Gather round, dear readers, for an intriguing story that might just call for a cup of coffee or a bowl of popcorn, depending on your timing and location. I found myself at a modern Chinese opera concert, with a predominantly Chinese audience. Due to an abundance of publicity—some of which was poorly translated—I initially believed I was attending a performance of Puccini’s Turandot at Walt Disney Concert Hall.
Having recently experienced Turandot at LA Opera (three times, in fact) after a 22-year hiatus (during which I also travelled to New York and Santa Fe, and made ample use of Met Opera on Demand and my Blu-ray player), I was excited to discover an announcement online for “Opera Forever! Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of Puccini’s Passing with Turandot in Concert!” The phrasing was theirs, not mine. I researched the cast and bought tickets, only to later uncover that the event would also feature “and premiering for the first time in the US, selections from Chinese modern opera!” Oh dear.
When my companion and I arrived at the Hall (early and hungry), we noticed that the cafe patrons, who had paid a premium for refreshments, were mostly Asian and spoke little English. Nevertheless, the atmosphere was vibrant, with many in elegant attire—bugle beads and silks were in abundance, and the chatter was lively. The audience at LA Opera can vary significantly based on the ethnic background of the music or performers, but this did not faze me.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected when our lavishly illustrated programs were provided first in English and then in Chinese. The first half of the performance featured eleven artists from the China Conservatory of Music, accompanied by their esteemed teacher, Professor and soprano Yanwen Han.
The Dream Orchestra Los Angeles, in collaboration with the Dream Philharmonic Society, is a non-profit arts group that has offered performance opportunities to local graduate students and studio musicians since 2011. Under the direction of Artistic Director and Conductor Daniel Suk, they have been known for their large choral works, such as annual performances of Messiah and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. This was my first encounter with their foray into opera.
I can’t provide much insight into the first half of the program, given that it falls outside my usual repertoire. However, there were some impressive voices and a strong emphasis on formal classical performance and appropriate costumes. Notable performers included soprano Routang Zhao, who sang from an opera based on the Hua Mulan legend, and tenor Xinyu Xie, who performed an aria titled “What place is this?” from Red River Valley. The modern operas featured lush orchestrations and a 19th-century harmonic style that Maestro Suk utilised to its fullest. The lyrics, while poetic, occasionally came across as overly simplistic, a sentiment I attribute to the translations.
Two of the Chinese pieces were supported by the California Philharmonic Art Chorus, an amateur group with nearly forty women and twenty men. The women wore matching deep blue sequined gowns with white sashes. Unfortunately, their ensembles often overshadowed their vocal performance, a trend that persisted throughout the evening.
Consulting my program further, I discovered that the second half featured ‘selections’ (selections?!?) from Puccini’s Turandot. The first part included three arias under the title “Donne di Puccini,” performed by the visiting artists. I’ll gloss over this segment, as it included a Mimi who seemed unfamiliar with the lyrics (and with Italian and English projected titles, this was glaringly evident), a Musetta who was charming but lacked vocal strength (a common issue), and a Tosca who began in Chinese, transitioned to Italian, and concluded in disaster. At this point, I was wide-eyed in my seat, questioning what I had gotten myself into.
Meanwhile, in the balcony just a few feet above us to the left, a group of ladies chatted throughout the first half of the performance. While I am not opposed to a polite ‘Shhh,’ I usually start with a stern look to make the offenders aware of their disruption and disrespect towards the performers. Initially, I attributed their behaviour to possible cultural differences in audience decorum (since many were recording on their phones). However, once we entered the Puccini segment, my more emphatic “Shhh” finally quieted them. Even Miss Manners would have applauded me.
During the break, the Opera Chorus of Los Angeles replaced the previous group, who were moved behind the stage in front of the organ. This new group, also apparently assembled for the occasion, consisted of thirty-five voices, many of whom I recognised from the LA Opera Chorus and Master Chorale, which was a relief. They produced a formidable sound throughout the evening and were magnificent in “Gira la cote,” possibly even better than the performances I had heard at LA Opera (they had ample practice).
How, you might wonder, do you condense Turandot into a half-evening performance? First, you cut out all the music for the three ministers completely (dammit). We then essentially received the opening of Act I up to the moonrise and the boys’ chorus; the double-barreled soprano and tenor arias; and a severely truncated (half) Act I finale. We heard essentially the whole second scene of Act II from Turandot’s entrance onwards. For Act III, there was one verse of the Guards leading up to the Operatic National Anthem, Liu’s two arias and her death, the procession, and the Finale Ultimo, with no final duet. I wasn’t pleased with the cuts, but it worked.
I actually bought my own ticket to this extravaganza, so I’m going to critique it thoroughly—though gently. The cast included Chelsea Lehnea as Turandot and Arnold Livingstone Geis (whose name nearly matches the length of his hair) as Calaf. Soprano Zihan Xiu performed Liu for the remainder of Act I, while Golda Zahra took on the role for the subsequent acts. Gabriel Manro had a few lines as Timur, with Abidel Gonzalez as The Emperor Altoum. Charles Lane, as the Mandarin, was the only cast member who managed to sing his entire role.
I want to clarify that the four leads were performing well beyond their current capabilities. However, everyone has to start somewhere. Having heard singers like Karita Mattila and Sondra Radvanovsky early in their careers (and I could name many more), it’s clear that not everyone could predict the remarkable talents they would later become. Many singers begin with promise but never develop beyond that. The truly wonderful cases are those where early talent evolves into greatness. In opera, particularly, achieving this takes considerable time, experience, and an immense amount of hard work, skill, and luck. Not everyone reaches superstar status, and if that’s your goal, you often need to adjust your expectations.
Mr. Livingstone Geis certainly has the raw talent. He possesses a robust voice with accurate pitch. While he lost some of his vowels at the very top (a common issue), and his face still reddens on high notes, he is young and did a commendable job. I look forward to hearing him again, especially since he enjoyed a strong response from the audience during his aria.
Ms. Xiu faced a challenge with only one showpiece, “Signore, ascolta,” and the remaining part of Act I. Her sound is pleasant, though it tends towards a straight tone. During the two final ascents in her aria, I was concerned as she seemed unsure. Despite this, she managed well, but confidence appeared to be an issue.
The only reason I was aware of this production was due to the massive publicity surrounding Golda Zahra. She was featured prominently in local emails—announcing recitals at my church, performances with the Dream Orchestra at the Broad Stage, and more. Her beautiful website and personal logo added to her visibility. My impression is that she might be too young for this level of performance at Disney Hall. Despite a generally attractive appearance (she was dressed like a princess), her tone is somewhat raw and lacks expansion as it ascends the staff. There’s no natural bloom or ease in her voice, and her dramatic choices could use further development.
Chelsea Lehnea has an impressive resume, which makes me wonder why I hadn’t heard of her sooner. Her recent feature with Will Chrutchfield’s Teatro Nuovo was one of the reasons I decided to attend. I’m always keen on discovering a rising Turandot. Her voice is high and bright, with impeccable breath control and near-faultless support. She navigated “In questa reggia” with confidence, and her pitch was spot-on. Her performance of “Straniero, ascolta!” in a single breath gave a hint of greatness. She managed the three riddles well and even held her own against the orchestra during the two major climaxes at the finale. However, her voice is somewhat small for the role, and she would benefit from a conductor more attuned to her needs to fully succeed in the role.
I must address Ms. Lehnea’s presentation. She made a dramatic entrance in an enormous red silk gown with a high collar and what appeared to be gold boots peeking out. Her close-cropped blonde hair was adorned with a sparkly accessory I couldn’t quite identify. While her look was certainly dramatic—perhaps overly so for this concert—her singing initially outweighed my concerns. For the Act III excerpts, she changed into a very short black dress (almost a bustier) with a sparkling blue floor-length wrap and long butterfly sleeves, revealing the thigh-high gold boots. This change seemed to stir the audience above me into conversation again. If she has any gay friends (and I suspect she does), they might be the ones who inspired Jennifer Coolidge’s character in the finale of The White Lotus.
Photo: Patrick Mack
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