Photo by Cory Weaver
The big question on everyone’s mind, as San Francisco Opera opened its 89th season with Puccini’s grandest of grand operas, Turandot, was how the lead singers would fare. We already knew about the gifts of Music Director Nicola Luisotti, who has established himself as master of the long line, grand romantic sweep, and heart-tugging rubato which distinguish great Puccini and Verdi conductors from the rest. Likewise, the top-flight artistry of the two large ensembles that play major roles in Turandot — the San Francisco Opera Orchestra, and the opera chorus under the longtime direction of Ian Robertson — was virtually assured. Orchestra and chorus sounded glorious.
David Hockney’s striking, primary color set and Ian Falconer’s equally fanciful costumes were also givens. First unveiled here in 1993, and remounted in 1998 and 2002, the production looked more striking than ever thanks to Christopher Maravich’s new lighting design. As bright as Hockney and original lighting designer Thomas J. Munn meant the set to be, Maravich reserved the ultimate blaze for the final act, where an almost phantasmagoric, dark blue setting was transformed into brilliance as the union of Turandot and her suitor Calaf was assured. Except for one miscalculation in a crowd scene, which temporarily left Liù (soprano Leah Crocetto) in the dark, the lighting made the production sparkle like new.
The Voice is the Thing
Eyes and ears were thus focused on the four principals: soprano Iréne Theorin, billed as “the world’s reigning Turandot;” third year Adler Fellow Crocetto, whose local debut as Liù follows her win in the 2010 Metropolitan Opera’s National Council Auditions; tenor Marco Berti (Calaf), who most recently sang the title role of Il trovatore here in 2009; and bass Raymond Aceto (Timur), whose menacing Hunding this summer further established him as a local favorite.
In almost all respects, Theorin fulfilled her promise. As huge and threatening as her voice sounded, her ability to soften and even caress notes made for maximum contrast between icy hardness and softened heart. The opening section of her show-stopping aria, “In questa reggia,” which is often declaimed full voice, was here presented slowly and softly. Lines were voiced with unexpected vulnerability, as if, deep in her heart, Turandot longed for a way out of her plight. A particular vocal triumph came in the final act, where the sweetness that she brought to her forte declamation of Calaf’s name as “Love” established her sovereign control of vocal color. Only a consistent pattern of cutting her blazing high notes short set her apart from her greatest predecessors.
Theorin consistently astounded with her mastery of facial nuance. Rather than appearing as a one-dimensional ice princess who ultimately and unfathomably melted at the sight of her anything but romantic looking suitor (Marco Berti), she used her extremely mobile mouth and eyes to suggest the heart beneath the steel. As the opera progressed, even while she sang out imperiously, cracks continually appeared in her icy façade. This is a binoculars-must performance, as rich visually as vocally.
Crocetto imbued Liù with supreme sweetness. Her first floated high note almost had me in tears. Sounding a mite underpowered in the first act, she opened the voice in Act III to deliver one of the finest “Tu che di gel sei cinta”s in memory.
Equally noteworthy was Crocetto’s mastery of rubato, which under Luisotti’s brilliant eye coached maximum emotion from every note. Only a tendency to interrupt legato flow when moving between floated high notes (as in the final “ah” of an otherwise gorgeous “Signore, ascolta!”) or high-voiced syllables, and a physical immobility that was only partially transcended by facial expression, marred an otherwise outstanding portrayal.
The Boy Department
Berti may have a fine instrument, distinguished by ping and blazing money notes, but he’s at a loss when not declaiming. When it came to “Nessun dorma,” the beloved tenor aria that for decades served as Luciano Pavarotti’s calling card, he was as poetic as a crow cawing by the side of the road.
His acting, too, rarely if ever diverged from deadening park and bark. None of this can be blamed on Luisotti, who clearly took advantage of his lead sopranos’ ability to bend phrasing and dynamics for emotional effect, or on director Garnett Bruce and choreographer Lawrence Pech, who continually animated Ping, Pang, Pong, chorus, and dancers. The stage was alive, except when Berti dominated.
Aceto’s vocal beauty remains wondrous, and his physical portrayals are always vibrant. Increasingly infuriating, however, is his tendency to accent every other syllable, as if even the most mundane words had earth-shaking import. The result, in the case of the dethroned Tartar King Timur, was an old man who sang with the incongruous energy of youth.
In his San Francisco Opera debut, Korean-American baritone Hyung Yun (Ping) stood out for the fineness of his voice and beauty of his phrasing. Yun joined with tenor Greg Fedderly (Pang) and supremely agile Adler Fellow tenor Daniel Montenegro (Pong) to create a most delightful trio. As fetching as their physicality was the trio’s ability to soften and touch the heart when giving voice to memories of homeland.
At a time when San Francisco Opera’s funding base has diminished, it is essential for General Director David Gockley to maintain and strengthen the company’s reputation as a world-class organization. With the knockout success of last summer’s Ring cycle and this equally powerful Turandot, he has succeeded. If you long for grand opera at its finest, do not miss this production. Six performances remain before Turandot returns in November with the wonderful Crocetto as Liù and three new principals to tempt us anew.