Are we slaves to technology? Blinkered by an alternative reality? Even people glued to their tablets and smartphones may find Franc Aleu’s Turandot visual overload. Aleu is a regular collaborator of the Catalan group La Fura dels Baus, specialising in video projections, and animations play a central role in his staging for Barcelona’s Gran Teatre del Liceu along with 3D projections and motion capture.

The setting is transplanted from fairy-tale China to a futuristic totalitarian society, a space age populated by faceless minions who wear neon-framed virtual reality headsets. A giant half-dome is projected centre stage which twists, displaying vivid animations. When ministers Ping, Pang and Pong recall their homeland, nebulous bubbles form displaying their daydreams. When Liù sings that her heart is breaking, animated tears splash; emotion here is strictly regulated. Robotic arms form a central pillar in this dystopian world. Calaf sees a computer-generated vision of Turandot when he dons a headset himself, in thrall to what he sees. Timur and Liù are outcasts from society by rejecting this technology that venerates love as power.

After Liù is electrocuted, the scales fall from Turandot’s eyes, removing her own headset and handing it to Calaf as his ‘prize’. The chorus remove theirs too – the video game is over – but Calaf remains besotted by his alternative reality. Turandot cradles Liù’s body, having finally discovered what love really means. It’s a powerful metaphor.

I’ve no doubt that in the house, the dizzying visuals must have been overwhelming. On the small screen, the production leaves me cold, the characters even more anonymous than usual in Puccini’s most difficult-to-love opera. Only Ermonela Jaho rises above the frigid staging to present a warm, rounded portrait of Liù, the slave girl who dies rather than reveal Calaf’s name. Jaho is a remarkable actress and her singing is exquisite here, refining her high notes down to a whisper. Some may find her technique too affected, too calculated, but it works for me.

The rest of the cast are under-directed but their vocal performances are strong. Iréne Theorin has power aplenty in the title-role, a soprano that can slice through the heavy textures of Alfano’s ending with room to spare. Jorge de León has a pleasing tone as Calaf, although he has to push his tenor hard to compete with Theorin. His ‘Nessun dorma’ goes well. Alexander Vinogradov’s warm bass is welcome as Timur, although his characterisation is a bit of a cardboard cut-out. The real surprise is hearing veteran Rossini tenor Chris Merritt singing the Emperor Altoum in full chest voice – no weedy character tenor!

Conductor Josep Pons keeps the score moving effectively and the Liceu Chorus provide aural power and lustre, even if they are a static presence in Aleu’s alienating production.