In 1924, Giacomo Puccini was indisputably the most renowned, successful, wealthy, and frequently performed living composer in the world. However, the maestro had a big vice: he was an avid smoker. This habit took its toll on him when, after visiting his doctor for a persistent cough and various respiratory issues, he received the devastating diagnosis of an inoperable throat tumor. Beyond the terrible news, what frustrated him the most was having to halt the creative process of “Turandot,” a work he had envisioned for almost a decade and was finally nearing completion. Puccini was advised by another doctor to go to Brussels to try an experimental treatment with radium. On Nov. 24, 1924, the musician underwent a painful three-hour surgical operation. Although the operation was considered a total success, Puccini died five days later in the Belgian capital at the age of 65, following an internal hemorrhage.

Consequently, “Turandot” remained unfinished, as Puccini died just before beginning to compose the long-awaited final duet that he had been postponing until the right moment of inspiration. For the last two scenes, he left only a musical sketch without continuity. Thus, Arturo Toscanini decided that the opera should be completed by the verismo composer Franco Alfano under his supervision.

The famous conductor, besides being a close friend of Puccini, perfectly understood the Tuscan composer’s style and intentions. This friendship and admiration for the maestro from Lucca led to the immortal anecdote of the night of April 25, 1926, at the Teatro alla Scala. The world premiere of “Turandot” took place a year and a half after Puccini’s death. Toscanini conducted the performance as usual, but after the funeral procession following Liù’s death, he interrupted the performance with the last note written by Puccini. Faithful to the maestro’s final notes, he pronounced the famous phrase: “Here the opera ends tonight, because at this point the Maestro died.” Naturally, Alfano’s version was performed from the second show onwards and remains in use to this day. The “Toscanini version” I mean where the curtain falls after the line “Liù, dolcezza, dormi! Oblia! Liù! Poesia!” is rarely performed.

 A Memorial Production

To commemorate the centenary of Puccini’s death in 2024, the Teatro alla Scala, along with the creative mind of Davide Livermore, opted for a beautiful reminiscence of Toscanini’s gesture a century ago. After the mysterious and funereal high E-flat of the piccolo flute, the scene paused, and Puccini’s iconic photograph was projected onto the moon with the phrase: “qui Giacomo Puccini morì” (here Giacomo Puccini died) while the entire house audience and performers on stage lit a small electronic candle distributed before the start of the third act. The darkness of the emblematic theater was gently illuminated by the faint light of the scattered candles in the audience and on the stage, amidst a sea of applause for the eminent Italian composer.

Livermore’s version was a blend of contemporary rustic China and a minimalist dreamscape that worked very well on stage. He proposed the real China of the 1920s without the stereotypes of grandiose productions like Zeffirelli’s, opting for a ‘realistic stage’. The first act seemed to be set in a rural suburb of a Far Eastern city, not in the sumptuous palace of Turandot that we all envision. The final acts, however, took place in a black box with very few scenic elements proposed by Eleonora Peronetti, Paolo Gep Cucco, and Livermore himself. A horse and flying birds added that touch of fable indicated by Puccini in the libretto. The elegant and imperial costumes by Mariana Fracasso, the lighting design by Antonio Castro, and the video design by D-Wok reinforced the Turin stage director’s idea.

Credit: Brescia e Amisano

A Solid Cast

The titular role, as expected, was entrusted to Anna Netrebko, who has the character perfectly studied and with solid experience interpreting it. The renowned Russian soprano confirmed her status as an exceptional artist with her innate stage charisma, embodying first a haughty and capricious princess who then transforms physically and vocally into a woman in love. Once again, Netrebko demonstrated that she is a great actress capable of conveying emotions histrionically. Her noticeable improvement in vocal technique is also unquestionable, with her high notes now sounding sonorous and captivating, far from the shrill and throaty emission that was often criticized a few years ago.

In the coveted role of Calaf, Roberto Alagna was initially scheduled but unfortunately canceled his participation “for health reasons.” To replace the French tenor, Yusif Eyvazov was asked to perform an additional show, as he was already sharing the marquee with Alagna for the first four performances. For the last two nights, Brian Jagde, who debuted at La Scala last April in “Cavalleria Rusticana,” was brought in. The Long Island tenor, despite the short notice, performed admirably. Jagde possesses a powerful and elegant voice, though his acting was overshadowed by Netrebko. He has a lovely vocal color and robust, lyrical high notes, but an urgent improvement is needed in his Italian pronunciation, as occasional anglophone inflections betrayed him. His “Nessun dorma” went unnoticed, not even eliciting a hint of applause after the anticipated high B of “vincerò!”

Rosa Feola’s performance as Liù was excellent and exquisite. Her impressive flexibility, combined with the beauty of her vocal color, confirms her as one of the best sopranos of today. The crescendo filato on the high note of “Signore, ascolta” was spectacular, as were the immaculate dynamics she proposed with an admirable line of singing. For their part, the three masks, interestingly entrusted to Asian singers, were competent and dynamic. Chuan Wang (Pang) and Jinxu Xiahou (Pong) provided strong support for Sung-Hwan Damien Park (Ping), who possesses a graceful central register. A pleasant surprise was seeing the legendary Argentine tenor Raúl Giménez as Altoum, while the Ukrainian bass Vitalij Kowaljow offered a refined Timur with rich harmonics in the central and low registers.

Under the direction of Michele Gamba, the Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala delivered a vigorous and meticulously studied interpretation of the score, rich in dynamics and ingenious tempi. Gamba balanced both the orchestra’s powerful sound and the singers and chorus’s performance, gallantly directed by Alberto Malazzi.

The title was highly anticipated in the city, as incredibly, the tickets sold out within less than three minutes of going on sale, more than half a year in advance, for all seven performances.