As a grand finale, La Monnaie brought Giacomo Puccini's legendary opera to the stage last Friday—for the first time since the seventies Turandot (1926). The ice princess, who crushes romance with a deadly hand, came to life in a production by Christophe Coppens. Conducted by Ouri Bronchti.
The chosen approach was a representation of the modern matriarchy, a contemporary interpretation of a folk tragedy. And was it a successful choice? This reviewer certainly thinks so.
Nessun Dorma
"No one shall sleep," sings Calaf (tenor Stefano La Colla). Turandot (soprano Ewa Vesin) has until dawn to guess his name and thus retain her freedom. In the first half of the twentieth century, at the very tail end of romanticism, a conquered princess was still a dream.
La Monnaie's production opts for an interpretation with more character. The emperor becomes an empress—a shadow empress à la the legendary dowager Cixi (1835-1908). In costume design, she evokes the image of a Hollywood Dragon Lady . The production presented a clash between glittering wealth and poor servants. It's a staging that escaped straight out of Dynasty, with a hint of Crazy Rich Asians thrown in. It's sometimes forgotten that China's past produced powerful—yet at times cold and iron-willed—women like Cixi and Emperor Wu Zetian (624-705). That Princess Turandot appears from beginning to end as merciless is reinforced here with the idea of freedom and independence. La Monnaie's legendary ice princess only breaks when confronted with the sacrificial death of a woman: the maid Liù (soprano Venera Gimadieva). This contrasts sharply with her indifference to yet another longing man who fails at her riddle game. In Puccini's story, the people become pawns in the conquest battle between Calaf and Turandot. La Monnaie brings a modern fairy tale through the addition of conflict between rich and poor and between a woman's independence from man. You'd almost feel sorry for Turandot, because history shows that a woman has often had to fight twice as hard for power and freedom. La Monnaie's Turandot is not just a terrifying plot device in the story, but a tragic, merciless woman of flesh and blood. People of Peking! I'll eagerly say that this production is worth seeing. The way La Monnaie plays with chorus placements in their staging elevates this performance far above the standard. Because make no mistake, although Nessun Dorma, Calaf's central aria—beloved worldwide and made legendary by supertenor Luciano Pavarotti (1935-2007)—was delivered with feeling by La Colla during this production, it remains
It's sometimes forgotten that China's past produced powerful – yet at times cold and iron-fisted – women like Cixi and Empress Wu Zetian (624-705). The princess Turandot is depicted from beginning to end as merciless, which is reinforced here with the idea of freedom and independence. The Munt's legendary ice princess only softens at the self-sacrifice of a woman: the maidservant Liù (soprano Venera Gimadieva). This contrasts with her indifference to yet another hopeful man who fails in her riddle game.
In Puccini's tale, the people become pawns in the power struggle between Calaf and Turandot. The Munt brings a modern fairy tale to life by adding conflict between rich and poor and the woman's independence versus the man. You'd almost feel sorry for Turandot, as history shows that women have had to fight twice as hard for power and freedom. The Munt's Turandot is not merely a frightening plot device, but a tragic, merciless woman of flesh and blood.
People of Peking!
I must say upfront that this production is worth seeing. The way the chorus placements are used in The Munt's staging elevates this performance far above the standard. Because make no mistake, although Calaf's central aria – beloved worldwide and made legendary by star tenor Luciano Pavarotti (1935-2007) – was performed with feeling by La Colla during this production, it remains Nessun DormaBaus Turandot an opera production of the people. The stars here are the choir singers.
This has its pros and cons. Choral pieces can quickly become monotonous. The tension can easily be lost if everyone stands on stage in the same way, but La Monnaie brings us the visible and invisible. It brings sounds that emerge right before our eyes and that seem to rise like ghosts from a bottle behind the scenes. We hear innocent children, we hear a frightened people who realize – floating on a beautiful romantic melody – that they must guess Calaf's name to survive. La Monnaie delivers beyond expectations the essence of Puccini's composition. Turandot was already legendary, but the bar is now set even higher.
Vesin as Turandot was a tour-de-force: a powerful and dominant voice, overwhelming and vocally crystal clear. In contrast stood Gimadieva as Liù. She could easily have been a simple sacrifice, but here she was a sensitive counterpoint. Her self-sacrifice also brought necessary conflict to the ruthless Turandot. This was the crux, not a (unnecessary) final kiss between Calaf and the princess. Gimadieva was brilliant, her voice had something tragic about it. The perfect control of her dynamic transitions surely played a role here. These two women carried, together with the choirs, this opera production.
Turandot…what a finale opera, and promising for the year ahead. The opera houses within Belgium seem to be at their finest. Can they surpass this? Who knows. This reviewer would certainly like to be surprised by similar quality spectacles in the future. Bravo, and see you next season!
