In 1926, two years after the death of renowned composer Giacomo Puccini, his final opera Turandot, made its stage debut. Now, a hundred years later, Opera Australia, in association with Sydney Festival, has brought this powerful story to the Opera House stage.
This production stands as a testament to love, its sacrifices, complexity and uncertainties, brought to life by a visionary creative team and powerful ensemble of performers.
Turandot is a beautifully poignant tale set in ancient China. The titular character, Princess Turandot, is renowned for her icy and bloodthirsty demeanour, murdering potential suitors who are unable to answer her three riddles.
As the story unfurls, the prince Calàf, transfixed by her beauty, steps forward to take on the challenge. In doing so, he sets in motion a series of heart-wrenching events, all driven by the all-consuming and overwhelming power of love in its many forms.
If you are new to the opera, as I was when seeing this show, a couple of things to note. This opera is sung entirely in Italian, with screens adjacent to the stage providing surtitles (the live performance equivalent of subtitles), in both English and simplified Chinese to help follow the story.
The program provides a synopsis of the plot, which I recommend reading, so you can fully immerse yourself in the performance. Act I and Act II are presented together before the interval, with Act III presented afterwards.
Director and choreographer Ann Yee has reimagined this historic text extraordinarily. From the moment the music starts to the final curtain fall, the performance is visually stunning. Her deep commitment to the nuances of the story as an allegory for isolation, the deep effects of intergenerational trauma and the awesome power of love resonates in every scene.
Set designer Elizabeth Gadsby has created a staging masterpiece. The rotating stage acts as a powerful focal point, highlighting the dynamics between characters alone on stage.
Awe-inspiring set pieces seem to fade in and out of the background seamlessly, creating beautiful pockets of space for performers to inhabit. The projection of Turandot’s avatar, created by Collider, haunts the stage through the first acts with a precision and porcelain artistry that is both beautiful and terrifying.
David Fleischer has created a beautiful palette in his costume design, with gorgeous use of contrast in style, colour and texture. I loved the use of ombre colouration and contrasting cold and warm hues to represent the different connections and strengths of characters.
The music sweeps you away into this mythical world and truly holds you in its power throughout the performance. Conductor Henrik Nánási leads the phenomenally talented orchestra through the music deftly. Vocally, the beautiful harmonies of the ensemble complement the incredible strength and artistry of the leads.
Stories told without dialogue, such as in opera and ballet, share a reliance on the strength of the performer to convey their character’s journey through physicality, emotion and voice. The cast of Turandot clearly possesses this strength in abundance. Every emotional beat is clearly and powerfully revealed.
In this production, Ann Yee chose to physically represent Turandot’s ancestor, Lou-Ling. Featured dancer Hoyori Maruo impeccably embodies her power in both life and death through her movement. Maruo endows a character who usually doesn’t appear on stage with depth and purpose.
Rebecca Nash portrays the titular role of Turandot with an awe-inspiring performance. We see and feel her deep commitment to her history and her struggle to reconcile the pain and love she experiences through her soaring vocals and emotive physicality.
As a character, the Prince Calàf’s single-minded recklessness is distasteful, but it is perfectly portrayed with strength and passion by Young Woo Kim. His vocals portray a beautiful blend of desperation and desire. and his performance of the iconic aria Nessun Dorma in Act III is breathtaking.
Maria Teresa Leva portrays the role of Liù, the only remaining servant of Calàf’s father, Timur, the banished King of the Tartars. She beautifully holds the role of the moral and emotional compass within the story, embodying the strength of her love in her quiet compassion and commitment.
Timur is portrayed by Richard Anderson, and his desperate love for his son and Liù is palpable in every scene. Anderson and Leva deliver vocal and emotional performances that contrast stunningly with Calàf’s brashness while revealing the same magnitude of devotion.
Turandot’s advisors, titled as P1, P2 and P3, lend an amazing comedic element to the tale as they desperately try to convince Calàf to abandon his endeavour. Luke Gabbedy, John Longmuir and Michael Petruccelli portray the three roles respectively with a witty lightness that is so enjoyable to watch. Their delivery of Ho una casa nell’Honan, in which they reminisce about their quiet lives away from the city, is absolutely beautiful.
Shane Lowrencev as the Speaker and Gregory Brown as the Emperor deliver powerful vocal performances that tap into both the detached cruelty of this reality and the desperation to break the cycle, respectively.
The ensembles of the show, comprised of the Opera Australia Chorus, Children’s Chorus and Dancers, vocally and visually enrich the story. Their quiet reverence as they oversee proceedings or physical desperation as they try to fight for and against their princess is tremendously powerful.
A visual masterpiece, vocal triumph and beautiful celebration of the extraordinary talent of the Opera Australia community, Turandot is an incredible night out at the Sydney Opera House for both Opera devotees and newcomers alike.
Turandot is presented by Opera Australia and the Opera Conference. It runs to 27 March at the Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House as part of 2026 Sydney Festival.
Tickets: https://opera.org.au/productions/turandot-sydney/
Website: https://www.sydneyfestival.org.au/events/turandot
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/sydney_festival/ and https://www.instagram.com/operaaustralia/
Photo credits: Keith Saunders
