ALMOST an hour to complete a set change? At the Met’s revival of “Turandot” Wednesday, it was worth the wait.
When the curtain finally rose on Act 2 of Puccini’s fairy tale, the audience burst into applause for Franco Zeffirelli’s ornate palace set.
A quarter century ago when this staging was new, the gilded towers and silken costumes seemed garish, as if they belonged in a Szechwan restaurant frequented by Donald Trump. Now, though, the opulent production is a campy reminder of a time before minimalism stripped opera stages bare.
As the noble Prince Calaf — who, smitten by a Chinese princess, must answer three riddles to wed her, or lose his head — tenor Marco Berti was built like an ox with a voice to match. His arias throbbed with a firm legato, and his trumpeting high C’s left ears buzzing.
Matching his decibels if not his consistency was Maria Guleghina in the treacherously high role of Princess Turandot. More than 20 years of belting out opera’s toughest roles has left her soprano a patchwork of radiant top notes and a tremulous middle register.
Unlike Berti, though, she’s an enthusiastic actor, conjuring a complex character from the glamorous cipher indicated in Puccini’s score.
This mighty duo overshadowed the rest of the cast, particularly Hibla Gerzmava, who brought a sleek, silvery soprano but not much feeling to the role of the self-sacrificing slave Liu.
Two Met veterans fared better: Bass James Morris was in firm, dignified form as Calaf’s father, Timur, and baritone Dwayne Croft sounded nimble and fresh as the wily courtier Ping.
In the cameo part of the Mandarin, Ryan Speedo Green made a promising debut. The youthful bass-baritone — who was less than a year old when this production premiered in 1987 — boasted a full, smoky voice and towering stage presence.
Rivaling Zeffirelli’s visuals for splendor was the conducting of Dan Ettinger, who drew stately tempos and rich but transparent color from the Met orchestra.
The platinum-maned maestro was also alert to make adjustments on the fly when Guleghina’s faltering voice cut a few phrases short.
High art this “Turandot” is not. But opera doesn’t get any grander.