Turandot & Humanity

I went to see an Eastern European touring production of Turandot last night at a local theater, an opera I'd not seen before. I waited until the last minute to decide whether to go, knowing that it wouldn't be difficult to get a seat on a Thursday night.

At this theater, a ticket for an orchestra seat may mean you'll be sitting *with* the orchestra. My seat was off to one side, only a few rows back from the front and less than 6 feet from the double basses. They had been exiled (ex-aisled?) from the rest of the orchestra to sit along a side wall. I could almost read their music, could have helped to turn pages if they'd asked. My sight-lines allowed me a view back stage where I could see the actors and chorus during the opera as they prepared to come on. This is a stage where I also have performed.

Some of the voices in the lead roles were very good. The lyric soprano who played Liu was stirringly artful, technically brilliant. Visually and dramatically, however, the rest of the performance was lacking. They offered scuffed sets, tired costumes, uneasy movement by the opera chorus, and side conversations on stage during solos. There were some in the chorus who seemed not to know their words. I pictured the passionless romantic tenor lead, Calaf, back-stage growling, "I make opera for you", then flashing the same forced, perfunctorily toothy grin he bestowed upon the audience at the end of a recitative.

During the first intermission, as the orchestra began to return, one double bassists sat down to relax at the end of my row, just a few seats away, exuding an odor stale cigarettes. He and the other bassist chatted for a while in clipped, guttural syllables, glancing around disdainfully.

Thankfully, the aria, "Nessun dorma" (listen / buy) in Act III, Scene 1, has one of the most beautiful melodies ever written by Puccini. What a contrast between that glorious soaring theme of transcendent love and the road-weary humanity on display last night! Experiencing that one unexpected moment of juxtaposition was, for me, worth the cost of my orchestra seat.

:-), Kay

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