I'm not actually sure how old Turandot is. I remember hearing somewhere, from a source of dubious reliability, that she's supposed to be a child bride, but there's only so young I can reasonably see her as being. Your answer strikes me as one of the more likely, though I think she could be on the older end -- once you create that sort of vision for yourself and the world, and act it out for a few years, I imagine it becomes harder and harder to drop even if deep down you want to. I see her as at this point possibly having a terror of having her foundations shaken that is even stronger than her reservations about men and sex -- which, whatever her original feelings, have remained a scary taboo because, well, they're a scary taboo and such things can be self-sustaining if you believe in them hard enough for long enough. I wonder if, when she tells her story abou the murdered empress, she really has the full conviction of the words -- after all, she's been telling it a LOT, and over the course of her growing up by three years. It would be interesting to see a performance in which her recitation is a bit formal and perfunctory until she catches Calaf's gaze and throws more energy into the telling as she projects onto him. (I also find it interesting that everyone else who voices an opinion also envisions her marriage as her husband stomping on her, with the exception of Calaf and probably her father. She seems really genuinely surprised to find out that there are other options.)
She needs to keep being who she is BECAUSE it is who she is -- never mind why -- and her panic increases as she realizes both her vulnerability to Calaf and how unsatisfying it will be if she wins this one. But she can't drop her role, and without Calaf essentially forcing her to, I don't believe she ever would have -- she would have seen the only person who was intelligent and interesting enough to catch her attention off to the executioner and then lived miserably ever after. And I think she knows it and isn't all that happy about it. "E t'ho odiato per quella! E per quella t'ho amato! Tormentata e divisa fra due terrori uguali: vincerti o esser vinta." She wants him to win -- there's got to be something incredibly attractive, in an infuriating way, about someone as smart as she is that she can't scare -- and the more she wants it, the harder she has to fight him. I think that's also why she's so harsh with Liù -- the only specific non-suitor we see her go after -- and threatens death to the whole city if she can't find out Calaf's name. She's increasingly in a state of barely (if that) suppressed panic. She's WAY more threatened by Liù's description of love as something positive than she is even by the sheer threat of marriage -- what if she's been wrong? And can't let herself stop? This is also why she's so mollified and satisfied when Calaf hands her back her dignity and gives her the power to beat his riddle if she wishes -- it's about much more than bringing her to terms with sexual attraction; it's about showing and giving her another version of herself that she can be and be happy with. She realizes she doesn't have to be the victim of her own construction; she doesn't have to kill him to win.
I'm not sure I've ever heard a version I found satisfying with respect to the interpretation of Turandot. It would be an interesting role to try, if I had anything in the same geological strata of the necessary voice part.
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She needs to keep being who she is BECAUSE it is who she is -- never mind why -- and her panic increases as she realizes both her vulnerability to Calaf and how unsatisfying it will be if she wins this one. But she can't drop her role, and without Calaf essentially forcing her to, I don't believe she ever would have -- she would have seen the only person who was intelligent and interesting enough to catch her attention off to the executioner and then lived miserably ever after. And I think she knows it and isn't all that happy about it. "E t'ho odiato per quella! E per quella t'ho amato! Tormentata e divisa fra due terrori uguali: vincerti o esser vinta." She wants him to win -- there's got to be something incredibly attractive, in an infuriating way, about someone as smart as she is that she can't scare -- and the more she wants it, the harder she has to fight him. I think that's also why she's so harsh with Liù -- the only specific non-suitor we see her go after -- and threatens death to the whole city if she can't find out Calaf's name. She's increasingly in a state of barely (if that) suppressed panic. She's WAY more threatened by Liù's description of love as something positive than she is even by the sheer threat of marriage -- what if she's been wrong? And can't let herself stop? This is also why she's so mollified and satisfied when Calaf hands her back her dignity and gives her the power to beat his riddle if she wishes -- it's about much more than bringing her to terms with sexual attraction; it's about showing and giving her another version of herself that she can be and be happy with. She realizes she doesn't have to be the victim of her own construction; she doesn't have to kill him to win.
I'm not sure I've ever heard a version I found satisfying with respect to the interpretation of Turandot. It would be an interesting role to try, if I had anything in the same geological strata of the necessary voice part.