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Turandot triumphant! Paris
Opéra Bastille
11/06/2023 - & November 8, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19*, 22, 24, 26, 28, 29, 2023
Giacomo Puccini : Turandot
Iréne Theorin/Tamara Wilson*/Anna Pirozzi (Turandot), Ermonela Jaho/Adriana González* (Liù), Brian Jagde/Gregory Kunde* (Calaf), Mika Kares (Timur), Carlo Bosi (L’Imperatore Altoum), Florent Mbia (Ping), Maciej Kwasnikowski (Pang), Nicholas Jones (Pong), Guilhem Worms (Un Mandarino), Fernando Velasquez/ Hyun‑Jong Roh* (Il Principe di Persia), Pranvera Lehnert, Izabella Wnorowska-Pluchart (Due ancelle)
Chœurs de l’Opéra national de Paris, Maîtrise des Hauts de Seine/Chœurs d’enfants de l’Opéra national de Paris, Ching‑Lien Wu (chorus master), Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris, Marco Armiliato*/Michele Spotti (conductor)
Robert Wilson (stage director, sets, lighting), Nicola Panzer (assistant stage director), Stephanie Engein (sets), Jacques Reynaud (costumes), Manu Halligan (make‑up), John Torres (lighting), Tomek Jeziorski (videography), José Enrique Macián (dramaturgy)
(©Agathe Poupeney/Opéra national de Paris)
It’s not difficult to be delighted by Turandot, Puccini’s last work and greatest opera, provided the lead vocalists are up for the challenge. For this production, I’m happy to report they definitely were, especially the astounding Tamara Wilson. Her voice is a true rarity: she’s an authentic dramatic soprano with a huge and powerful instrument. Though Wilson often sings Wagner heroines, her voice is not a typically Wagnerian one, and her Italian diction is clear and idiomatic. Confronting this demanding role, a singer often sacrifices expressiveness for technique, but fortunately that was not the case with Ms. Wilson. This Turandot evolved throughout the opera: initially steely and haughty, subsequently imperious and defiant, and finally transformative and feminine. To successfully convey the various emotional states of the erstwhile icy princess, despite the role’s high tessitura and technical demands is close to miraculous.
Wilson’s Calaf was Gregory Kunde, another vocal phenomenon. He is the only living tenor who enjoys both Verdi and Rossini Otellos in his repertoire. Some three decades ago, I remember hearing him in my home town of Montreal singing a delightfully virtuosic Arturo in Bellini’s I puritani. Rarely has a tenor had such a trajectory from light lyric bel canto tenore d’agilità to dramatic tenor. He has managed this long journey with care and intelligence. His voice showed no strain as Calaf, Puccini’s most challenging tenor role. Moreover, his bel canto training has produced unendingly elegant phrasing and nuanced expression. Needless to say, his “Nessun dorma” brought the house down.
Adriana González was a ravishing Liù, delicate and feminine. Her lyric soprano delighted, especially in her first aria “Signor ascolta” where her pianissimi were exceptionally beautiful. In her second aria, “Tu che sei cinta”, her impassioned interpretation showed a Liù who was as strong as she was vulnerable.
The rest of the cast were more than adequate. But bafflingly, the commedia dell’arte trio of Ping, Pang and Pong, providing a respite from the main story of Calaf and Turandot, were transformed into acrobats by the misguided staging. They looked like a trio of fools rather than Imperial Mandarins, constantly jumping about, like mad marionettes.
Needless to say, as this was a Robert Wilson staging, there is no need to try to understand the stage director’s insight into the work: there is none. One felt sorry for the soloists, having to perform Wilson’s awkward moves while performing this demanding repertoire. It was especially disconcerting to see poor old blind Timur do the Wilson “fox trot”: two steps forward, two steps backward. In addition to being nonsensical, the stage director’s placement of the singers facing the public and never each other hindered dramatic interaction and reduced passion, thereby weakening the opera.
The non-existent sets made this Imperial China seem decidedly impoverished. The lighting fared better; at least it was effective in indicating the mood. The moon turned blood red at the execution of the Persian prince and during the riddles scene.
Despite the absurd staging, this was a vocally remarkable and memorable Turandot, thanks to the excellent singers. The Parisian opera‑going public, though reputed to be erudite and demanding, was more generous than I’d imagined, seeming to enjoy to no end the vapid staging and the director’s predictable antics. Tant mieux!
Ossama el Naggar
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