Knowing we were going to see an opera, I had expectations of something grand. I had never seen an opera before, all I had were preconceived notions of what an opera actually is based on what I’d seen from the media: the brazen women clad in armor, the old men from the Muppets, and the high class audience. Walking into the Metropolitan Opera House, it was clear that there was some truth to my expectations. Surrounding me were people in semi-forma to formal dress in a lavish lobby with spiraling, carpeted staircases, all under light produced by chandeliers that resembled the supernova of a star. Once I got to my seat in the balcony, overlooking the immense stage, I was pretty excited to see what all of us were about to witness.
As soon as the curtain opened revealing the first act, I was already impressed. The stage was beautifully dark; it looked dismal and frightening. I was shocked at the amount of people on stage. There were so many “peasants” in addition to the main stars of the show, and their simultaneous movements made the crowd appear to flow in and out like water. Centered were the singers, and when I heard them first belt out the Italian lyrics, I was in awe. Even as high up as we were seated, their voices penetrated throughout the opera house, strong and controlled. It was incredible. I could not even imagine how much skill, talent, training and courage it must have taken to reach that level. They sang beautifully, beyond what I thought was capable of any voice. They were like gods who had transcended the limits of the human body. This awe lasted throughout the entire performance.
Throughout the second and third acts, I continued to be impressed. One moment I remember very distinctly was the unveiling of the second scene in Act 2: the imperial palace. It was breathtaking. The set was glowing white, with elaborate decor and appeared to have a real pool of glistening water in the center, in front of the emperor’s throne. The entire audience let out a collective gasp of awe. Combined with the colorful and vibrant costumes of the characters, specifically Ping, Pang, and Pong, it was just an astonishing sight. This scene, the riddle scene, was especially unforgettable.
As far as the actual plot, it was an unexpected and subtle tragedy. I say this mostly because of the very small tragedy of the minor character Liu. Her story is incredibly sad; she falls in love with Calaf and dies for him so he can live with another woman. Her role in the play is heartbreaking, even though she seemed so minor. Other than this small subplot, however, the opera was a pretty cliche story. A strong and independent woman submitting to love with one kiss is a pretty immature concept in my eyes. However, the political implications of the story is interesting, especially considering it was made by an Italian about a “mythic” China.
In conclusion, I really enjoyed watching this opera. It was beautiful aesthetically and listening to the singers as inspiring. I’m very glad we were lucky enough to be given the opportunity to watch this incredible performance (for free) and I really hope to see another one in the future.
I agree with Jaime with regards to the incredibly impressive nature of the opera. I had gone into the opera house, not quite sure what it was I was going to expect. Certainly, with all of the funding that the Met receives to put on its shows, this would not be some two-bit performance. To say that I underestimated the grand scale of Turandot is, in itself, a severe underestimation. The sets were all spectacular, with the intricate, dismal yet somehow aesthetically attractive village in the first act; the darkness of the first setting was immediately contrasted by the stunningly bright and glittering court; finally, there was the final act which seemed beautifully illuminated by moonlight – right within the opera house. Not only were the sets a sight to be seen, but the costumes was beautiful as well. From the vibrant Ping, Pang, and Pong clothing to the shining and twinkling outfit of Turandot when she gave her riddles, the costuming was perfection. In general, all of the physical details were stunning.
The story itself, on the other hand, is pretty weak. I mean, the plot is a man becomes enamored with a woman who has nearly every man to have ever pursue her executed. Calaf only sees Turandot once, when she was ordering an execution argued against by the masses no less, before he decides that he is ready to risk his life to have her. Not only that, but he is still willing to pursue her, even when he is told that the entire village he is in is liable to suffer her wrath if he were to stay as well as when his father and Liu were being tortured. In fact, his senseless pursuing of Turandot actually results in the death of Liu, the slave girl who loved him. To top this all off, the opera ends with Turandot returning the affections of Calaf, when no real development had occurred which would have realistically been able to sway her from her resolve against marrying him. Honestly, the story was just so weak that, at times, I was glad I did not know the language; that way, I could ignore the subtitles and pretend I didn’t know what was going on.
Giving credit where credit is due, though, the performers were all excellent, both in their musical abilities and in their stage presence. As poor a story as I find Turandot to be, the actors undoubtedly performed their roles and sang their songs beautifully. All in all, I can understand why this is a classic opera and one that is so loved. I image that it is more due to the stunning visuals and music of the show than it is the story itself.