Millennium Centre, Cardiff
Welsh National Opera's staging of Puccini's last work takes place in a totalitarian state and, in the 17 years since it was originally seen, it has gained even greater impact. Christopher Alden's concept has a chilling aura, reflecting both the enigmatic princess Turandot trapped in her mental iceberg and the torture within a tyrannical regime. The shock of Paul Steinberg's set, with its wall of portraits of executed men ? Turandot's would-be suitors in mythological China ? is just as potent, the more so for the knowledge that there are still places in the world where death is the penalty routinely enforced for giving the wrong answers to trick questions.
Alden himself returned to tighten the screws in this revival, every gesture and ritual eloquent for its simplicity and precision. Lothar Koenigs emphasised the score's brutality, with the extended chorus at their exemplary finest. Despite moments when pit and stage were slightly out of synch, Puccini's dramatic thrust was there, as was some sensuous string-playing.
Anna Shafajinskaia's laser-soprano suits Turandot's glacial nature, and also suggests the inner turmoil unleashed by Calaf's kiss. Tenor Gwyn Hughes Jones gave an assured performance, accomplishing Calaf's soaring lines with focused ease. In her debut as Li�, Rebecca Evans's singing was perfectly judged, the slave-girl's demeanour marked less by servility than an inner serenity glowing in the voice. Making the feared executioner implicit in her death rather than the usual suicide certainly reinforced the element of dark forces. So, too, did the crowd holding aloft the dead men's pictures, adding a degree of ambiguity and hollowness to the hymn to love. It is serious stuff, brilliantly delivered.
Victoria Beckham Missy Peregrym Sarah Gellman Eliza Dushku Bonnie Jill Laflin
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