No opera, not even Aida is more grandiose and exotic than Turandot - especially the way Lo King-man has directed his latest production. The grandeur was in the sets, the lighting and the glittering costumes. I cannot imagine a more 'Chinese' Turandot. In his last production, Lo King-man had one scene of swordplay. Here, he managed to encompass Chinese dances (sword, lantern, scarf), Chinese execution, Chinese concubines, even a series of Chinese ghosts. Nor did he stint on the sets. Nothing was stylised or symbolic. Those thrones looked like gold, the pavilions glowed, the pieces of silk floating from the sky were like bolts from the blue, the columns were. . . well, frankly more Egyptian than Chinese. But they sure were colossal. Yes, the exterior settings did the production proud. And while some of Lo King-man's habitual shortcomings were evident, the drama of the opera overcame minor problems. The voices for this most difficult of operas humbled any critic. The thankless role of Turandot - she is the nastiest, iciest heroine in opera - calls for big, punchy, booming singing without any letup. In this, Pamela Kucenic let the heavens roll. All the more pity, then, that her movements were like the vamping temptresses of silent film. Antonio Ordonez had a rich tenor and rich Spanish gestures. One sadly must compare Nessun Dorma to the 'Three Tenors' but Ordonez made it a most dramatic aria. Gail Dobish as Liu, while hardly resembling a slave girl and with a wobbly aria in the first act, was thrilling by the third. The character roles - notably a beneficent Wong Chi-chuen as the Emperor and John Macurdy as Timur - did credit to a production which glowed with opulence, artistry and, at times, most moving drama. Turandot, soloists and Hong Kong Sinfonietta, director Lo King-man, conductor Long Yu. Cultural Centre Grand Theatre. Wednesday