ENTERTAINMENT

Cincinnati Opera's 'Turandot' a dazzling spectacle

Janelle Gelfand
jgelfand@enquirer.com
Frank Porretta as Calàf and Marcy Stonikas as Turandot in Cincinnati Opera’s "Turandot."

The audience roared its approval at the conclusion of Cincinnati Opera's "Turandot" in Music Hall Saturday night – and for good reason. It was, without a doubt, the most dazzling production of Puccini's "Turandot" this city has ever seen.

But visual extravaganza isn't all one needs for opera: There were also breathtaking performances from members of a strong cast. The large chorus added lively color to the proceedings. And in the orchestra pit, Puccini's lush melodies soared wonderfully under the baton of Ramón Tebar.

The new, $1 million production of "Turandot," which is scheduled for two more performances, is a co-production of Cincinnati Opera with the companies of Minnesota, Pittsburgh, Utah and Seattle. Created by the French Canadian team of director/choreographer Renaud Doucet and André Barbe, who designed the costumes and scenery, it was unforgettable for its splendor, which layered symbol upon symbol.

Yet remarkably, despite the dazzle, the drama, the dancing and the scores of performers onstage in each scene, the eye somehow was drawn to the core of each moment.

At its heart, "Turandot" is a fairy tale. The hand of a Chinese princess may only be won by the royal suitor who can answer three riddles. If he fails, he loses his head – and the scenery included abstract representations on stakes of several of them. An unknown prince – Calàf – takes the challenge. In reality, he is the son of the exiled king of the Tatars, Timur, who is accompanied by the good-hearted slave girl, Liù.

An overall shot of Cincinnati Opera's "Turandot."

The curtain rose on a set drenched in red, the better to represent the executions of the suitors vying for the princess's hand. Using circles as a unifying motif, the design included a raked, circular ramp (characters entered and exited through its middle), while overhead was a massive, lacquer-red arch. A large circular moon loomed behind, which became an elevated throne for the emperor (Chris Merritt). Lavish costumes were befitting of the pageantry of a court. Lighting by Guy Simard offered stunning changes of atmosphere.

The performance benefited from several notable debuts. Soprano Marcy Stonikas was excellent in the role of Turandot. She was a mesmerizing storyteller in the famous "In questa Reggia." Her high notes soared thrillingly over huge orchestral waves, yet her voice was never shrill.

Norah Amsellem made a memorable impression as Liù, bringing palpable emotion to her role. She sang consistently with allure, and her high notes, sung pianissimo, were exquisite. You could have heard a pin drop in the 3,400-seat house.

As the old king, Timur, Andrea Mastroni also impressed for the size and opulent color of his voice.

When the announced tenor Stuart Neill had to cancel last month, Frank Porretta stepped in to sing Calàf. It's too bad that his voice didn't carry over the large orchestra, but he succeeded in "Nessun dorma," bringing sensitive phrasing and secure high notes to the opera's signature aria.

Ping (Jonathan Beyer), Pang (Julius Ahn) and Pong (Joseph Hu) provided some winning moments of comic relief – including their dance performed in long johns with twirling umbrellas.

Norman Garrett sang firmly as the Mandarin.

The chorus, prepared by Henri Venanzi, in his 41st season as chorus master, was superb all evening. The opening scene was chilling as they cried for death for the hapless Prince of Persia (Brandon Scott Russell). Offstage, the Cincinnati Boychoir, prepared by Christopher Eanes, added enchanting atmosphere. And six members of Cincinnati Ballet navigated the raked stage and treacherous, winged costumes with flair.

Because Puccini died before completing this opera, it has always posed challenges. The final scene was finished by Franco Alfano, which is used in this production. The creators offered a few surprises. This "ice princess" had a female (instead of a male) executioner – who had her own cohort of female assistants. Turandot took romantic matters into her own hands when she kissed the prince first, rather than vice-versa.

And in Doucet's staging, Turandot was also seen as being a bit more human. After Liù died – in fact, where Puccini penned his final notes – the orchestra stopped, she was carried off the stage, and Turandot was left, sobbing audibly. It was an interesting but superfluous touch.

The Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, expertly led by Tebar, performed magnificently. The final scene was a spine-tingling mix of trumpet fanfares, the reprise of the "Nessun dorma" theme and the full splendor of the chorus. It elicited cheers from the crowd of 2,822.

"Turandot," which concludes the Cincinnati Opera season, repeats at 7:30 p.m. July 29 and 31 in Music Hall. Tickets: 513-241-2742, www.cincinnatiopera.com.