Somehow I found this Turandot uniquely haunting. The overwhelming impression is of sadness — at the self-imposed virginal loneliness of Turandot herself, which in turn leads to the suicide of the equally lonely and isolated Liu. Even Ping, Pang and Pong are no longer absurd, comic figures here, but three men who are also trapped in the princess’s icy, self-mutilating world, and long to escape from it. Corelli’s challenging all this seems to isolate him as well, making him a lonely figure trying to change an entire world, and he resembles Wagner’s Lohengrin more than anyone else in Puccini. This isolation seems his whole character, so much so that the happy ending feels slightly wrong, and you are set wondering yet again what psychological blockage contributed to Puccini’s inability to finish the opera.
The ever-serious and subdued Corelli is the main attraction, but Lucille Udovich as Turandot is strong too, though in no way his equal. The production also boasts Plinio Clabassi in the small role of Timur, Calaf’s aged father, and every note he sings is a pleasure. The exceptionally atmospheric stage production, almost opiated, and expressive of a terrible fatalism, was by Mario Lanfranchi.
This, while not perhaps being anyone’s Turandot of choice, could be many people’s second, back-up version. I for one couldn’t stop watching it.
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