In the Met performance, the most competent of the principals was Yusif Eyzavov, the Calaf. He sang with reasonable clarity and steadiness, with a tone that was narrow in span but attractive in a sort of generic tenorial way. While it’s not a large voice, it remains audible except under the the assault of massed forces. The climactic A of the gong stroke was choked; he held on at length notwithstanding. The B of “Nessun dorma” was less constricted, also hyperextended; it did not crack, but did not develop, either. He was showered with popera screams. The Turandot, Christine Goerke, was in deplorable vocal estate. The tremulousness that afflicted just one or two half-steps in the upper-middle range when she sang her commendable Färberin a few seasons back, and which had spread to a wide stretch of the compass with the more recent Siegfried Brünnhilde till she managed to steady it late in the scene, now afflicted almost every note to which any pressure was applied, and her intonation was often approximate when not definitively off-track. She does not offer much compensation by way of visual engagement, maneuverability, or stage command. I wondered if Michelle Bradley, the Liù, might be indisposed. “Signore, ascolta” sounded as if she were marking, and a couple of pitches went awry. In “Tu che di gel” she pulled things together a little better, but the effect was still pale.

The three masques provided pleasure, coming closer than the principals to matching the requirements of their roles. Still, with apologies for again evoking a standard: the Ping of the premiere was Giacomo Rimini, Raisa’s husband, who sang leading baritone roles in Italy and Chicago for many years, and took the title part on the first complete recording of Falstaff. In the first Met production, Giuseppe de Luca (!) took it on, and then Mario Basiola (!). Frank Guarrera sang it back in ’61, and on many subsequent occasions. There was nothing seriously wrong with what Alexey Lavrov did with it, but the role should have more prominence. Alexander Tsymbalyuk, with a voice of pleasing and appropriate quality and sufficient amplitude, made a much better impression than he did as the Meistersinger Nightwatchman. I’ve heard Marco Armiliato do well with some of the Italian repertory operas (e. g., a quite lively, crisp Trovatore), but this did not hang together very well. The episodes didn’t  seem to have much definition or to shape into a true continuity. As so often now, I had a sense that there was a holding back for the singers’ sake that made for tentativeness. The chorus sang well from a purely musical standpoint, but without a great deal of dramatic point.

The production is another instance of Zeffirelli the designer swamping Zeffirelli the director, and the latter responding by piling on. Everything and everyone pulls focus from everything and everyone else; there’s no clarity amid the clutter, and since the principals cannot assert themselves vocally, there’s never a highlighting of the event of the moment for either eye or ear. If we want Turandot back, it needs a lot more help in both performance and production. There’s another run of it in the spring, when Anna Netrebko will at least upgrade the visuals, and Yonghoon Lee might bring more zing to Calaf. Providing, of course, that conditions allow.