BY ANGUS MCPHERSON
Opera Australia
Turandot by Puccini
Sydney Opera House, 24 June 2015
A full house greeted the opening night performance of Puccini’s mythic final opera ‘Turandot’ in Opera Australia’s revival of director/choreographer Graeme Murphy’s 1990 production. ‘Turandot’ tells the story of a cruel and inaccessible Chinese princess (sung by Lise Lindstrom) who kills the men who love her, and an exceptionally – even sociopathically – confident suitor, Calaf (Yonghoon Lee) who survives her deadly riddles and finally seduces her.
In this colourful realisation, Peking is portrayed as an ancient, surreal city in an admirable attempt to sidestep the outdated Orientalism of Puccini’s opera (although not much can be done about the unfortunately named ministers Ping, Pong and Pang). Murphy, along with set and costume designer Kristian Fredrikson, create a flowing, sinuous, and almost aquatic visual aesthetic that permeates the whole production. Undulating movements and waves ripple through the crowd scenes, entrancing when subtle and rocking nauseatingly when taken to extremes. Flowing ribbons and fabric evoke blood and mist, adorning, highlighting and mingling with the action on stage. While the cast, the Opera Australia Chorus and Children’s Chorus often fill the stage completely, the space is used well and it never feels overcrowded. John Drummond Montgomery’s ethereal lighting is vivid and effective, particularly in the first act, and is integrated cleverly with the staging – the reflection off the headsman’s axe swings like a spotlight slicing through the audience and spirits of illuminated fabric dance and evaporate above the stage.
Lindstrom and Lee lead this well-cast production. Lindstrom is no stranger to ‘Turandot’, having clocked up her 100th performance in the role several years ago, and her popularity as the cold, bloodthirsty princess is certainly justified. Her singing is effortless and indomitable, formidably icy until she ‘melts’ in the final act. Lee is an implacable, single-minded Calaf (though perhaps playing it a little straight), his smooth, polished tenor cutting across the sound of the orchestra. There were times when he seemed to be holding back (it is a rather relentless vocal role) but his power was undoubtedly there at the climaxes – ‘Nessun dorma’, of course, is a highlight and Lee certainly matches Lindstrom’s intensity in the final duets.
Hyeseoung Kwon shines as the submissive and self-sacrificing Liù, the one character for whom the audience can have any real sympathy. Her voice is warm, flexible and sensitive, and her torture and suicide is the emotional climax of the opera. She is well paired with Jud Arthur as the elderly, blind Timur.
Luke Gabbedy, John Longmuir and Graeme Macfarlane (Ping, Pong and Pang, respectively) are delightful as Turandot’s Commedia dell’arte inspired ministers. The trios are brilliant and the humorous choreography is, thankfully, more clever than slapstick. Benjamin Rasheed plays the grave and resigned emperor Altoum, a tiny, impotent god-head at the pinnacle of a giant yellow meringue robe that serves as his costume and throne, exalted and comical towering above his subjects.
Christian Badea, conducting the Opera Australia Orchestra, maintains an exhilarating and unwavering intensity, and the Opera Australia choruses, adult and child, are remarkable, imparting a rich variety of timbres and dynamics throughout the opera.
The Gilbert and Sullivan-style ending of ‘Turandot’ always comes as a bit of a shock, with love winning out and Turandot’s horrific crimes (not to mention the still warm corpse of Liù) apparently forgotten. Even so, there is much to appreciate about this opera and Opera Australia has done an excellent job of bringing it to life again.
Image credit Branco Gaica.
