Andrei Serban’s 1984 production of Puccini’s final opera was a well-flogged warhorse by the turn of the millennium, hugely assisted by the global 1990s popularity of the aria Nessun Dorma. Revived only two years ago it returns again, part of a Puccini-rich season marking the centenary of the composer’s death (the event which left Turandot unfinished). But thankfully this staging is still far from showing its age.
Instead Jack Furness’s meticulous staging, tightly choreographed by Kate Flatt, feels newly minted. When the blood red drapes at the front of the stage are ripped down in the opening bars, the oppressive ceiling-to-floor set looms over everything, severed head masks looking down. The action takes place amid shadowy watchers, seemingly indifferent to the heartlessness that pervades Turandot almost up to its sudden happily-ever-after end, which used the cut version of Franco Alfano’s 1926 completion.
There is a fresh hand in the pit too. Both orchestra and chorus are unusually important in Puccini’s most ritualistic opera, in which massive, carefully structured climaxes alternate with quicksilver orientalist lightness. Rafael Payare, Venezuelan-born, grips the score, bringing high energy but also a lot of intuitive care and delicacy to a soundscape that can otherwise be unrelenting.
Turandot showcases Puccini’s interest in oriental musical traditions as well as his awareness of what his more modernist contemporaries were writing. But the main draw is still the big numbers – Liù’s tender first-act plea, the epic grandeur of the riddle scene at the work’s centre, plus, of course, Nessun Dorma – and those who come for them will not be disappointed.
Sondra Radvanovsky shows why she is the reigning Turandot of the day. She has the steely vocal penetration that the role’s mightiest climaxes demand, but she also finds the latent humanity behind the mask. By bringing real tenderness to her explanation of why Turandot is so haunted by her tragic ancestor Lo-u-Ling, Radvanovsky elevates the evening.
SeokJong Baek adds Calaf to his growing list of Covent Garden successes. He is no great shakes as an actor, but nor is Calaf a role that requires one. Baek looks good and sings with uninhibited generosity. In Nessun Dorma he gave the audience exactly what it wanted, with the climactic phrase prodigiously extended.
Anna Princeva delivered finely spun accounts of Liù’s two poignant arias. In a spritely trio of courtiers with Aled Hall’s Pang and Michael Gibson’s Pong, the baritone Hansung Yoo made a special impression in Ping’s song of yearning for the countryside. Adam Palka’s Timur, Paul Hopwood’s Emperor Altoum and Ossian Huskinson’s Mandarin all made the most of their moments. The time will come when Serban’s Turandot production is pensioned off. But that time is not now.
• At the Royal Opera House, London, until 19 April
