The Magic Flute was written specifically for the Freihaus Theater auf der Wieden. As such, it is useful to consider the physical aspects and the history of the building as well as some of the other repertory that was performed there around the same time. When we include works that were performed in the Theater in der Leopoldstadt under the direction of Karl Marinelli – Schikaneder’s main rival – we can see that they share some musical and theatrical aspects of The Magic Flute. Plot lines or character types that found favor with audiences were reproduced in various works at both suburban theaters, allowing a faster creative process and resulting in a somewhat formulaic product. This adds to the notion that while The Magic Flute is certainly an exceptional work, it was, nevertheless, significantly influenced by the popular entertainment common in Viennese theaters of the eighteenth century.

This chapter considers recent trends in Puccini staging and direction. It notes that Puccini productions have tended to be ‘safe’ compared with the works of composers such as Wagner, inviting audiences to sit back and enjoy rather than sit back and pay attention: Regieoper has tended to avoid Puccini. Recently, however, Puccini’s operas have been subjected to some more unusual and innovative directorial treatment, in productions that are designed to speak to an audience viewing in cinemas and at home as much as in the theatre. Three productions are discussed as case studies. The first is Richard Jones’s 2007 Covent Garden production of Gianni Schicchi, situated in a kitschily decorated mid-twentieth-century British working-class home. The second is Stefan Herheim’s bleak, resolutely unsentimental 2012 La bohème for the Norwegian National Opera, which flips between a contemporary cancer ward and flashbacks using nineteenth-century-style sets long used at the same theatre. The third is Christophe Honoré’s 2019 production of Tosca for Aix-en-Provence, which also intermingles past and present productions, making intertextual reference to the opera’s earlier performance history.

This chapter discusses the singers who first performed Puccini’s operatic roles, or who were well-known interpreters of them in revivals during his lifetime. Singers discussed include Cesira Ferrani, Rosina Storchio, Giovanni Zenatello, Eugenio Giraldoni, Florence Easton, Giuseppe Cremoni, Evan Gorga, Emilio de Marchi, Giuseppe de Luca, Miguel Fleta, Tito Schipa, Geraldine Farrar, Emmy Destinn, Enrico Caruso, and Rosa Raisa. The author notes that by Puccini’s time, singers had far less agency in creating roles than their predecessors from the early nineteenth-century had had. Nevertheless, Puccini had a clear sense of the type of singer he wanted for a particular role. The author reveals that the singers who took on Puccini’s roles had extensive repertoires and were comfortable interpreting the music of a wide range of composers. Many were also to be found working across continents, travelling between opera houses on either side of the Atlantic and enjoying a degree of celebrity and renown previously unknown, partly because of opportunities in recording and film.

This chapter examines the topic of Puccini on video – the composer’s appearances as a character in narrative films or television dramas, and versions of his operas conceived expressly for film or television, starting from the arrival of sound cinema. Puccini started being fictionalised as a film character from the 1950s. Detailed attention is paid to Carmine Gallone’s biopic Giacomo Puccini of 1952, a film which takes considerable liberties with historical facts, and the same director’s Casa Ricordi, about the composer’s publishing house. The discussion then moves to the 1980s, to consider Tony Palmer’s Puccini, and to the 2000s, to discuss Paolo Benvenuti’s Puccini e la fanciulla, both of which home in on the Doria Manfredi scandal. The author then discusses transferrals to video of Puccini’s operas, concentrating particularly on Tosca and examining films from the 1940s onwards. Particular attention is paid to a filmed version by Gallone, to the same director’s Avanti a lui tremava tutta Roma, and to a series of slightly later film versions made especially for Italian television during the 1960s and 70s. A 2001 film of Tosca by Benoît Jacquot concludes the survey, chosen because it interrogates the tension between televisual or filmic authenticity and operatic artificiality.

This chapter is the first of three to consider Puccini’s travels, both for work and leisure. It covers his travels in western Europe, particularly in France and Great Britain, assessing the importance of Paris and London as key centres for the performance of Puccini’s works. Both cities had had long and vibrant traditions of importing musical works from other European countries; Paris also had a flourishing operatic culture of its own. Puccini visited both cities regularly from the mid-1890s, often to supervise the production of his works. London became particularly important for Puccini when Manon Lescaut was launched at Covent Garden in 1894; a few years later he would visit Manchester for the British premiere of La bohème. Visiting Paris for business allowed Puccini the opportunity to hear new works by other leading European composers of the day, including Debussy and Stravinsky. It was also a place of refuge for him at a time of personal crisis. The chapter records Puccini’s thoughts about these and other European cities, not all of which were flattering. It concludes with a discussion of his death in Brussels in 1924.

This chapter considers Puccini’s interest in technology of various types. It examines, first, his passion for speed, encapsulated in an early enthusiasm for motoring. The author discusses the models of car owned by Puccini as well as his various motorboats. Puccini’s enthusiasm for hunting is discussed from a technological perspective. The chapter considers how technology even had an impact upon Puccini’s compositional output, discussing various attempts the composer made to harness electricity for musical purposes, even attempting to invent new instruments to make particular sonic effects. The gramophone played a vital role in disseminating Puccini’s works, though his enthusiasm for the medium of recording was tempered by the difficulties he experienced in recouping royalties. Finally, embryonic radio technology was a source of fascination to the composer.

This chapter surveys the interaction between Puccini’s works and various forms of popular culture since the mid-twentieth century. The author examines how Puccini’s music quickly came to be widely absorbed into the popular musical memory through a wide variety of genres. It surveys early recordings of Puccini’s arias and their association with particular recording stars such as Caruso. A discussion of the use of Puccini’s music in films from the 1930s to the present follows, analysing the ways in which it has been employed as a device in films ranging from gentle romances to violent Hollywood blockbusters, sometimes symbolising the essence of Italianness. The author then discusses how excerpts from Puccini’s music have been incorporated into popular songs of a wide range of types and how Puccini arias have made their way into the world of popular television via talent shows, sports programming (notably the use of ‘Nessun dorma’ for the Italia 90 World Cup), chat shows, and advertising.

This chapter considers important female figures in Puccini’s circle. It begins by outlining Puccini’s relationship with his mother, Albina, who died relatively early in the composer’s life, and with his six sisters. The author then discusses Puccini’s relationship with his wife, Elvira, in some detail, considering the circumstances in which the couple met and their subsequent rather strained relationship. Puccini’s affairs with other women are considered, and particular attention is paid to the Doria Manfredi scandal, when a young woman wrongly accused of an affair with the composer committed suicide. The author discusses Puccini’s step-daughter and granddaughter, Simonetta. She also considers his platonic relationships with female friends, most importantly Sybil Seligman.

This chapter considers Puccini’s relationship with his native region, Tuscany. It begins with a discussion of how Florence is represented in the comic opera Gianni Schicchi, asking how realistic the depiction of the city is. The author provides a political and social history of the region, starting with the glorious reign of the Medicis and moving on through the Habsburg era to the politics of Puccini’s own time. The chapter discusses agricultural policies in the region, industrial expansion, the emergence of the modern labour movement, uprisings and unrest, and fascist suppression, showing that the Tuscany of Puccini’s time was not the rural idyll depicted in Gianni Schicchi. The chapter also considers the region’s rich artistic culture and the importance of Florence as an intellectual and literary centre.

This chapter considers the ways in which Puccini’s works were staged during his lifetime, with a close focus upon the composer’s own vision of how his operas should look. Puccini was keenly involved with the visual representation of his works on stage and always strove to be as ‘authentic’ as possible in reproducing the locales being depicted. This chapter draws upon the composer’s correspondence to demonstrate how proactive Puccini was in every aspect of the performance of his works. We find Puccini complaining about stage designs for his works and suggesting improvements, as well as suggesting novel scenographic approaches to make a work more effective for the viewer. Puccini was also extremely keen to maintain aspects of staging and direction used in some of the source plays upon which his operas had been based. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the various extant sources that document Puccini’s staging intentions.

This chapter discusses the singers who have performed and recorded Puccini’s works since the mid-twentieth century. The author analyses changing trends in Puccini performance, particularly in terms of the sorts of voices that were considered most suitable for singing this repertory in audio recordings. The chapter begins with a discussion of the rivalry between Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi, two sopranos who took quite different approaches to the performance of Puccini’s female roles. Mirella Freni and Tebaldi took a more lyrical approach than their immediate predecessors. By the 1960s and 70s – the era of the long-playing record – a new breed of international sopranos and tenors with opulent voices was emerging, including Montserrat Caballé, Luciano Pavarotti, and Placido Domingo. The 1970s and 80s was the era of the big-budget studio recording, featuring starry conductors and casts and the world’s greatest orchestras. The 1990s saw a drop-off in recordings by major labels, yet a new generation of bankable stars was emerging, including Roberto Alagna, Angela Gheorghiu, and (in the 2000s) Jonas Kaufmann. The chapter concludes with a discussion of a recent turn towards lighter voices tackling this repertory, epitomised by the success of the compelling Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho, who brings into question the idea of what an ‘authentic’ Puccini singer might be.