Andrei Șerban’s 1984 staging of Turandot is the oldest production left in The Royal Opera’s stable. Despite repeated rumours that it was facing the chop, it has successfully dodged the executioner’s axe once again. And with good reason, for Șerban treats Puccini’s final opera as the macabre fairy tale that it is, true to Carlo Gozzi’s original commedia dell'arte play.
Blood red ribbons cascade from a sombre, wooden galleried pavilion which houses the splendid Royal Opera Chorus, acting as a claustrophobic frame. Much of the action is ceremonial, the sadism stylised. The eager crowd bays as the executioner sharpens his knife while the next willing contestant in Turandot’s game of riddles enters. Grotesque masks, representing the severed heads of former contestants, hang from poles, soon joined by the pre-teen Prince of Persia. A bevvy of dancers point knives at Calaf’s throat as he announces his candidacy as groom-to-be.
The opera’s static nature is masked by shots of vibrant colour, the acrobatics of the Harlequin-type ministers Ping, Pong and Pang, and Kate Flatt’s choreography for a troupe of dancers. The decrepit Emperor Altoum descends from the flies on a golden throne hovering above a fluffy pillow-cloud. It’s all beautifully lit (F Mitchell Dana), particularly the shafts of sunlight at the start of Act 3 as dawn pierces the pavilion’s screens. It’s a production that has refused to age.
Based on fable, the characters are far from the human dramas of Puccini’s earlier operas. Do we even care about Turandot and Calaf? In traditional stagings like this they are often nothing more than cardboard cutouts of an ice princess and her bullish suitor who is blind to the love of the opera’s one true flesh-and-blood character, the servant girl Liù. Yet Jack Furness is back as revival director and he brings the principal pair to convincing life.
This week marks five years since the pandemic shut down UK theatres. While most of us were learning how to make sourdough during lockdown, South Korean baritone (as he was then) SeokJong Baek used the time to retrain himself through the transition to tenor, making his exciting debut on this very stage in May 2022. His Calaf lived up to the anticipation. Here is a singer with the clarion power for the role, but who doesn’t just use his tenor as an offensive weapon to bludgeon Turandot into submission.