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The Greatest of Them All Submitted by Daniel Walden on Sat, 2007-03-24 02:08.
"Don't talk to me about rules, dear. Wherever I go I make the damn rules." Much has been written about the great Mario Lanza, and I feel that a piece is long overdue about the woman who was his counterpart in some ways, and was so much more than that in others. That woman is Maria Callas, the greatest diva of the twentieth century and, perhaps, of all time. Ah, that voice...how to describe it? Many of the recordings of her are post 1960, which is quite unfortunate, because that was when her vocal deterioration became seriously problematic. But before then...my God, that voice was a hurricane. It was more like a force of nature than anything that could originate from a human body. When she topped out an aria with a high E, it was like a bomb had been dropped inside the theater. And with all that power came unrivaled agility and flexibility. She handled the demanding trills and ornamentations of bel canto opera with ease and grace, and kept that enormous sound throughout her entire range. It had its flaws, but the sound was beautiful and, when coupled with Callas's amazing sense of character and drama, it was a nigh-perfect operatic instrument. Callas was not just a voice. She had an intimate familiarity with her roles that most opera stars can only dream of. Callas did not portray characters; she became them. The sparse video footage that we have of her shows a woman who has us utterly convinced the moment we see her. There is no "grace period," no awkward few minutes before she and the audience reach an understanding. There is simply the overwhelming sense of her presence, and the feeling that one has no choice but to totally surrender to the drama she presents to us. There is nothing about her that is either half-assed or unessential. If you don't weep when her Tosca asks "Why, oh God?!" then I don't know what to say to you. But perhaps the most enthralling aspect of Callas is the sheer, single-minded devotion she gave to her art. Clearly, she was utterly in love with what she did, and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought as long as she could continue doing it. She once said that "When my enemies stop hissing, I shall know I am slipping." Those who knew her, such as Met conductor Sir Rudolf Bing, often commented on her constant evaluations and revisions of her performances. Even for those roles in which she had become a living legend, she constantly strove for better, more emotionally real performances. Her attitude is perhaps best described by this direct quotation: "My poor sight gives me an advantage. I can't see the people in the audience who are scratching their heads while I am lost in my role and giving everything I have to the drama." Callas's enduring legacy is felt even to this day. To contemporary sopranos who sing the roles for which she was famous, she is more like a goddess than a predecessor. She showed the world that bel canto opera can be done with authentic drama, that verismo opera need not have any element of insincerity, and that even grand opera is, at its heart, about human beings. She gave the world something priceless, and she continues to give us that even after her death. She truly was, and always will be, La Divina.
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Daniel
The reason I say that Callas was in some ways more than Lanza was precisely because of his crossover work. He was descending into music that simply didn't have enough room for his passion and his powers of expression.
Heck! I couldn't live without Mario's crossover stuff. The best of it, anyway. the Cavalcade of Show Tunes album with Henri Rene, for instance, where he is indeed bursting out of his skin. But he lifts the music with him. Or the incomparable Student Prince soundtrack. Ecstasy set to music. Or stand-alone love ballads like Because, For You Alone, The Song Angels Sing ... and on and on. A Porter tune like Begin the Beguine that would leave crappy old nothings like Sinatra in the shade.
Not forgetting the exquisite Neapolitian songs on one of his last albums, where his interpretive skills owe nothing to anyone. Point is, only Mario could cross over into that territory not merely convincingly, but gloriously. I thank Galt every day that Mario didn't confine himself to the cloisters of opera.
Not enough room for his passion and powers of expression? Ha! He made room!
Linz
Mario and Maria
Had that concert taken place, Ayn Rand might have chosen to write a final novel about an opera singer
The reason I say that Callas was in some ways more than Lanza was precisely because of his crossover work. He was descending into music that simply didn't have enough room for his passion and his powers of expression. Callas, working in the world of opera, realized that there was so much to be done that hadn't been done before and that perhaps not even she could do it all. But she did open the eyes of everyone who saw her, so that perhaps they might go through the doors that she had opened.
They did, however, share the same sort of genius. Each possessed one of the finest instruments that has ever been seen in a human being, and each was profoundly emotional. And each used their matchless instrument to send that emotion out into the world. In a lot of ways, I look at Maria as a female version of what Mario could have been. Obviously, she studied a great deal more than he did and gained a great deal more experience in opera, and as a result gained superb technique. Mario could have done that, and he definitely could have benefited from it. Certainly it would have made him at least Maria's equal, and perhaps even her superior.
You know, it's quite likely that if Mario had lived to open the season in Rome, La Divina would have steamrolled the management of the Met into booking Lanza to sing alongside her
Nice, Daniel ...
"The greatest diva of all time"? I have no doubt of that. If there were any greater from the pre-recording era we would know of her by legend.
The comparison with Lanza really stops at their spectacular voices and their passion. I don't think Maria ever sang anything non-operatic; Mario of course wrote the manual for "crossover." But oh, to have heard them do opera together! They were supposed to do a TV Spectacular together in 1960; Mario died in 1959. Maria is quoted in Cesari's bio as saying: "My biggest regret is not to have had the opportunity to sing with the greatest tenor voice I've ever heard."
You're so right about Maria's Vissi d'Arte. Even Jason Quintana's been impressed by it. (Aside from that, though, he remains a hopeless case.
)
Anyway, thanks for writing this. As you say, long overdue.
Linz