Turandot – review

As staged for this revival by Andrew Sinclair, Andrei Serban's production of Puccini's dark oriental fairytale wears its years well for a show that is nearly three decades old. Sally Jacobs' designs continue to provide a heavy claustrophobic frame, in which the opera's hot-house passions smoulder when not actually bursting into flame; while the piece's frequently static nature is regularly disguised by choreography that retains a surprising degree of vitality.

In the pit, Hungarian conductor Henrik Nánási maintains an observant ear for the alternately subtle and garish colours of Puccini's fascinating scoring, even if its dynamic momentum needs keener articulation. Both orchestra and chorus are on impressive form.

But it is for the strength and resilience of the two central vocal performances that this revival proves memorable. As Turandot, Lise Lindstrom seizes attention with the first notes of In Questa Reggia and then never lets go.

If tonal beauty is not her prime asset, it's rare to find an exponent of the role who can supply the level of clarity and pressurised force she effortlessly achieves. While Marco Berti's stentorian Calaf may watch the direst events unfold with the kind of unconcerned equanimity that only Italian tenors can exhibit on such occasions, he nevertheless matches Lindstrom note for note: in their hands the riddle scene becomes a battle of the larynxes, in which victory is evenly and thrillingly shared.

Skilful though her performance is, and despite the far more sympathetic nature of her character, Eri Nakamura's Liù never seriously challenges Turandot's hegemony, while Raymond Aceto's Timur is at least solid and serviceable; but there's a more than usually lively trio of masks in the shape of Dionysios Sourbis, David Butt Philip and Doug Jones.