2001