Can it really be that good? It’s a question many of us ask
when we encounter multiple critics unreservedly praising the new
Warner Classics recording of Giacomo Puccini’s unfinished final
opera, Turandot. Performed by the Orchestra and Chorus of the
Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome and conducted by
Antonio Pappano, the album stars soprano Sondra Radvanovsky,
tenor Jonas Kaufmann, and soprano Ermonela Jaho. Recorded in
hi-resolution, it is one of the few two-channel studio
recordings of a complete opera to appear on a major label in our
era of live-performance surround-sound Blu-ray.
Short
answer: yes. The performance and recording are sensational.
Every line contributed by the chorus, recorded unmasked but
widely spaced while the pandemic was still peaking during the
first quarter of 2022, is sung with feeling and emotion. The
climaxes, captured superbly by recording engineer Clémence
Fabre, are huge and fully honor the power and grandeur of
Puccini’s conception. For air, space, and clarity, if not
soundstage width, this recording rivals the best Turandots on
record.
The biggest revelation among the principals is
Radvanovsky as the titular ice princess who struggles until the
end to avoid melting with love. Drawing on the technique that
she has honed through decades of bel canto vocalism, Radvanovsky
softens her voice in passages that other sopranos sing with
steel, yet she blasts out her high Bs and Cs in tones that could
convince the dead to stay put. Equipped with all the power, ice,
and fire the role demands, as well as the intelligence to vary
her sound, she is marvelous.
If forced to choose between
Radvanovsky and Birgit Nilsson (on either of her two major label
recordings), I’d go with Radvanovsky for her greater variety of
tone and more filled-out character. (Note to Nilsson lovers:
Multiple live versions of her in the role can be found.) And as
sensational as Joan Sutherland was, conducted by Zubin Mehta in
a landmark recording that also includes Luciano Pavarotti and
Montserrat Caballé in their prime, Radvanovsky has far better
diction and a more imaginative approach.
Kaufmann’s
Prince Calaf is a bit problematic. After singing many heavy
roles, darkness has replaced freshness in his voice. The
attractiveness in his rock-solid voice here — he’d just turned
52 before recording — lies mainly in his convincing delivery,
intact musicality, steely top, and ability to soften to relative
sweetness in passages where you least expect it.
In
Calaf’s showstopper aria, “Nessun dorma,” tempos have a
flexibility rarely encountered since the lighter-voiced Jussi
Björling first recorded the number (with the Stockholm Symphony
Orchestra under Nils Grevillius in 1944). Kaufmann’s
interpretation of the aria is one of the high points of this
recording. It’s also available in a bonus single-take version
with orchestra. According to one critic, Kaufmann sounded
overpowered in the live concert performance that followed soon
after the recording session. On record, however, where levels
can be adjusted, he sounds ideally powerful.
As Liù, the
slave girl who sacrifices herself for love, Jaho offers a light
but exceptionally moving voice that reportedly carries well in
the hall. The drama inherent in her vibrato is right in line
with recordings from the original Liù, the extremely emotive
Maria Zamboni, and Jaho’s softly floated high tones are
extremely beautiful. She’s a major asset.
The recording
has another revelation. Pappano opts for the original, rarely
heard Franco Alfano completion of the score, which includes 100
measures of music that were dropped at the insistence of the
opera’s first conductor, Arturo Toscanini. The missing sections
make far greater sense of Turandot’s transformation and bring
the love that is the foundation of the opera to the forefront.
I’ve previously viewed Turandot as a somewhat flawed, overly
long vocal showpiece whose identity as the final flowering of
Puccini’s genius shields it from criticism. Despite the
showstopper arias and the splendor of the opera’s full-voiced
choruses, we roll our eyes as Turandot suddenly melts and the
chorus celebrates her union with Calaf.
Not here. For
once, I was deeply moved by Liù’s sacrifice, Calaf’s bullheaded
determination, and love’s triumph. Pappano performs miracles in
this recording. That he succeeds through sound and music alone,
without visual assistance, makes the recording all the more
extraordinary.
Among the supporting roles, bass Michele
Pertusi’s instrument may not be the most alluring, but it sounds
right for the aged Timur. Baritenor Michael Spyres makes an
unexpected and significant appearance as Turandot’s father,
Emperor Altoum. There are more characterful performances of
Ping, Pang, and Pong than those offered here by Mattia Olivieri,
Gregory Bonfatti, and Siyabonga Maqungo, but their lyricism in
their tender trios is so lovely that I enjoyed the Act 2
interlude that I’ve often found far too long.
If SF
Classical Voice rated recordings with stars, I’d give this one
10-10-10 for music, performance, and sonics. Highly recommended.
