Having just
reviewed the Callas “Bohème” from the previous
year, I found myself pre-disposed to re-discover another classic
performance in this “Turandot”; as it turned out, that
was not quite the case.
To clear the decks, let me say unequivocally that as much as I admire
Callas and applaud her extraordinary versatility, her voice
never completely encompassed the demands of this most exacting
of Puccini roles. She sang it twenty-one times in the first
two years of her career in Italy because she could, and
voices able to do so were – and remain – rare. However,
she dropped it as soon as possible, revisiting it only
for the purposes of this recording where she presumably
thought she could get away with it. Yet the strain is still
apparent. She does not sound to be in best voice at this
time, despite – or perhaps because of? - having already
successfully recorded both “Il barbiere di Siviglia” in
London the previous February and then, in March, “La Sonnambula”,
in Milan. ”Turandot” requires a big, bold, brassy sing
by a dramatic soprano who can maintain a steady, steely
emission of tone and belt out fearless, gleaming top Cs
and Bs at will. Callas cannot do this and everything from
G upwards tends to flap or harden. Given that Turandot
herself does not appear for almost an hour into the opera,
she really has to make an impact of the right kind; Callas’s
difficulties make one wish for Nilsson. Predictably, her
best moments come in the last fifteen minutes of the opera
when the ice-princess melts; she brings great tenderness
to “Del primo pianto”. I do not want to belittle her achievement
in bringing Turandot to life; she makes telling use of
her biting lower register and brings her customary insight
into interpretation of text. I am not the first to suggest
that the turmoil of her own emotional life informed her
characterisation of Turandot, who emerges as a complex,
detailed, touching creation; but the performance as a whole
does not display Callas’s best vocal gifts.
The recording is in clean, clear, slightly boxy mono, expertly restored,
as ever, by Mark Obert-Thorn. The pity of it is that the
aforementioned “Barbiere” was stereo and Decca had already
made a stereo “Turandot” two years previously. So much
of this music consists of grand crowd scenes and ensembles
punctuated by brass and timpani, but the overall aural
effect here is rather cramped. It’s a pleasure to encounter
immediately as the Mandarin so firm-voiced a bass as “Giulio
Mauri” - apparently - and unmistakably - a sobriquet for Nicola Zaccaria, doing
a mitzvah for an inadequate colleague on the understanding
that he would still get paid. Given his imposing and distinctive
tone, in combination with the characteristic little lisp,
I wonder that anyone thought he could get away with it
undetected – not that it matters.
The casting of Schwarzkopf as Liù was controversial. Reactions to
her voice are always very personal. I find her somewhat
shrill, breathy and tremulous and miss the floating line
of Caballé; for me, she is guilty of her besetting fault
of mauling the text and injecting too many little gulps
and swells for emotive effect. She produces a lovely pianissimo
B-flat on “m’hai sorriso”; less so for the same note in “Ah
pieta”. Ultimately, I find her too inclined to apply or
manufacture intensity; I just want the part beautifully
sung by Tebaldi or Caballé, who both have the right vocal
personality and thus move me much more readily.
Eugenio Fernandi, while not a star name, is more than adequate. He
sings a forthright, virile Calf but I miss the clarion
heft of Corelli or the
squillo of Björling, and
his top C only just passes. He certainly holds his own
in the “anything you can sing, I can sing louder” match
with Callas during the riddles.
The rest of the cast is very fine. The Ministers are perfect, displaying
expert comic timing and vocal acting; the chorus – albeit
rather distanced from the microphone – is responsive and
energised; the orchestral playing is skilfully paced by
the veteran Serafin, who conducted performances of “Turandot” in
the year of its première. Another pleasing link with 1926
is that Giuseppe Nessi, who sings the Emperor here, sang
the first Pong. The sheer barbarism of this rather nasty
opera and the exotic innovation of Puccini’s
chinoiserie emerge
triumphant.
So for me this “Turandot” does not take its place in the Pantheon
of indispensable Callas recordings, though fans of
La
Divina will want it whatever I say. Almost everything
and everyone on this recording is surpassed in another
recorded version and first choice remains with the Mehta
set, in rich, spacious stereo and featuring two great divas
in Sutherland and Caballé, and Pavarotti matching his benchmark
performances as a Puccini tenor
par excellence in
the Karajan “La Bohème” and “Madama
Butterfly”. Others might gravitate towards either of the
Nilsson assumptions, paired with Björling or Corelli, but
the RCA set conducted by Leinsdorf suffers from scrawny
sound and not everyone warms to Corelli’s taking liberties
in the EMI version conducted by Molinari-Pradelli. Personally,
I want all three but must consign this interesting Serafin
set to the curiosity category; its fate is a classic proof
of the old adage that “the best is the enemy of the good”.
For the record, the libretto is by Adami
and Simoni, based on Friedrich Schiller's adaptation of the
play
Turandot by
Carlo Gozzi.
Ralph Moore
La principessa Turandot
- Maria Callas (soprano) 
