Quotes of the Day

Here's a quick sports quiz: who won the 1990 soccer World Cup? Germany, of course. But just as easy for soccer fans is this one: Which tune did Luciano Pavarotti get everyone humming? The answer is Nessun Dorma, the big third-act aria of Giacomo Puccini's Turandot, which loudly reappears as the opera's finale. Yet Puccini didn't actually compose this ending — and he may not have wanted it.

Puccini died in 1924 before completing Turandot, and the score was finished by his student Franco Alfano in 1926. Even though Puccini had left notes for the final scenes, Alfano did his own thing — and his ending has been performed ever since. But the story is not over yet: Luciano Berio, one of Italy's leading composers, has come up with his own, very different ending. Berio's version has been sanctioned by the Puccini estate, and after trial runs in the Canary Islands, Amsterdam and Los Angeles, it was performed this month at the Salzburg Festival.

Critics and opera buffs alike have long been dissatisfied with Alfano's take. Turandot is a savage Oriental fairy-tale, in which the princess of the title poses riddles to her suitors. The stakes are high: her hand in marriage, or their heads on platters. When Prince Calaf eventually triumphs by correctly answering three riddles, Turandot — who, says the disguised Calaf, can still have his head if she discovers his name — tortures the prince's loving servant-girl Liu, who then kills herself rather than betray him. Liu dies, and before bringing the story to a close Puccini died too. Step forward Alfano, who shifts the focus back to Calaf with a blast of trumpets as the young prince wins Turandot's heart with a knock-'em-dead kiss. This finale makes Berio's blood boil. "Liu is so important you can't ignore her," he says. "But Alfano just turns back to Calaf and his perpetual erection!"

Berio's treatment changes the whole nature of the opera. Alfano makes Turandot almost seem a blockbuster musical, with his bombastic sing-along finale. Berio opts for something quieter and more unsettling, which David Pountney's spectacular Salzburg production emphasizes by setting the story in a factory that seems to produce nothing but dead bodies. After Liu's demise, the strings take the audience into uncomfortable harmonies, while a trembling glockenspiel and ominous drums mourn and warn of death. When trumpets blare, it's not with Alfano's triumphalism, but with violence — reminding us that Turandot's ancestor was raped, hence her vicious revenge on men. Berio scrapes away at the lushness of Puccini's melodies, leaving instruments exposed. The mood is of suspense and danger.

Berio clearly felt the need for a new ending, but does the opera industry feel the same need? James Jolly, editor of Gramophone magazine, is not so sure. "Dedicated opera fans will want to hear it," he says. "But if one looks at the hold Turandot has already got in the staple repertoire, it doesn't require anything." Jolly thinks Berio's variation will need the patronage of star conductors if it is to stand a chance of longevity. "If they support it," he says, "it could spread like wildfire."

So far, three major conductors have tackled it — Riccardo Chailly in the Canary Islands and Amsterdam, Kent Nagano in Los Angeles and now Valery Gergiev in Salzburg. "I absolutely endorse it," enthuses Gergiev. "It is wonderful to have an ending that is musically and dramatically so interesting." The Russian maestro, who says he will still conduct the Alfano from time to time, insists there won't be an operatic war between the two versions. "They will live side by side," he suggests. "It will depend on what kind of Turandot companies want." Berio's finale ends on a sustained, hushed chord. The longer it lasts, the more tremulous it sounds. After all, how long can this couple stay together? And, Berio seems to ask, if violence stains everything we do, how long do we ourselves have?

• JAMES INVERNE/Salzburg
• A new ending for Puccini's Turandot