For the fourth time in 24 years, the emblematic production of Turandot, signed by Núria Espert and the now deceased set designer and costume designer Ezio Frigerio, came on stage yesterday at the Gran Teatre del Liceu. A montage that was chosen to reopen the coliseum saved from the flames in 1999 and that, based on the fervent reaction of the public yesterday – seven minutes of final applause with cheers and bravos –, stands up very well to the passage of time. And it incorporates the resurgence of post-Olympic Barcelona, ??of the Catalonia of “All’alba vincerò”.
“It’s very alive!” said the artistic director, Víctor García de Gomar, still elated by the fleeting reunion that Espert had by surprise last Thursday with the Liceu staff and the artists. The 89-year-old actress and director took advantage of her day off in the middle of a tour to burst into the backstage moments before the pre-general rehearsal, and hugged exultantly with her granddaughter, Bàrbara Lluch, the repository, and with the councilor, Xesca Llabrés , which was already there a quarter of a century ago.
This is how Núria Espert rediscovered a large part of the costumes of that monumental Turandot that her granddaughter has updated by eliminating loincloths or cages, and the frontality of the singing actors… A trunk of memories that Espert shares with the high school audience by reliving the enthusiasm with which Barcelona recovered its opera house.
That Puccini in the wardrobe both serves at the Liceu to celebrate anniversaries – it was restored in 2005 and a decade after the reopening, in 2009 – and, on this occasion, to attract a large audience on pre-Christmas dates and in the dawn of the 25th anniversary of the reopening and the Puccini year. Last night it was 100% full. And since it began in the middle of the afternoon, there was no rush or desertion in the final applause, with soprano Elena Pankratova as a powerful Turandot – and it was not her best day for the high notes of “In questa reggia” –; Michael Fabiano, as the hardworking Prince Calaf, who has the world watching when he sings “Nessun dorma”; Vannina Santoni, in the grateful role of the slave Liù (“Chi posse tanta force nel tuo cuore?”, Turandot asks her, “Principessa, l’amore,” she answers); or Marko Mimica’s memorable Timur, who compensated for the complete lack of voice of the historical Siegfried Jerusalem in the role of the old emperor.
The theater’s orchestra and choir, with the Cor Infantil de l’Orfeó Català, highly applauded, submitted to the baton of the Mexican Alondra de la Parra who, perhaps because it was her first Turandot, opted for a more cinematic musical style , careful but lacking the expressly Puccinian claw. But it didn’t matter. The public enjoyed a bombastic pre-Christmas night.
Turandot is always a winning title. Added to the strength of the music is the exoticism and grandiloquence of the postverism into which the composer had entered at the end of his days, with plots that would move away from contemporary customs (the attics of La bohème or the church of Tosca ) to recreate historical periods such as that of medieval Florence by Gianni Schichi (1918) or that of this imperial China that Turandot (1926) recreates, based on one of the Persian tales from The Thousand and One Days. The one that tells the story of Prince Calaf (an exiled Tatar) who submits to the three riddles with which the cruel Chinese princess subjects her suitors. If they don’t get it right, they die.
–I remembered this production as a large traveling Chinese restaurant, but now I see it as more vintage than demodé.
-If it works well. And after so much modern production, a classic montage in which what happens is what there is is appreciated.
The conversation between two armchair neighbors yesterday reminded us of Roger Alier’s criticism in La Vanguardia (on 8/10/1999). The now deceased historian agreed that “there was something in the emperor’s throne that bordered on the Chinese restaurant,” he continued, “but without falling into it. However, the overall effect has been good and the truth is that it was a Turandot that ‘feia goig’.”
As for the ending, Alier would have been happy yesterday to see that the icy Turandot no longer prefers to commit suicide rather than surrender to the prince who has defeated her in her riddles. Espert has dispensed with his own twist, which contrasted with the glories of love and happiness sung by the chorus in this finale that Puccini left unfinished and signed by Franco Alfano. The surly princess is once again tamed by her prince… Which in retrospect makes one long for Espert’s initial audacity supported by directors like Àlex Ollé.
