LHO’s “Turandot,” staged in honor of Puccini’s 150th birthday, is a forceful production ripe with emotional power and drama. The boldness of this presentation, produced by Sarah Eggleston ’07 and stage-directed by Marco Bonito, lies in its intimate staging and historical significance. This marks the Boston premiere of the original Franco Alfano ending, written for the 1925 performance under legendary conductor Arturo Toscanini but typically presented in a shortened form. The show benefits from this addition; the Alfano finale intensifies the ultimate duet and scene, concluding the opera on a compelling and stirring note.

Running through March 15, the three-act opera is performed with a rotating cast of community volunteers in its original Italian with projected English supertitles that make the drama accessible to even the most inexperienced of viewers.

“Turandot”—Puccini’s final opera, which was incomplete at the time of his death—tells the ancient Persian legend of Calaf (Brian Landry), a Tartar prince who seeks to marry the unattainable ice princess Turandot (Natalie Miller). In order to do so, three riddles are posed to the prince, who loses his life if he answers incorrectly.

Similar tales have been told exhaustively in various incarnations, but this story gains emotional resonance through the character of Liù (Lauren Woo), the devoted slave girl willing to sacrifice even her life in the name of love.

While the show gets off to a slow start with the death of an unsuccessful suitor, it rapidly picks up by the time Calaf has made his decision to attempt Turandot’s challenge. Even while the drama is less absorbing, the onstage visuals provide enough interest to keep the opera from getting dull.

From the simple, grand set—which, along with props and other behind-the-scene details, was primarily crafted by undergraduates—to the lavish costumes, the show displays an unexpected level of professionalism and exotic radiance. Particularly striking is the use of color and lighting, which changes to reflect the complicated sentiments of the characters and town members. As the bloodthirsty townspeople observe the moon and channel their lapsed compassion into a plea to save the life of an ill-fated suitor, a cool and soft bluish white light bathes the scene. When the glacial Turandot—adorned in a shimmering, icy turquoise gown—gives in to the burning passion of her melting heart, the stage becomes a red- and orange-hued embodiment of that fire. [SEE CORRECTION]

Miller, too, is a blazing force that commands the stage from her brief first appearance in an ethereal white gown to her final proclamation of love’s power. Her commanding voice fills the hall with its strength and clarity, mirroring her deep resolve to avoid man’s possession. She portrays Turandot as a removed, iron-willed princess, yet when her transformation comes, Miller effectively presents the shades of feeling and hidden anxiety beneath the surface.

Complementing Miller’s compelling performance, Landry nearly steals the show with his riveting acting and intense singing. The dramatic passion the tenor brings to his rich vocal performance provides a bridge between the disconnection of rational sense and Calaf’s blind devotion to Turandot. A highlight is the celebrated aria “Nessun Dorma”—translated to English as “None Shall Sleep”—performed at the start of the final act with mesmerizing conviction and emotion.

Providing comic relief is the trio of Ping (Adrian Packel), Pang (Gregorio Rangel), and Pong (Giovanni Formisano). The threesome delight as they dance with Chinese fans and umbrellas, but they also provide a dose of deep sentiment as they reflect on life outside of Turandot’s hostile reign.

At times, the orchestra—directed by Channing Yu ’93—overpowers these singers, but the sound is nonetheless polished and professional. The music fills the dining hall and carries the audience into a Chinese vision of grandeur.

This grandeur is rarely seen outside large opera houses, but the attention to detail that comes with a smaller setting suits “Turandot.” The audience is treated to nuanced performances that would otherwise be lost in a larger location. As the finale reaches its booming crescendo, the icy turquoise and fiery gold blend together and fill the hall, creating an intimate and triumphant fantasy of love, courage, and strength.


CORRECTION

The March 12 Arts story, "'Turnadot' A Visual Delight," incorrectly stated that the set and props were crafted primarily by undergraduates. While the props were done by undergraduates, the set was not.