Love can conquer all, and if there are any lingering doubts about it the Metropolitan Opera's fabulous production of Puccini's Turandot, which returned to the stage last night with a solid cast, should erase them.
With the strong soprano Christine Goerke taking the title role, a reliable Marcelo Alvarez as her fearless suitor Calaf, and a fresh Hibla Gerzmava as Liu, this is a stirring Turandot that the Met will make available to audiences around the world on Jan. 30 when it will be shown in over 2,000 theaters in some 70 countries as part of its Live in HD series.
Puccini had nearly finished Turandot when he traveled from Italy to Brussels in the fall of 1924 for treatment for throat cancer, a condition the severity of which he was unaware. The operation apparently was successful, but he suffered a heart attack and died a few weeks later, the final work on the opera not yet completed.
Arturo Toscanini, who was to conduct the Turandot premiere at La Scala, enlisted Franco Alfano to complete the score based on Puccini's notes. And although on opening night a year and a half later Toscanini put down his baton at the point at which Puccini wrote his last note, the full opera with Alfano's finale has become a standard of the operatic repertoire.
The story is based on an 18th-century play by the Venetian satirist Carlo Gozzi about an ancient Chinese emperor whose daughter, Turandot, refuses to marry any man who cannot answer three riddles she proposes. The stakes are high. If a suitor tries and fails, he is beheaded.
Enter Calaf, a Tartan prince, who suddenly sees his long-lost and deposed father, Timur, in a crowd of Chinese commoners waiting to watch the execution of the latest unlucky candidate for Turandot's hand. Timur, is attended by a faithful slave girl named Liu, and when Calaf decides to try his luck with the riddles, both plead without success to dissuade him.
Calaf, of course, aces the riddles, but the danger doesn't end there. Turandot vows she will never yield to him, and Calaf, who had entered the contest anonymously, is so confident that his love can overcome her resistance he promises that if she can discover his name by dawn the next morning, he will forfeit his claim to her and submit to the executioner.
If the plot challenges the limits of credulity, the music contains lyrical and dramatic passages that are full of tenderness, hope, and passion: such as Liu's opening act aria "Signore, ascolte," Calaf's third-act "Nessun dorma," and Turandot's great second-act "In questa Reggia," one of opera's grand show-stopping moments.
Goerke, a New York native who has risen from ensemble singing to starring roles, is a splendid dramatic soprano whose range runs from Wagner to Mozart. She has a powerful voice that can soar above the Met Orchestra and Chorus, and a commanding stage presence as well. Goerke's Turandot is a princess who is clearly used to being obeyed and her rendering of "In questa Reggia" is assured and gripping.
Alvarez has become a go-to tenor for the Met and his Calaf adds to a list of more than a dozen leading roles he has sung for the company. He has a pleasing voice that is comfortable in both upper and lower registers. It is a challenge for any tenor to sing "Nessun dorma," an aria Pavarotti made almost a signature song, on the Met stage but Alvarez delivers it admirably.
As Liu, the Georgian soprano Hibla Gerzmava, in only her third role for the Met (though she will sing Desdemona in the new Otello later in the season), gives a moving and earnest "Signore, ascolta," and her rich and warm voice makes her third-act "Tanto amore segreto" a highlight of the performance.
James Morris sings a convincing Timur, and Dwayne Croft, Tony Stevenson, and Eduardo Valdes, as Ping, Pang, and Pong, provide a wistful second-act act trio, dreaming of their homes far from Peking. The Italian conductor Paolo Carignani brings all the emotion of Puccini's score from the superb Met Orchestra, and from the opening scene to the closing one, the Met Chorus is magnificent.
Franco Zeffirelli's 1987 production is one of the gems in the Met repertory. From the teeming masses in the opening scene (with the heads of princes who failed the riddle test impaled on staffs around the stage), to the opulence of the imperial palace, it is a time travel fantasy that can take one's breath away. It is remarkable when a 28-year-old production can still elicit gasps and applause from an audience, and Zeffirelli's majestic set for the emperor's celestial palace does just that.