The field may be fiercely contested, and
I should hesitate to award first place to any one contender, but is there a
more brazenly offensive opera to modern sensibilities than Turandot?
Its racism and misogyny are far from unique, though they are experienced here
in a form so extreme that even the dullest of listeners could hardly fail to
notice them. The particular offensiveness goes far beyond that, however.
Michael Tanner, writing
in The Spectator upon this production’s previous outing of the
season, went so far as to describe it as ‘an irredeemable work, a terrible
end to a career that had included three indisputable masterpieces and three
less evident ones, counting Il Trittico as one.’ The real problem is
the plot itself. Again to quote Tanner, only summarizing what happens yet in
reality twisting the knife by having the plot speak for itself, ‘once Li˘
has killed herself because she can’t stand any more pain, Calaf forgets about
her, and about his frail old father Timur who just disappears, and turns all
his attention on Turandot.’ It is repellent, and it is well-nigh impossible
to imagine someone possessed of a smidgeon of humanity feeling otherwise.
And yet, its repellent quality fascinates, on account of Puccini’s
manipulative genius. There is nothing beneath the surface, but what a surface!
What Tanner rightly condemns as a ‘void’ draws one in to its nothingness
and achieves if not nihilistic intent then certainly representation and
experience of the work’s nihilistic essence. It is not entirely different
from much Strauss in that respect, though the sadism is Puccini’s own: how he
revels once again in the torture as much as the vile sacrifice itself! A
‘successful’ performance is therefore a problematical concept indeed.
Should the work simply be portrayed for what it is? Or should it be confronted,
questioned, in some sense ‘dealt with’?
Alfred Kim as Calaf, Matthew Rose as Timur and Ailyn Perez as Li˘
The Royal Opera opted for the former, at least in terms of the umpteenth
revival of Andrei Serban’s production, first seen in 1984. Andrew
Sinclair’s revival direction seemed tighter than it had in September
of last year, though I think that may have been in large part a matter of
greater musical — in particular, orchestral — dynamism, sharpening the
cruel edges of the work. Yes, there is something of an effort — which again,
came across more strongly than last time around — to present the performance
with the idea of ‘staging’ to the forefront. It comes perilously close to
being lost, however, by the exuberant success of the execution, not least Kate
Flatt’s choreography. ‘About staging’ turns into ‘mere staging’.
Likewise the Orientalism of Sally Jacobs’s designs. Surely by 2014, we need
to inject a measure of irony, or indeed violence. I had a nasty feeling that
many of those in the audience wildly applauding had not so much as registered
the attendant problems: an urgent need for any responsible new production.
The orchestra was on magnificent form throughout. Nicola Luisotti not only
revelled in the score’s phantasmagorical harmonies and sonorities but also
imparted a startling symphonic continuity not only to each act but to the work
as a whole. Puccini’s surface and that void beneath could hardly have been
more brilliantly — in more than one sense — evoked. This Puccini, quite
rightly, sounded more than ever a brother of Strauss, not least in his twin
descent from Wagner’s invention and disavowal of Wagner’s moral intent.
Such made the echoes and/or presentiments of Schoenberg — not only the
avant-gardism of Pierrot lunaire, but also the wondrous late
Romanticism of Gurrelieder — sound all the more painful, given the
strenuous moralism of the Austrian composer, as fervent an admirer of Puccini
as Puccini was of him. Luisotti had done for the most part a
decent job with Don Giovanni, but he was clearly more in his
element here. If only the staging had questioned the work as the fine musical
performance necessarily did.
David Butt Philip as Pang, Grant Doyle as Ping and Luis Gomes as Pong
IrÈne Theorin did what she had to do in the truly repugnant title role.
Steel and sheer vocal strength were allied to a subtler-than-usual command of
dynamic contrast. Alfred Kim might have offered more in terms of subtlety,
especially during that aria, which sounded too much like an aria,
however much responsibility Puccini must also bear for that. But otherwise, his
was a formidable, untiring performance. Li˘ once again fared very well in
indeed in terms of casting, Ailyn PÈrez offering a moving portrayal — again,
may Puccini’s manipulations be cursed! — in which musical and dramatic
imperatives were as one. There are greater opportunities for vocal shading, and
of course for sympathy, than with the Princess; Perez undoubtedly took them
all. Matthew Rose made for a noble Timur, whilst the unbearably irritating trio
of Ping, Pong, and Pang received uncommonly excellent performances, again as
laudable in stage as in musical terms, from Grant Doyle, David Butt Philip, and
Luis Gomes. Renato Balsadonna’s chorus and extra chorus showed themselves the
orchestra’s equals in excellence.
Wagner feared that excellent performances of Tristan would be his
ruin; audiences would not be able to take them. In a very different sense, one
might say the same of this ‘irredeemable’ work; at least unless a director
has the courage more directly to confront its horrors.
Cast and production information:
Mandarin: Ashley Riches; Li˘: Ailyn PÈrez; Timur: Matthew Rose;
Calaf: Alfred Kim; Ping: Grant Doyle; Pang: David Butt Philip; Pong: Luis
Gomes; Turandot: IrÈne Theorin; Emperor Altoum: Alasdair Elliott; Soprano soli
— Marianne Cotterill, Anne Osborne. Director: Andrei Serban; Andrew Sinclair
(revival director); Sally Jacobs (designs); F. Mitchell Dana (lighting); Kate
Flatt (choreography); Tatiana Novaes Coelho (choreologist). Royal Opera Chorus
and Extra Chorus (chorus master: Renato Balsadonna)/Orchestra of the Royal
Opera House/Nicola Luisotti (conductor). Royal Opera House, Covent Garden,
London, Thursday 20 February 2014.
image_description=Irene Theorin as Turnadot [Photo © ROH / Tristram Kenton]
product_title=Turandot, Royal Opera
product_by=A review by Mark Berry
product_id=Above: Irene Theorin as Turnadot
Photos © ROH / Tristram Kenton