There are dates that the history of opera does not forget. On April 25, 1926, the Teatro alla Scala in Milan witnessed the premiere of Turandot, the last and most ambitious work of Giacomo Puccini, who had died without finishing it eighteen months earlier. Arturo Toscanini conducted that memorable night and, according to legend, stopped his baton at the exact point where the Tuscan maestro’s pen had been silenced forever, upon the death of Liù. One hundred years later, Buenos Aires is preparing to celebrate that anniversary with a production that, to the symbolic weight of the date, adds an unprecedented event in the history of the lyrical genre.
On June 26 and 27, and on July 4, the Teatro Avenida —that Buenos Aires temple of opera on Avenida de Mayo— will receive a new production of Turandot produced by Clásica del Sur and Sol Producciones, with stage direction by Gabriel Villalba and musical direction by César Tello leading the choir, soloists and orchestra. The central event of this production is the participation of María Castillo de Lima in the leading role, becoming the first trans soprano in history to play Princess Turandot in a professional lyrical production. It is not a minor or accessory fact: it is the transformative core of a proposal that dialogues with the present without betraying the greatness of the original.
Turandot represents, technically, one of the most demanding roles written for dramatic soprano voice. Puccini’s vocal writing in this work is relentless: it demands projection of steel in the high register, resistance in phrases of enormous expressive tension and a stage presence that sustains the weight of a figure that terrifies, subjugates and, finally, surrenders to love. That María Castillo de Lima has reached this role speaks not only of her vocal and artistic abilities, but of the place she conquered in the lyrical world with work, talent and a career that today reaches its highest point. His Turandot is not just an interpretation: it is a statement of possibility.
The work itself offers an extraordinary rereading when viewed from this perspective. The story of a woman who built her strength as a shell in the face of trauma and fear—the memory of her ancestor Lou-Ling, violated and murdered—and who must deconstruct that armor to find her own humanity, acquires a new resonance when the person who embodies it knows first-hand the weight of the identities that the world questions. Puccini’s last work, which was born unfinished, finds in this production an unexpected and profound completeness.
The cast that accompanies her does not detract from the occasion. Fabricio Gori and Martín Fernández alternate in the role of Calaf, the prince who dares to defy destiny and whose voice must raise the Nessun Dorma—perhaps the most recognized aria in all of operatic history—with the conviction of someone who believes in love over death. Eugenia Coronel Bugnon takes on the delicate and heartbreaking Liù, that character that Puccini endowed with a tenderness and tragedy that in many ways eclipse the rest of the drama. Bruno Santoro Sciaini and Franco Gómez Acuña share the role of Timur, the blind and dethroned king, while the comic trio of Ping, Pang and Pong—that philosophical and burlesque counterweight that the play needs as breathing—will be led by Miguel Balea, Jerónimo Vargas Gómez, Marcelo Reynes and Mauro Luna.
Gabriel Villalba’s staging promises that difficult balance that every opera stage director pursues: respecting the monumentality of the original without petrifying it, allowing the work to speak to today’s spectator without imposing readings that force it. Turandot, set in a legendary and timeless China, is a work that always contained more questions than answers: what is love when it faces pride? Can pain be transformed into openness? Does art have the power to redefine identity?
This production answers the last question affirmatively with every performance. Buenos Aires, the city that received Turandot for the first time on June 25, 1926, has a unique opportunity: to witness, in the year of its centenary, a version that honors tradition and at the same time expands it. Tickets are available through Ticketek. Nessun dorma—let no one sleep—said Calaf in his immortal aria. No music lover should miss this night.
by RN
