No Sleep Until Dawn with Puccini's Nessun dorma
The Backstory
Nessun dorma, from Turandot, SC 91
I'm Giacomo Puccini, and this is the backstory of my Nessun dorma. You'll learn how this aria came out of an opera I left unfinished when I died in 1924, and how it still became a favorite far beyond the opera house. Why not take a turn at the Trainer , where my fellow composers and I teach you to recognize our pieces as soon as they start playing?
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A Princess, a Play and a Very Old Story
I didn't invent the tale behind Turandot out of thin air. It comes from Carlo Gozzi's play of 1762, which borrowed from an older story by François Pétis de la Croix. Schiller adapted it again in 1801, and that version is the one that caught my imagination. So by the time Calaf opens his mouth to sing, he already has a few centuries of stage history behind him.Starting the Music Before the Words Were Ready
I began work on Turandot in March 1920, and I started composing in January 1921. The libretto wasn't even finished then, which is a bit like laying the bricks while the architect is still drawing the house. Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simoni wrote the words, and they were the ones who gave Calaf his famous text. I was impatient, and I trusted the music to find its way.Three Words That Make an Entire Aria
The title, Nessun dorma, is Italian for "Let no one sleep." It comes straight from the princess's decree, so it's really an order that Calaf turns into a song. He doesn't sound worried about it at all, though. He sings as someone who knows that, by morning, the one thing nobody can find out is the thing he's keeping to himself.The Tenor's Quiet Confidence
I wrote the aria in G major, and it lasts only about three or four minutes. That's a very short time to take a listener from hushed whispering to something close to a shout of joy. The tune is simple enough to hum after one hearing, and I took great care to keep it that way. A melody that people can carry away with them is worth more to me than any clever trick.The Pen I Had to Put Down
By March 1924 I had finished the score up to the final duet. Then, in October of that year, I was diagnosed with throat cancer. I died on 29 November 1924, and Turandot was still unfinished. I'm sorry to say that the opera's happy ending never got written by me.The Night the Music Simply Stopped
Turandot had its first performance on 25 April 1926 at La Scala in Milan, with Arturo Toscanini conducting. Rosa Raisa sang the princess, and Miguel Fleta sang Calaf. The story goes that Toscanini stopped the music at the point where I had laid down my pen, and that the opera ended there that evening. Accounts differ about the exact words he said to the audience, so I'll leave that as a small mystery.A Friend Finishes the Job
Franco Alfano completed the opera from my sketches. His ending brings the Nessun dorma tune back in a big, triumphant return. Whether I would have planned it exactly that way, nobody can say for certain. I'm grateful all the same that the tune gets a second chance to be heard.The Famous Note That I Never Wrote Long
The closing "Vincerò!" climbs to a B and then settles on a longer A. In my score the B is a quick sixteenth note, and the A is a whole note. I never actually asked for either one to be held, so those long, glorious pauses are a tradition that singers have added over time. I can't complain, because the audience seems to enjoy every second of them.How a Football Match Made Me Famous
I certainly didn't write this aria for a football tournament, since it belongs to an opera from the 1920s. But Luciano Pavarotti's 1972 recording became the theme of the BBC's coverage of the 1990 World Cup in Italy, and it reached No. 2 on the UK Singles Chart. On the eve of that final, Pavarotti sang it in Rome at the first Three Tenors concert. The Three Tenors came back to it at the World Cup Finals of 1994, 1998 and 2002.Still Turning Up Everywhere
The aria has found its way into films, including The Killing Fields in 1984, Bend It Like Beckham in 2002 and Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation in 2015. Pavarotti also performed it at the opening ceremony of the 2006 Winter Olympics. It was revealed later that he had lip-synced because of the cold, which is a fair reason, since even a great tenor's voice doesn't like frost. I find it wonderful that a song written for one prince in one imaginary garden now belongs to so many people.---
So that's how a very old story, a half-finished libretto and one quiet night in a garden came together in Nessun dorma. I left Turandot unfinished when I died in 1924, and it still moves me that the aria went on to live such a full life without me. Franco Alfano completed the opera, and in his ending the melody comes back one last time in triumph. Whether I would have brought it back myself is something nobody can say for certain. Did you enjoy learning about the backstory of Nessun dorma? I hope it gave you a new way to listen, and that the next time Calaf sings, you hear the long road behind him. There's still plenty more to discover about this aria. You could follow it from the opera house to the football stadium, and on into films you may already know. You could also look at the famous closing notes and find out what I actually wrote and what performers added later. If any of that tempts you, please click on the links provided and keep exploring Nessun dorma. I'd be glad to have you listening a little longer.