Puccini’s final opera “Turandot” Live in HD from the Met Jan. 30 in a spectacular production | BERKSHIRE ON STAGE and SCREEN BERKSHIRE ON STAGE and SCREEN From the Berkshires to Broadway and Beyond Menu Larry Murray / January 21, 2016 Marco Berti as Calaf, Alexander Tsymbalyuk as Timur, and Anita Hartig as Liù in Puccini’s Turandot. Photo by Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera. Marco Berti as Calaf with Ping, Pang and Pong in Puccini’s “Turandot.” Photographed by Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera. Nina Stemme in the title role of Puccini’s Turandot. Photo by Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera. A scene from Puccini’s Turandot. Photo by Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera. A scene from Act I of Puccinis Turandot. Photo: Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera.

Turandot, the grandest of grand operas by Larry Murray For those who love Puccini as I do, his high water mark was Turandot, an opera which demands both spectacular resources for staging and almost impossible vocal dexterity and passion from its singers. Many a great tenor made their reputation singing Calàf in that opera, eminences such as Franco Corelli , Placido Domingo and more recently Joseph Calleja . Their singing electrified audiences even before the popular “Nessun Dorma” in the third act. The goosebumps often began from the moment the Met’s chandeliers rose into the ceiling. If that is a high water mark for contemporary tenors to live up to, then imagine the constant comparisons people make with the Luciano Pavarotti and Andrea Bocelli versions that has made an indelible imprint on listeners who don’t know Aida from Lucia. One of the great tenors of our time, Marco Berti, takes on the role in this Live in HD telecast, and comparisons are inevitable. The New York critics think he does a solid job.

It is arguable that from both a music and spectacle viewpoint, there is no grander opera in the whole repertoire, not even Verdi’s Aida with its grand march can measure up to the sustained tension of the story of a princess who did not want to get married off to some stranger. In any case, you will be able to listen and decide for yourself in the comfort of a local theatre on Saturday, January 30, 2016 at 12:55 p.m. EST ( check your times and local theatres here ) when The Met:Live in HD transmits Turandot by Giacomo Puccini to our local screens. In the Berkshires of Massachusetts, the opera can be viewed at the Mahaiwe in Great Barrington and the Beacon Cinemas in Pittsfield. The host for this opera is Renée Fleming. The running time will be approximately 3 hours, 30 minutes. Puccini’s final opera is one of the most spectacular productions in the Met repertory, and returns to the Live in HD series on Saturday, January 30 at 12:55pm ET.

Swedish dramatic soprano Nina Stemme sings her first Met performances of the demanding title role of Puccini’s Chinese ice princess, with Anita Hartig in her company role debut as the angelic slave girl Liù. Marco Berti sings Calàf, the suitor who risks his head for Turandot’s hand, and Alexander Tsymbalyuk sings Timur. Paolo Carignani conducts Franco Zeffirelli’s visually stunning 1987 production. The Critical Reception “[Nina Stemme] managed to render the grisly ice maiden surprisingly vulnerable… Her powerful, luxuriant voice retained its warmth throughout the evening, with blazing high notes that were never forced or shrill, even when projected over the massed ensembles of orchestra and chorus… The soprano Anita Hartig sang beautifully as the self-sacrificing Liu, her alluring voice plaintive and expressive; the rich-voiced bass-baritone Alexander Tsymbalyuk rendered Timur with dignity.

Paolo Carignani conducted a lithe and detailed reading of Puccini’s sumptuous score.” —The New York Times “[Nina Stemme] commands the power, sensitivity, verbal acuity and authority to make the essentially unsympathetic princess of legendary Peking magnetic…[Marco Berti] exudes dignity, rises nicely to mighty climaxes and even manages to sing softly once in a while.” —Financial Times “The Emperor’s palace is one of the most blindingly opulent scenes the Met has to offer… From[Anita Hartig’s] very first moments, it was clear that she had crafted a complete vocal and dramatic character, communicating the urgency of her tormented love through ravishing singing. Hers is a voice of color and body, essentially light-lyric. The supporting cast was excellent, particularly Alexander Tsymbalyuk as the old king Timur. He showed a spacious, rich, mahogany-colored bass-baritone, and conveyed extraordinary pathos in his portrayal.” —New York Classical Review World premiere: Teatro alla Scala, Milan, April 1926. Met and U.S. premiere: November 16, 1926.

Puccini’s final opera is an epic fairy tale set in a China of legend, loosely based on a play by 18th-century Italian dramatist Carlo Gozzi. Featuring a most unusual score with an astounding and innovative use of chorus and orchestra, it is still recognizably Puccini, bursting with instantly appealing melody. The unenviable task of completing the opera’s final scene upon Puccini’s sudden death was left to the composer Franco Alfano. Conductor Arturo Toscanini oversaw Alfano’s contribution and led the world premiere. ACT I China, in ancient times. Outside the Imperial Palace a mandarin reads an edict to the crowd: any prince seeking to marry Princess Turandot must answer three riddles. If he fails, he will die. The most recent suitor, the Prince of Persia, is to be executed at the moon’s rising. Among the onlookers are the slave girl Liù, her aged master, and the young Calàf, who recognizes the old man as his long-lost father, Timur, vanquished King of Tartary.

Only Liù has remained faithful to him, and when Calàf asks her why she replies that once, long ago, Calàf smiled at her. The mob cries for blood but greets the rising moon with a sudden fearful silence. When the Prince of Persia is led to his execution, the crowd calls upon the princess to spare him. Turandot appears and wordlessly orders the execution to proceed. Transfixed by the beauty of the unattainable princess, Calàf decides to win her, to the horror of Liù and Timur. Turandot’s three ministers, Ping, Pang, and Pong, also try to discourage him, but Calàf is unmoved. He comforts Liù, then strikes the gong that announces a new suitor. ACT II Inside the palace, Ping, Pang, and Pong lament Turandot’s bloody reign, hoping that love will conquer her and restore peace. Their thoughts wander to their peaceful country homes, but the noise of the crowd gathering to witness the riddle challenge calls them back to reality. Before the assembled court, the old emperor asks Calàf to reconsider, but he will not be dissuaded. Turandot appears.

She recounts the story of her beautiful ancestor, Princess Lou-Ling, who was abducted and killed by a conquering prince. In revenge, she has turned against men and determined that none shall ever possess her. She poses her first question to Calàf: What is born each night and dies each dawn? “Hope,” Calàf answers, correctly. Turandot continues: What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not a flame? “Blood,” Calàf replies after a moment’s thought. Shaken, Turandot delivers the third riddle: What is like ice but burns? Tense silence prevails until Calàf triumphantly cries, “Turandot!” The crowd erupts in joy, and the princess vainly begs her father not to give her to the stranger. Hoping to win her love, Calàf offers Turandot a challenge of his own: if she can learn his name by dawn, he will forfeit his life. ACT III At night in the Imperial Gardens, Calàf hears a proclamation: on pain of death no one in Peking shall sleep until Turandot learns the stranger’s name.

Calàf is certain of his victory, but Ping, Pang, and Pong try to bribe him to leave the city. As the fearful mob threatens him to learn his name, soldiers drag in Liù and Timur. Calàf tries to convince the crowd that neither of them knows his secret. When Turandot appears, commanding Timur to speak, Liù replies that she alone knows the stranger’s identity and will never reveal it. She is tortured but remains silent. Impressed by her fortitude, Turandot asks Liù’s secret. It is love, she replies. When the soldiers intensify the torture, Liù tells Turandot that she, too, will know the joys of love. Then she snatches a dagger and kills herself. The crowd forms a funeral procession and the body is taken away. Turandot remains alone to confront Calàf, who impetuously kisses her. Knowing emotion for the first time, Turandot weeps. Calàf, now sure of winning her, reveals his identity. Once again before the emperor’s throne, Turandot declares she knows the stranger’s name: it is Love.

Share this: Met Opera: Love Wins Again in Puccini's 'Turandot' | The Huffington Post Met Opera: Love Wins Again in Puccini's 'Turandot' 09/24/2015 12:42 pm ET | Updated Sep 24, 2016 Wilborn Hampton Author, theater critic Met Love can conquer all, and if there are any lingering doubts about it the Metropolitan Opera's fabulous production of Puccini's Turandot, which returned to the stage last night with a solid cast, should erase them. With the strong soprano Christine Goerke taking the title role, a reliable Marcelo Alvarez as her fearless suitor Calaf, and a fresh Hibla Gerzmava as Liu, this is a stirring Turandot that the Met will make available to audiences around the world on Jan. 30 when it will be shown in over 2,000 theaters in some 70 countries as part of its Live in HD series. Puccini had nearly finished Turandot when he traveled from Italy to Brussels in the fall of 1924 for treatment for throat cancer, a condition the severity of which he was unaware.

The operation apparently was successful, but he suffered a heart attack and died a few weeks later, the final work on the opera not yet completed. Arturo Toscanini, who was to conduct the Turandot premiere at La Scala, enlisted Franco Alfano to complete the score based on Puccini's notes. And although on opening night a year and a half later Toscanini put down his baton at the point at which Puccini wrote his last note, the full opera with Alfano's finale has become a standard of the operatic repertoire. The story is based on an 18th-century play by the Venetian satirist Carlo Gozzi about an ancient Chinese emperor whose daughter, Turandot, refuses to marry any man who cannot answer three riddles she proposes. The stakes are high. If a suitor tries and fails, he is beheaded. Enter Calaf, a Tartan prince, who suddenly sees his long-lost and deposed father, Timur, in a crowd of Chinese commoners waiting to watch the execution of the latest unlucky candidate for Turandot's hand.

Timur, is attended by a faithful slave girl named Liu, and when Calaf decides to try his luck with the riddles, both plead without success to dissuade him. Calaf, of course, aces the riddles, but the danger doesn't end there. Turandot vows she will never yield to him, and Calaf, who had entered the contest anonymously, is so confident that his love can overcome her resistance he promises that if she can discover his name by dawn the next morning, he will forfeit his claim to her and submit to the executioner. If the plot challenges the limits of credulity, the music contains lyrical and dramatic passages that are full of tenderness, hope, and passion: such as Liu's opening act aria "Signore, ascolte," Calaf's third-act "Nessun dorma," and Turandot's great second-act "In questa Reggia," one of opera's grand show-stopping moments. Goerke, a New York native who has risen from ensemble singing to starring roles, is a splendid dramatic soprano whose range runs from Wagner to Mozart.

She has a powerful voice that can soar above the Met Orchestra and Chorus, and a commanding stage presence as well. Goerke's Turandot is a princess who is clearly used to being obeyed and her rendering of "In questa Reggia" is assured and gripping. Alvarez has become a go-to tenor for the Met and his Calaf adds to a list of more than a dozen leading roles he has sung for the company. He has a pleasing voice that is comfortable in both upper and lower registers. It is a challenge for any tenor to sing "Nessun dorma," an aria Pavarotti made almost a signature song, on the Met stage but Alvarez delivers it admirably. As Liu, the Georgian soprano Hibla Gerzmava, in only her third role for the Met (though she will sing Desdemona in the new Otello later in the season), gives a moving and earnest "Signore, ascolta," and her rich and warm voice makes her third-act "Tanto amore segreto" a highlight of the performance.

James Morris sings a convincing Timur, and Dwayne Croft, Tony Stevenson, and Eduardo Valdes, as Ping, Pang, and Pong, provide a wistful second-act act trio, dreaming of their homes far from Peking. The Italian conductor Paolo Carignani brings all the emotion of Puccini's score from the superb Met Orchestra, and from the opening scene to the closing one, the Met Chorus is magnificent. Franco Zeffirelli's 1987 production is one of the gems in the Met repertory. From the teeming masses in the opening scene (with the heads of princes who failed the riddle test impaled on staffs around the stage), to the opulence of the imperial palace, it is a time travel fantasy that can take one's breath away. It is remarkable when a 28-year-old production can still elicit gasps and applause from an audience, and Zeffirelli's majestic set for the emperor's celestial palace does just that. More: Melting the icy heart of frightened princess.

“Turandot” by Giacomo Puccini, The Metropolitan Opera, September 30th, 2015 – operaexplorer Travelling and enjoying opera performances Melting the icy heart of frightened princess. “Turandot” by Giacomo Puccini, The Metropolitan Opera, September 30th, 2015 The final opera of Puccini, completed by Toscanini, with its roots in Chinese folk tales and recognisable melodious hit “Nessun dorma!” is one of the all time favourites for most of opera houses. Usually the story also gets beautiful sets and keeps traditional Chinese flavour both in music and appearances. The Metropolitan Opera production is one of the most impressive examples, with current production by Franco Zeffirelli running since 1987. It has seen James Levine conducting, Placido Domingo, Luciano Pavarotti, Johan Botha and Marcello Giordani as Calaf, Maria Guleghina as Turandot and Angela Gheorghiu and Teresa Stratas as Liu.

The performance on September 30th I have attended was 299th for Metropolitan Opera, and the third of 2015-2016 season. In the beginning the impression of the set was a bit too dark, especially looking the stage from the top of the house as the people entering it were wearing greyish clothes that blended in the night scene perfectly. The fun characters of Ping, Pang and Pong created more colourful accents as belonged to royal court rather than common people. Regardless of the first impression, Zeffirelli set design is very impressive, rich in detail and costumes are breathtaking for the revival! The opening of scene 2 of Act II created collective sigh of surprise in the audience, as it was visually so impressive and in contrast with initial setting of Act I, and raised platform with distant Turandot encircled with her maids created a real fairy tale atmosphere. The only drawback of the staging was location of the Emperor so deep in the stage that his voice was practically sinking in the depth of the palace.

It was my first time seeing Marcelo Alvarez in the role of Calaf, having heard him singing only “Nessun dorma!” in recitals before, and even if his acting seemed bit artificial at some moments, the singing was nuanced and emotionally filled, with characteristic high notes perfectly delivered. It sounded as if he needed some time to warm up, as in the first scenes it felt that top notes are forced, till Act III and his main arias Alvarez was in top form and created brave, confident and vocally strong Calaf. Christine Goerke as Turandot succeeded in portraying transformation from cold-hearted and distanced princess, ruthlessly slaying all her suitors to fragile and sensitive young woman in love. Her impressive dramatic soprano is well suited for the role, and the audience appreciated her performance enthusiastically. Even if understanding that her shrilly metallic tone was masterfully used for the purpose of creating character, I would have preferred her using a bit softer sound. Understandably her tone changed for the final scene and the contrast told most of the transformation story, and undeniably Goerke’s vocal capabilities and mastery are very impressive. Turandot (Christine Goerke) and Calaf (Marcelo Alvarez).

Photo from website There were some people including me wondering if Hibla Gerzmava as the casting choice for Liu was the best option since the stereotype for the character is weak, helpless woman sacrificing her life for higher purpose and thus would require tender, lyric soprano. All the worries regards right fit were biased, as strong and rich voice of Hibla Gerzmava added more meaning and opened new angles how to look at her heroine. Determined, courageous, self-confident and tenderly loving young woman consciously choosing her destiny and sacrificing her life for one she loves more than herself – she made the suicide scene dramatically intense and touching. Conductor Paolo Carignani gave good energetic tempi to the orchestra, which sounded perfectly, combining traditional Chinese melodies with Italian operatic flavour, creating easy recognisable Puccini tone. In the beginning The Met chorus sounded a bit sharp, the sound improved noticeably during first scene, and further on the chorus delivered impeccable singing. Overall impression of the performance was good but not extraordinary, even if singers did their best, orchestra and chorus supported them well, and the sets and costumes established environment for grand spectacle – some immaterial stage chemistry and passion unfortunately was missing there.

If you would like to see classical staging of one of the remaining Zeffirelli productions, this one could be right choice to enjoy if you happen to visit The Met! Christine Goerke (Turandot) and Marcelo Alvarez (Calaf) at curtain call Christine Goerke (Turandot) at curtain call The Turandot cast at curtain call COMPOSER: Giacomo Puccini Turandot | The Opera 101 The Opera 101 Fill out the fields below to contact us! Your name * Quiz About Turandot is Puccini’s final opera (unfinished at his death) and perhaps as a result, it is by far and away his most musically adventurous. As in Madama Butterfly , the score is filled with Asian touches, the percussion section in particular packed with gongs and various tuned instruments (xylophones, glockenspiels and the like). It is still, however, an Italian opera with the outrageously titled Ping, Pang and Pong a spin on classic Commedia dell’arte characters. Turandot at the Royal Opera House It’s an opera that blends epic chorus passages with some brilliantly intimate moments.

Indeed the chorus plays a much more significant role than in Puccini’s other operas, acting as an onstage witness to well over half of the action. The opening is a powerful series of five chords, said to musically depict an executioner’s axe falling, and that hair-raising effect is spectacularly well maintained throughout. The Opening of Turandot Turandot also contains arguably the most famous tenor aria in all of opera, "Nessun Dorma", an instantly recognizable piece of music that has lost its dark meaning by being repeatedly considered out of context. The conclusion stretches incredulity even by operatic standards, but as Puccini didn’t write it, he can’t be blamed! Characters Formerly king of Tartary. Currently old and blind. Synopsis Act I - Running Time: 35 mins The curtain rises on a surging crowd. A mandarin announces that anyone wishing to marry Princess Turandot must answer three riddles. Failure means death. The Prince of Persia has just failed and will be executed when the moon rises. The bloodlust of the crowd is dealt with brutally by the palace guards, and Timur, a blind, old man is knocked to the ground.

Liu, his slave, cries out for help and Calaf comes to their aid. As luck would have it Calaf is Timur’s son! Timur was king of Tartary, making Calaf a prince, but has long been deposed. Only Liu has remained faithful to him. Calaf warns them not to mention his name as he fears being discovered by the Emperor. Turandot at the Forbidden City Calaf (Jose Cura) © Johan Persson/Royal Opera As the moon rises the Prince of Persia is led to his death. The crowd appeals in his favor but Turandot appears and signals for the execution to continue. Calaf sees Turandot and falls in love. The Prince of Persia is executed. Blinded by Turandot’s beauty, Calaf is about to rush forward and bang the gong, signaling that he wishes to take the riddles, when Ping, Pang and Pong appear. The jaunty threesome tell him not to risk it, as do Timur and Liu, the latter being not very secretly in love with Calaf. Calaf is touched but never the less runs forward shouting Turandot’s name and bangs the gong three times.

Turandot accepts his challenge as the curtain falls on Act I. Act II - Running Time: 50 mins Scene 1 Ping, Pang and Pong discuss their place in society, interspersing humor - do we prepare for a wedding or a funeral - and nostalgia - we are living in an era of endless death. A trumpet sounds announcing the entrance of the Emperor. Scene 2 The Emperor asks Calaf to withdraw his challenge. Turandot emerges and begins to describe why no man may possess her. (This is actually the first music she sings in the opera.) Her ancestor Princess Lo-u-Ling ruled until she was raped and murdered by a foreign prince, and Turandot believes Lo-u-Ling lives in her. Out of revenge, no man will ever have her. She advises Calaf to withdraw but he is having none of it. She gives the three riddles... What is born each night and dies each dawn? What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire? What is like ice, but burns like fire? ...each of which he correctly answers. Turandot is distraught at having to marry and pleads with her father, but he insists that she go through with it.

Calaf, believing love will win out, gives her one possible escape: he is a prince and if she can learn his name before sunrise, then he will die at dawn. Turandot accepts and the curtain falls - the Emperor hoping the Prince will be his son. Act III - Running Time: 40 mins Scene 1 Turandot has commanded that no one sleep until the Prince’s name is discovered. Everyone will be killed if they don’t learn the name and she has to marry. Calaf awaits the dawn, and while he’s at it sings a ditty called "Nessun Dorma" (you’ve probably heard it before). Placido Domingo sings "Nessun Dorma" Ping, Pang and Pong turn up and try to buy off Calaf with women and riches. He is not interested. They then drag in Timur and Liu but Calaf pretends he knows nothing about them. They get roughed up a bit, and suddenly Liu, to protect Timur, claims that she alone knows the Prince’s name but will not give it up. She is tortured but still refuses. Turandot asks why she would suffer such pain and she answers love.

Turandot doesn’t think much of this answer so she has Liu tortured further. Liu tells Turandot that she will soon learn love before promptly taking a dagger off a soldier and stabbing herself. As Liu falls dead Timur must be informed since he is blind, and he cries out in sadness. The crowd and he leave with the body of Liu. Calaf chastises Turandot for effectively slaughtering the heart and soul of the opera and then pulls her in and kisses her. (At this point Puccini finishes and Alfano takes over). After the kiss Turandot is horrified but gradually she softens. She reveals that she has always (since Act I at least) both hated and loved the Prince. She tells him to leave, but he bravely reveals his name: “I am Calaf, son of Timur.” His life sits in her hands... Scene 2 Predictably but rather unbelievably - not to mention mawkishly - the couple approach the emperor and Turandot announces that she knows the Prince’s name and it is love. Everyone is happy and the opera ends to the tune of "Nessun Dorma".

Turandot finale in MET's Zeffirelli production © Marty Sohl/Met Opera Major Arias Tu che di gel sei cinta Liu Where in the World Turandot takes place in fictional ancient China. Peking is specified (marked in Red), which is the old name for Beijing, but it might as well be set in Shanghai for all the geographical detail. Story Origins Nizami Ganjavi The story of Turandot originates in a French collection of fairy tales by François Pétis de la Croix “Les mille et un jours” translated into English as “The thousand and one days”. You might know “One thousand and one nights” or the “Arabian Nights” from which we acquired Aladdin, Sinbad, Ali Baba and host of other famous tales. These collections shouldn’t be confused however, “Nights” is made up of genuine Middle Eastern stories compiled in Arabic over centuries. “Days” has a more dubious provenance. In many cases these stories only exist in de la Croix’s rendering leading some to believe he might have conjured them up himself.

If Turandot has a precursor it is a 12th Century work by the Azerbaijani poet and philosopher Nizami Ganjavi “Seven Beauties”. In any case, Puccini arrived at the text through a Schiller play that was in turn a German version of an Italian commedia dell'arte by Carlo Gozzi who took the story from the de la Croix. Puccini was first introduced to the text in an Italian translation of the Schiller by Andrea Maffei who is perhaps most famous for writing the libretto to Verdi’s I masnadieri. Puccini wasn’t the first composer to get to it either. Antonio Bazzini wrote Turanda in 1867, Ferruccio Busoni Turandot in 1917 only a few years before Puccini began his. Puccini had not heard Busoni’s version but Bazzini had been a teacher of Puccini’s in Milan. History Puccini was always a fastidious and deliberate composer, but the writing of Turandot was an especially drawn out process.

In the four years before his death, Puccini vacillated over the number of acts, whether or not he should turn his attention to something less serious, and absolutely fixated over the final love duet that he believed was the essential, earth-shattering culmination of the entire evening. Despite these circumstances, he poured himself into the work, writing to a friend in March 1924, “I have placed, in this opera, all my soul.” Premiere Program from La Scala Turandot premiered at La Scala in Milan on 25 April 1926, almost a year and a half after Puccini’s death. Puccini’s friend Arturo Toscanini, who had worked on the score with the composer during the last months of Puccini’s life, conducted the premiere. As is widely recorded, when the opera reached the last note written by Puccini, Toscanini ended the performance.

What he said at the time has been variously reported, from the poetic “Here death triumphed over art” to the poigniant “For me, the work ends here.” An eyewitness quoted in a recent biography puts it somewhere between the two: “Here ends the opera, because at this point the maestro was dead.” The Alfano version was presented the following night. Fun Facts Popular? Birgit Nilsson as Turandot The 16th most performed opera in the world from 2007-2012, according to Operabase. This frequency was not always the case. Beginning in 1930, Turandot was not performed for more than three decades at the Met, after Maria Jeritza, who premiered the role there, sang her last of 23 Turandots. It did not return until 1961 when Birgit Nilsson took on the princess, a role she owned in New York until 1970, singing it 52 times.

The long break was due at least partly to a dearth of sopranos capable of singing the difficult title role, a criteria which some opera lovers of a certain age feel should be applied today to any role ever sung by Maria Callas. In China Until the end of the 20th century, Turandot was banned in the People’s Republic of China because the government felt the opera portrayed China unfavourably. The ban ended in style, with an epic performance in 1998 given in the Forbidden City, the home of actual Chinese emperors until they stopped having them in 1912. The production was originally staged and conducted in Florence, Italy, by Zubin Mehta and Chinese film director Zhang Yimou (who later directed the opening and closing ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics). A documentary called “The Turandot Project” tells how the production eventually came to China and how it was adapted.

There is also a video of the actual concert (you can see a clip in the synopsis), with the snappy title “Turandot at the Forbidden City of Beijing.” Vincero The second syllable of vincerò, “I will win,” is a high B, near the top of most tenors’ ranges and a nice note for them to show off. As the Ricordi vocal score shows, that B is really just a sixteenth note, a grace note. The final syllable, on A, is supposed to be held, although again not nearly as long as it generally is by the large-lunged tenors of today. While Lucciano Pavarotti may be credited with popularizing this basking in high-B land, the trend actually goes much further back. In fact, one of the few (if not the only) tenors to end the aria the way Puccini wrote it is Francesco Merli, heard here from the first complete recording of Turandot, done in 1938. Compare with Pavarotti, live from San Francisco in 1977.

options font-size=14 width=400 space=20 player=true tempo=60 accidentals=standard tabstave notation=true tablature=false notes :8d B/4 :16 D/5 | :hd G/5 :8d D/5 :16 B/5 | :w A/5 Francesco Merli sings Nessun Dorma, 1938 Pavarotti sings Nessun Dorma, 1977 The Ending How to end Turandot remains an ongoing problem. After Puccini’s death, his friend Arturo Toscanini, who would conduct the premiere, suggested the task of finishing the opera be given to the young composer Franco Alfano. Alfano had piles of Puccini’s sketches from which to work, but much of it was difficult to decipher, including the intriguing note regarding the love duet “Then Tristan...” referring to Wagner’s opera Tristan und Isolde, which ends absolutely breathtakingly as the soprano transfigures in a love-death to be with her true love who has already died.

An edited version of Alfano’s ending, which no one really finds satisfactory, pretty much rules opera houses today, although in 2001 the Italian composer Luciano Berio, produced a version that many critics feel should supplant the Alfano version. Among other attempts were Janet Maguire’s rather less successful go in the 1970s and Chinese composer Hao Weiya (see the Mo Li Hua fun fact). Mo Li Hua The Jasmine Flower song, or Mo Li Hua, was one of several traditional Chinese tunes that Puccini incorporated into the score of Turandot. He likely heard the piece on a music box belonging to his friend Baron Alberto Fassini. It is still sufficiently popular that it is a track on Disney's Baby Einstein: World Music album. It was also the tune used by Chinese composer Hao Weiya to end the opera in his 2008 attempt at (another) new ending. That latest attempt was, perhaps not surprisingly, adored by the Chinese press but probably will not supplant the Alfano ending any time soon.

Mo Li Hua from Baby Einstein: World Music In Brief Librettist Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simoni Language Italian Date of premiere April 25, 1926 Number of Acts 3 Opera: Puccini's "Turandot" | 好戏网 好戏网首页 » 歌剧 » Opera: Puccini's "Turandot" Opera: Puccini's "Turandot" When: 12-13 Dec 2014 Fri-Sat 19:45, 13-14 Dec Sat-Sun 14:30 Where: Concert Hall, Hong Kong City Hall ⇒ 歌剧：浦契尼《杜兰朵》 Turandot is the last opera written by Giacomo Puccini. The libretto was written by dramatist Renato Simoni in collaboration with the poet Giuseppe Adami. The Princess Turandot only marry a suitor of royal blood who can answer three riddles set by her. Anyone who fails are beheaded. Calaf, heir to the throne of Tartary, successfully answers all three riddles. But Turandot now reneges on her promise.

Calaf offers to release her and to die at her hand if she can discover his name before dawn. Finally, Turandot is deeply moved by Calaf's genuine affections. When Puccini died in November 1924, he left the final duet and concluding scene of Turandot unfinished. Franco Alfano was engaged to complete the opera based on the sketches and notes left by Puccini. The Alfano ending has been performed as an integral part of Puccini's masterpiece ever since its first appearance in 1926. The important contemporary Italian composer Luciano Berio was commissioned by the House of Ricordi, Puccini's publisher, to compose a new ending for the opera in 2002. This Berio version has been performed by the Los Angeles Opera, at the Amsterdam Muziektheater, the Salzburg Festival and other important productions. Musica Viva perform both the Alfano (in the first and third performances) and Berio (in the second and last) endings in this production. This is not only the Asian premiere of Berio's effort, but also the first time ever of both endings being presented side by side in consecutive performances of the same production.

The production is directed by Lo Kingman and conducted by Lio Kuokman . Lio has been recently appointed assistant conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra. He is the first Chinese conductor to assume this position. He is also the winner of this year's Evgeny Svetlanov Competition in France. The production features a team of world-renowned opera stars who have sung with the Metropolitan Opera of New York, Chicago Lyric Opera, National Opera in London and some of the most prestigious companies world-wide, performing with excellent artists from Hong Kong. When Puccini died on 29 November 1924, he had written all the music of Turandot, including full orchestration, up to the end of the scene of Liu's death. He left 36 pages of sketches for the remaining scenes of the opera with many annotations regarding his musical intentions and orchestration. Franco Alfano, at that time Director of the Turin Conservatory of Music, was commissioned to complete the opera based on these sketches. The Alfano version was then revised for performance in accordance with the wishes of the first conductor of the work, Arturo Toscanini.

This revised version is the generally available published version, which is being used for the first and third performances of the present production. In 2001, the House of Ricordi, Puccini's publisher, commissioned a new ending by the distinguished contemporary composer Luciano Berio, President and Director of the National Academy Santa Cecilia of Rome. This new ending was completed in 2002 and first performed in Los Angeles and Amsterdam. It is being presented in the second and final performances of this Musica Viva production. An Opera in 3 Acts. Performed in Italian with Chinese and English Surtitles. A Musica Viva Production. Act 1 A square in front of the imperial palace, in ancient China, in legendary times. A court official of high standing reads a proclamation which states that the Princess Turandot, daughter of the Emperor Altoum, shall marry the first man of royal blood who solves three riddles set by her. Any suitor who fails to guess the answers are be beheaded. The heads of many unsuccessful suitors are already impaled on poles erected on the palace walls. That night at moonrise, the latest unfortunate victim, the Prince of Persia, is executed.

The crowd of people in the square is greatly excited by the proclamation. Some of them try to force their way to the palace to call out the chief executioner Pu Tin-pao. They are roughly handled by the guards and in the confused struggle a blind old man is knocked to the ground. He is Timur, the banished King of Tartary, who is accompanied by the faithful slave-girl Liu. A young man comes forward to help them, and he recognizes the old king as his long lost father. The young man is Calaf, he too being pursued by the enemy who had usurped his father's throne. The old king describes Liu's care and affection, and Calaf asks her why she has chosen to share so much suffering. Liu answers that it is because one day, at the palace, Calaf smiled at her. Meanwhile, the crowd watch with excitement the executioner's assistants sharpening a number of scimitar blades on the grindstone. The blades are then taken away for the executioner to choose for use later that night. The crowd now invokes the moon to rise so that the execution can take place. Soon the latest victim, the Prince of Persia, appears and the mood of the crowd turns to pity.

They appeal to the Princess for mercy, while Calaf cries out his wish to see her so that he may curse her for her cruelty. Turandot at last appears. With one decisive gesture, she orders the executioner to proceed. The crowd follows the procession, leaving Calaf, Timur and Liu alone in the square. At his first sight of the cold and beautiful Turandot, Calaf falls madly in love. He is eager to strike the great gong to announce himself as the next suitor, but is stopped by the sudden appearance of the three ministers of the court: Ping, the Grand Chancellor; Pang, the General Purveyor; and Pong, the Royal Cook. These three try to dissuade Calaf from gambling his own head. Timur reminds him that no one has succeeded in solving the riddles. Liu too adds her moving appeal to Calaf not to let his father die in exile and make her lose the memory of his smile. Calaf responds by asking Liu to look after her old master should adverse fate befall him. Calling Turandot's name, he strikes the gong.

Act 2 Ping, Pang and Pong meet to lament the state of affairs in the empire and especially in the imperial city, where beheadings are becoming more and more frequent. They discuss preparations for the wedding should the new suitor win, and for the funeral should he lose. They indulge in nostalgic longing for a peaceful life in their native country instead of wasting time and talent on the sacred books. They even imagine Turandot conquered by love and enjoying nuptial happiness, thus restoring peace and dignity to great China; but they soon realize that this is day-dreaming. So the three ministers prepare themselves for the great ceremony and trial of the riddles. The court assembles, watched by the crowd. Emperor Altoum makes an effort to dissuade Calaf, but the young prince repeatedly demands the right to face his test. Turandot herself appears in unbelievable magnificence. She tells her audience how ages ago an ancestress of hers was carried off by the Prince of an invading tribe and ravished. In revenge, she has vowed to take the life of any man who dares to desire her. Reminding Calaf that no one ever possess her, Turandot asks the three riddles, one by one.

Each time, Calaf solves the problem successfully, giving the answers: hope, blood, and Turandot. The entire court and crowd burst into joyous song and jubilation. Defeated, Turandot pleads with her father not to give her to the stranger. The emperor insists on keeping the sacred oath, and his sentiment is echoed by all those present. Reassuring the princess that he only wants her as a bride in love, Calaf offers to release her from the oath and to die at her hand if before dawn she can discover his name. The emperor accepts this offer and hopes that by sunrise, he can call the stranger his son. Act 3 Teams of heralds are going around the imperial city proclaiming Turandot's royal command that no one must sleep that night. Under pain of death, the stranger's name must be revealed before morning. Waiting outside the palace, Calaf asks the night to vanish and the stars to extinguish, for he is certain of his victory at dawn. The three ministers and the crowd approach Calaf with bribes of beautiful girls, treasures and power in distant kingdoms in exchange for his immediate departure or his name. Calaf wants nothing but Turandot.

At that moment, the guards brought in Timur and Liu. Turandot also appears and orders that the old man be made to speak. Liu then comes forward to claim that she alone knows the stranger's name; but it is her greatest joy to keep it secret. When asked by Turandot what gives her the strength to resist even torture, Liu explains that it is love which is the supreme gift she can offer to her young master. She then seizes a dagger and kills herself. Liu's death is deeply mourned by Timur, and the saddened crowd follow her body as it is carried off. Left alone, Calaf reproaches Turandot for her cruelty; but tells her that her coldness is false. He tears off her veil and kisses her passionately. Stunned and defeated, Turandot admits that she both loves and fears Calaf, and begs him to go. The young man instead puts his own life in her hands, announcing that his name is Calaf, son of Timur. Dawn approaches. Turandot triumphantly orders Calaf to face the court and the people with her. Before Emperor Altoum, she declares that she has discovered the stranger's name. And his name is Love!

The crowd express their great joy in a hymn to love. Puccini Opera Echoes a Music Box at the Morris Museum - The New York Times The New York Times Music |Music Box as Muse to Puccini’s ‘Butterfly’ Search Music Box as Muse to Puccini’s ‘Butterfly’ By W. ANTHONY SHEPPARD Continue reading the main story Photo A tune sheet from an 1877 Swiss music box with Chinese tunes that Puccini might have listened to, at the Morris Museum in Morristown, N.J. Credit Morris Museum, Morristown, N.J. MORRISTOWN, N.J. THE Murtogh D. Guinness Collection of mechanical musical instruments and automata at the Morris Museum here received national attention after Martin Scorsese’s film “Hugo,” which appeared last November. The museum’s Clown Illusionist , with a disappearing and reappearing head accompanied by a cheery tune, was featured on “CBS Sunday Morning.” Even now few visitors spend much time in the room where the Swiss music boxes are displayed. Yet, being a musicologist, I lingered there alone last January as my children ran ahead.

I kept listening to one box in particular, a harmoniphone from around 1877, equipped with a reed organ and able to play six Chinese tunes from a cylinder. Confused at first, I suddenly realized that I had stumbled on the key to a musicological mystery many decades old. Scholars have long known that Puccini used Chinese tunes in his opera “Turandot” (set in China and left incomplete on Puccini’s death in 1924). But they have been puzzled by the origins of two “Japanese” tunes in his “Madama Butterfly” (set in Japan and first performed in 1904). What I had found were Chinese sources for two major themes in “Butterfly” and a surprising connection between that opera and “Turandot.” Photo An 1877 Swiss music box with Chinese tunes that Puccini might have listened to, at the Morris Museum in Morristown, N.J. Credit Morris Museum, Morristown, N.J. Was it possible that Puccini had heard this very box in Italy and that it provided crucial inspiration for “Madama Butterfly”?

Continue reading the main story We know that he heard a “Chinese” music box in 1920 at the Bagni di Lucca home of Baron Edoardo Fassini-Camossi, a veteran of the 1900 Boxer Rebellion in China and of a military operation there at the end of World War I, and an amateur composer with published pieces to his credit. The baron probably acquired this box and other souvenirs in China at the notorious “loot auctions” that followed the suppression of the Boxers. Advertisement Continue reading the main story Puccini’s visit was leaked to the press and later reported in the librettist Giuseppe Adami’s books on the composer, so opera lovers have long known that three tunes from the Fassini music box, now in the private collection of Lionello Ghiotti in Italy, were prominently featured in “Turandot.” The most famous Chinese song, commonly called “Mo Li Hua” (“Jasmine Flower”), signals the seductive and glorious aspects of the fairy-tale Chinese princess Turandot; another tune accompanies the entrance of the three ministers; a third serves as an imperial hymn.

Photo A production of Puccini’s “Turandot,” at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. Credit Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera Thanks to a tip from a gas station attendant, this music box was rediscovered in Rome on Feb. 5, 1965, by the musicologists Michael Rose and Hans Hammelmann just in time for a BBC radio broadcast about the opera. This box was also featured on Italian television in the 1970s and ’80s and by William Weaver in a 1974 Metropolitan Opera intermission broadcast.

The Guinness box at the Morris Museum includes two of the “Turandot” melodies but also includes a principal theme from “Madama Butterfly,” a melody that the British scholar Julian Budden referred to as “almost the mirror of the soul of Butterfly.” Puccini used several popular Japanese tunes in “Butterfly,” including “Sakura, Sakura” and “Miya Sama,” but the Guinness box reveals that around 1901 he was apparently willing to use Chinese music as well in his representations of what he termed the “yellow race.” For decades, in an effort to reconstruct Puccini’s models, scholars have been stitching together fragments of published Japanese songs that he might have seen. Fortunately the Guinness box includes its original tune sheet, listing the folk-song titles in Chinese and in transliteration, which turns this music box into a Rosetta stone. The main theme for Butterfly, a geisha, is labeled “She Pah Moh” on the tune sheet. Some musicological detective work, with help from the Chinese language scholars Cornelius C. Kubler and Ping Wang, identified the tune as “Shiba Mo,” or “The 18 Touches,” an erotic song often banned in China.

This folk song , which also turns up in Chinese operas, is delivered in the voice of a male lover celebrating 18 parts of a woman’s body in explicit detail, moving caress by caress from head to toe. Photo A production of Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly,” at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. Credit Sara Krulwich/The New York Times The specific moments when “Shiba Mo” appears in “Madama Butterfly” and Puccini’s sense of humor, said to have been rakish, suggest that he knew what the song was about. The melody appears prominently at the climax to Butterfly’s entrance, as she presents herself to her lustful American bridegroom, Lieutenant Pinkerton. Butterfly sings the whole melody , in the same key as on the Guinness music box, as she explains to Pinkerton that she has severed all ties to her Japanese past and will devote herself entirely to him. The tune also appears at the climax of the Act I love duet , as Pinkerton eagerly leads Butterfly into the house to consummate their marriage. Scholars have praised Puccini’s “Japanese orchestrations,” but his setting of “Shiba Mo” can best be described as sounding like a music box.

This is especially true when the tune is heard at a fast music-box clip, complete with imitation birdcalls, as dawn breaks in Act II after Butterfly’s long night anticipating Pinkerton’s return. Knowing the pornographic and mechanical sources for this melody will certainly color our emotional response to this archetypal, cross-cultural tragedy. The second musical motif closely associated with Butterfly — heard most prominently when reference is made to her father’s death — has also inspired an extended hunt for its Japanese source. This motif appears in two of the Chinese melodies on the Guinness box. It seems to have gone unnoticed that this second mystery motif in “Madama Butterfly” appears in slightly different form in “Turandot” as part of the Emperor’s hymn. So the same motif represents an exotic father in each opera. Photo Giacomo Puccini in 1908. Credit A. Dupont/Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Long-held assumptions concerning Puccini’s devotion to exotic authenticity have obscured this and other connections between his two Orientalist operas. On closer inspection the opening measures of “Turandot” seem to pick up exactly where the final measures of “Madama Butterfly” left off.

Indulging in some interpretive fantasy play, we might even ask whether Turandot in 1924 has the 1904 Butterfly in mind when Turandot justifies her ruthless riddles and decapitations of suitors by telling of a long-lost female relative who had been ruined by a foreign male. Advertisement Continue reading the main story How likely is it that Puccini heard the box now on display at the Morris Museum? Unpublished letters made available to me by a descendant of the Fassinis indicate that Puccini had known the family long before his 1920 visit and that he was a friend of Baron Alberto Fassini-Camossi, Edoardo’s brother. Mounting evidence indicates that the Guinness box may also have been owned by the Fassinis and heard by Puccini in time to be of use as he drafted Act I of “Madama Butterfly.” The tune sheet on the Guinness box bears the name of a Shanghai department store that carried Swiss watches and music boxes in the late 19th century.

The title list in Chinese corrects the transliterated order of the last two tunes to match how they actually appear on the cylinder, with “Shiba Mo” as the last melody, indicating that someone in China inspected this box. Finally, the name and address of a repair shop in Rome on the tune sheet reveal that unlike most other Swiss-made music boxes exported to China, this one returned to Europe and was even owned in Italy. Mr. Guinness acquired the box by the early 1960s. Arthur Cunliffe, the president and registrar of the Musical Box Society of Great Britain, reports that in the registry of more than 10,000 music boxes compiled over the past 30 years, only 13 are listed as playing Chinese melodies. This indicates that few boxes returned to the West from China. Of those that did return to Europe, few had the combination of melodies that appeared in Puccini’s operas, and fewer still would have passed through Italy. So far only the Guinness box presents all the right clues suggesting an encounter with Puccini. Photo Frederic Bovet, who brought Chinese tunes to Swiss music boxes.

The origin of Chinese music boxes like the one in the Guinness collection is as fascinating as their role in Puccini’s operas. Up to the mid-19th century the primary sources of knowledge and transcriptions of Chinese music in Europe were the writings of French Jesuit missionaries. But no French Jesuit would touch “The 18 Touches.” That racy tune, one in a set of 10, was taken to Europe in 1845 by Frederic Bovet, a violinist, composer of a published string quartet, vice consul for France during the Second Opium War and member of the successful Bovet Swiss watchmaking family. Seeking to expand their export business to include mechanical music, the Bovets decided to market music boxes featuring Chinese songs. Selections from Bovet’s modest collection of Chinese melodies were soon pinned onto numerous cylinder music boxes for export to China. Leading a multinational company based in London, with offices in Canton and Macao and production in its hereditary home in the Jura valley of Switzerland, the so-called Bovets of China were clearly captains of globalization. But the global impact of Bovet’s Chinese song collection was not previously realized.

The highest-profile tune in Bovet’s collection had already been known in Europe as “Mo Li Hua” (“Jasmine Flower”). But the title given for this melody on the music-box tune sheets is always “Sinfa” (“Fresh Flowers”), and this is the title that Puccini would have seen as he listened to one or more of these boxes. This melody first appears in “Turandot” sung by a boys’ choir accompanied by offstage saxophones. The sound of the saxophones playing this Chinese tune closely resembles the sound of the reed organ appearing on the Guinness and other musical boxes that include “Sinfa.” This is but one of several clues indicating that a music box was Puccini’s source for this melody. Photo Baron Edoardo Fassini-Camossi By featuring “Mo Li Hua”/“Sinfa” in his final opera, Puccini ensured that it would continue to represent China for the next century.

The Chinese composer Tan Dun used this melody, in a setting inspired by Puccini’s, in his “Symphony 1997,” commemorating the transfer of sovereignty over Hong Kong from Britain to China, and in music for the Beijing 2008 Summer Olympics medal ceremonies. Previously, “Mo Li Hua” was used in World War II Hollywood films to represent the Chinese, and the Chinese motif symbolizing Butterfly’s grim Japanese heritage (the one that turns up in “Turandot”) shaped musical stereotypes signaling the Japanese enemy. The cycles of influence and representation set in motion by these music boxes continue in the 21st century. Some mysteries inspired by the well-traveled Guinness box remain unsolved. A recent exploration inside this box revealed fake Chinese writing beneath a caricature of a woman with European facial features. So far this boxed Mona Lisa has refused to give up her secrets. My own discovery of this tale was serendipitous. The Guinness automata drew my family to the Morris Museum, but by the time we left I was embarked on an entirely unforeseen research project. Perhaps another mechanical musical treasure at the Morris holds secrets awaiting the chance encounter of another unsuspecting musicologist.

Correction: June 18, 2012 An earlier version of an audio feature that was posted with this article misspelled the given name of Leontyne Price. W. Anthony Sheppard, who teaches music history at Williams College and is currently at the Institute for Advanced Study, is the author of “Revealing Masks: Exotic Influences and Ritualized Performance in Modernist Music Theater” (University of California Press). A version of this article appears in print on June 17, 2012, on Page AR1 of the New York edition with the headline: Music Box As Muse To Puccini’s ‘Butterfly’. Order Reprints | Today's Paper | Subscribe Giacomo Puccini's 'Turandot' : NPR Giacomo Puccini's 'Turandot' As he woos Turandot, Calaf (tenor Vladimir Galouzine) hopes he'll have a better fate than three of her previous suitors, in a production of Turandot from Houston Grand Opera.

Brett Coomer hide caption toggle caption Brett Coomer From Houston Grand Opera, Calaf (tenor Vladimir Galouzine) woos Princess Turandot, and hopes to avoid the fate of her previous suitors. Brett Coomer Chris Holloway .... Prince of Persia Houston Grand Opera Orchestra and Chorus Patrick Summers, conductor THE HIT SINGLE Picking the biggest hit from Turandot is a no-brainer. In Act 3, Calaf anticipates victory over the willful princess in 'Nessun dorma!' — 'None shall sleep!' Here it is in two recordings, classic and current. One is by Franco Corelli, who rattled the rafters in the 1950s, and the other by Placido Domingo, who is still wowing audiences today.

The Essential Placido Domingo Embed Embed <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player"> The Very Best of Franco Corelli Embed Embed <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player"> Remember Helen of Troy — the beautiful princess with the "face that launched a thousand ships"? Well, in Giacomo Puccini's opera Turandot, the title character is another legendary princess — whose face chopped off a thousand heads! Turandot is based on an ancient fable, originating in Persia and set in China. It tells of a princess so desirable that men came by the hundreds, from all over the world, and queued up to vie for her love. There was a catch, of course. To have any shot at all with Turandot, a suitor first had to answer three vexing riddles — and anyone who failed wound up with his head on a stake, as a warning to all the suitors still standing in line. The opera tells us about the one fellow who did solve the riddles.

But winning the heart of Turandot turns out to take more than just three clever answers. In telling the colorful story, Puccini created an opera that's simultaneously extravagant, exotic, musically powerful and dramatically "over the top." That is, it's got everything an operatic potboiler could possibly want, and then a little bit more! Article continues after sponsorship As a bonus, the man who eventually wins Turandot's heart gets more than just the lovely princess. He also gets to sing what may be the most famous number in opera, the soaring tenor aria "Nessun dorma!" — "None shall sleep!" Even people who think they've never heard an opera aria have probably heard this one. It's been performed by everyone from The Three Tenors, to Sarah Brightman, to the Scottish Fiddle Orchestra! On World of Opera, host Lisa Simeone brings us a production of Turandot from Houston Grand Opera. The tenor who sings the big aria is Vladimir Galouzine , with the American soprano Jennifer Wilson in the title role.

The Story of 'Turandot' Email July 20, 200712:00 PM ET Turandot's ministers Ping, Pang and Pong discuss their cruel princess, and the bloodthirsty state of their kingdom. Brett Coomer hide caption toggle caption Brett Coomer Ana Maria Martinez sings the pivotal role of Liu in Houston Grand Opera's production of Turandot. Brett Coomer hide caption toggle caption Composer Giacomo Puccini died in 1924, leaving Turandot unfinished. Getty Images hide caption toggle caption Getty Images BACKGROUND: Turandot was first performed in 1926 at La Scala, in Milan. The story originated two centuries earlier, in a fiaba, or dramatic fairy tale, by the Italian writer Carlo Gozzi. His inspiration was a compilation of traditional Asian stories, and the tale of Turandot became even more famous when Gozzi's version was adapted by the German playwright Friedrich Schiller. Puccini began sketching music for the opera early in 1921. He wanted some authentic Chinese touches, so he listened to a friend's Chinese music box, and studied sheets of folk music.

But when Puccini died in November of 1924, the opera was incomplete. Conductor Arturo Toscanini suggested that the score be given to the composer Franco Alfano for completion. Toscanini wasn't thrilled with the result. He did conduct the premiere, but in the third act, at the point where Puccini's music stopped and Alfano's began, Toscanini laid down his baton. The score was eventually published with Alfano's ending, edited by Toscanini. ACT 1: The action is set in "legendary times" in Beijing. As the opera opens, a Mandarin reads a proclamation: Any man who wants to marry Princess Turandot must answer three riddles. If he fails, he will die. Turandot's latest suitor, the Prince of Persia, has failed the test and is scheduled to be executed that night. The people have come to view these events as entertainment, and an agitated crowd urges on the executioner. Suddenly, a slave girl called Liu cries out for help — her master has been shoved to the ground and is in danger of being trampled in the mob.

A handsome young man comes to her aid, and recognizes the old man as his long-lost father, Timur, the former king of the Tartars. Timur tells his son, Calaf, that he is still fleeing from his enemies, and that only Liu has remained faithful to him. Calaf asks her why. She says it's because once, long ago, Calaf smiled at her. As the mob cries out for blood, the moon rises. It's the sign for the execution. The condemned Prince of Persia marches by, and the sight of him moves the crowd so much that they ask Princess Turandot to spare him. She refuses. With a gesture of contempt, she tells the executioner to proceed, and the prince is beheaded. Despite her coldness, Calaf is entranced by Turandot and determines to win her over. He approaches a ceremonial gong, ready to strike it as the official signal that the princess has a new suitor. Turandot's ministers Ping, Pang and Pong try to discourage Calaf. Timur and Liu also beg him to stop. But Calaf strikes the gong and calls out Turandot's name.

ACT 2: Ping, Pang and Pong, recall all the lives lost to Turandot's whims, and hope for a more peaceful future. But for now, crowds are gathering to hear the princess put Calaf to the test. To begin his trial, Turandot recounts the gruesome murder of one of her ancestors, the story that explains her cold and vengeful nature. She then confronts Calaf with the first riddle: "What is born each night and dies at dawn?" "Hope," Calaf answers, correctly. Unwavering, Turandot asks the second question: "What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire?" "Blood," says Calaf. Turandot is shaken. No one else has ever gotten even this far with her riddles. She asks the third question: "What is like ice yet burns?" Boldly, Calaf answers, "Turandot!" Right again. Aghast, Turandot turns to her father. She begs him not to make her go through with the marriage.

Seeing her distress, Calaf proposes a riddle of his own: If she can guess his name by dawn, he will give up his claim on Turandot, and sacrifice his life. ACT 3: In the palace gardens, the stage is set for one of opera's most famous moments. There has been an official decree: On pain of death, no one in Beijing shall sleep until Turandot learns his name. Hearing this, Calaf realizes how desperate the Princess has become, and he ponders his impending victory over Turandot in the the aria — "Nessun dorma!" — "None shall sleep!" Ping, Pang, and Pong arrive and try to get him to call off the whole thing. It seems Turandot has told the ministers that they'll all be killed if Calaf's identity remains a secret. The citizens, crazed with fear of Turandot, threaten to stab Calaf unless he tells them his name. Suddenly soldiers enter, dragging Liu and Timur. These two, they say, have been seen with Calaf, and seem to know him. Calaf tries to convince the mob that neither one of them knows his secret.

When Turandot orders Timur to speak, Liu comes forward and says that she alone knows the stranger's identity. Turandot orders soldiers to torture Liu, but she says nothing. Turandot asks Liu what gives her such astonishing strength. "Love," Liu says. Unimpressed, Turandot orders the torture to continue. Afraid that Calaf might intervene to save her, Liu snatches a dagger from one of the soldiers and kills herself, saying that through her sacrifice, Turandot will learn about love's true power. Timur and the crowd follow as her body is carried away. Turandot and Calaf are left alone. Finally, Calaf takes her in his arms, and forces her to kiss him. Until now, Turandot has never experienced true passion, and she weeps. Calaf, confident that he has won her over, reveals his name. As the people sing the praises of the emperor, Turandot approaches his throne, and announces the stranger's identity. His name, she says, is "Love." Web Resources

Question: Which Puccini opera is set in the court of the Chinese emperor?
Answer: Turandot