(Photo: Bernd Uhling)

From August 22 to October 3, the Frankfurt Opera presented Puccini’s “Turandot,” directed by Andrea Breth and conducted by Simone Di Felice.

After the orchestra opened with a modern piece—one that highlighted the voices through a variety of screaming and featured an orchestra with gliding chords, the merit of which remains to be proven—it launched into Puccini’s final opera with its jarring high-pitched chords. It was deeply regrettable that the volume was so excessive, forcing tenor Alfred Kim’s Calaf to strain his voice and highlighting accents reminiscent of “Salome” and “Elektra” at the expense of Puccini’s Verdi-inspired lyricism.

It would have been preferable for the orchestra to adopt a more mezzo forte dynamic in order to better convey the work’s modernity. Indeed, Puccini—who, like his Bavarian counterpart, retains a strong Wagnerian influence, and who, after venturing into Lehár’s territory with “La Roundine,” seems with “Turandot” to be venturing into avant-garde territory, as evidenced by the sharp edges of the orchestral score—nevertheless preserves a very Verdi-esque lyricism in his legato.

Vocal Performances

Unfortunately, the vocal cast here was unbalanced, favoring the supporting roles over the leads. While baritone Erik van Heyningen’s Mandarin had a beautiful, firm voice—slightly metallic—worthy of his role as herald, as in his introduction, “Popolo di Pekino! La legge è questa,” suggesting what a fine Timur he might have been, and while bass Thomas Faulkner’s Timur charmed with a deep, fluid voice—particularly in his recitative and in his “Perduta la battaglia, vecchio re”—and while soprano Julia Stuart’s Liù retained a certain freshness, though lacking brilliance, right up to her suicide, as heard in her “Signore, ascolta!,” it was above all tenor Alfred Kim’s Calaf who was disappointing. He sang almost always in the same manner and failing to convey the victorious dreamer of “Nessun dorma.” Also noteworthy was soprano Elza van den Heever’s Turandot, who delivered a very dry recitative, befitting her role as a bloodthirsty princess.

But above all, it was the trio of Ping, Pang, and Pong—performed by baritone Liviu Holender and tenors Sven Hjörleifsson and Andrés Agudelo—that stood out, both in their comic timing and vocally, as at the beginning of the second Act, blending elements of both opera and cabaret while remaining harmonious, unified, and distinct in their voices. And then there was the quality of the chorus, which never disappointed. The crowd—a true character in the work, just as in “Simon Boccanegra,” “Don Carlos,” or Wagner’s operas—was particularly well-rendered here, starting right from the first Act with its “Muoia! Sì, muoia!”

Production Details

But far beyond the purely musical aspect, it is the theatrical element of this performance that captivates the audience. The set design—a collaboration between director Andrea Breth, her assistant Hans Walter Richter, and set designer Johannes Leiacker—is both minimalist in its use of black and white and in its props, such as the cages confining the crowd in the first Act or the large gate at the back of the stage in the final Act, which lent them all the more significance. The same is true of the costumes, expertly chosen by costume designer Ursula Renzenbrink, which remained simple and modern—a white dress and, above all, a white mask for Turandot; everyday clothing for Calaf—placing this cruel tale in an idealized contemporary setting.

While the libretto sets the drama in China, the director’s inspiration seems to extend throughout Asia, with guards practicing taekwondo and the actors’ movements—so highly codified as to be reminiscent of Noh theater or Chinese ceremonies—especially during the performance scenes, such as the riddle scenes. The director thus fully understood that, just as in the orchestral score—and despite the charm of the arias—violence is, so to speak, everywhere, and she has woven it throughout the production. Puccini, after beginning to bring opera into an unpleasant world with “Il tabarro” and into the realm of psychological torment with “Suor Angelica,” continued his shift toward a cruel, brutal, and cold world. His death, which cut short his work, robbed us of this new era that “Turandot” promised. And it is this promise that this very interesting production brings to life.