Callas Forever Returns as Prima Donna

-1-

In August 2003, just a few weeks I came over to the UK, I went to the screening of a film I thought I wanted to see. I've long loved the genius of Franco Zeffirelli, and I also loved classical music, opera in particular. Zeffirelli's then latest feature, Callas Forever, was screened as a part of the programme of the annual Moscow International Film Festival.

As can be deducted from the title, the film was about Maria Callas. Or better, it was a fictional account of her final years. Zeffirelli, renowned for his work on opera productions, was very close with Callas, so he naturally tasked himself with commemorating her on screen. The story saw Callas (Fanny Ardant), living a recluse in a Parisian flat, her voice and Onassis lost, when she is reunited with her former manager, Larry Kelly (Jeremy Irons), who is determined to bring Callas out of her seclusion and to restore her legacy. With this in mind, he sets out to produce a lavish screen adaptation of Carmen, with Callas starring in it and lip-syncing to her own glorious recording.

As the film develops, so do innumerable relationships. Aside of Callas's film, Larry Kelly is managing his love affair with a young artist. Callas is managing more than just the loss of her voice: Onassis left her for Jackie Kennedy, so a woman's tragedy adds to the tragedy of the artist. Despite the pain it causes her, Callas stores the newspapers clips about her ex-husband and his new wife. While she is working on the film, she develops a certain passion for a co-actor, a young handsome man who is keen to use his relationship with Callas to advance his own career.

The feature itself is a film in a film, or better, an opera in opera. Towards the middle of the film the highly charged human relationships begin to be interspersed with extracts from a would-be adaptation of Carmen. This is where Zeffirelli's long experience of working on opera productions shines through most brightly: one of the opening scenes of this "inner" film bedazzles the viewer with pure gold that downpours from the screen and spills over onto the audience. But Carmen will never be: in the end, Callas asks Kelly to destroy it, and he cannot say "no"...

-2-

It's June 2009, and I go to the Palace Theatre in Manchester to listen to Rufus Wainwright's first opera. It is called Prima Donna, and I have no expectations whatsoever. And in the middle of the first half I realise that, almost six years later, I am watching the musical version of Callas Forever. I didn't buy a programme upon arrival but when we learnt that the protagonist was due to sing her renowned Alienor, a beautiful recording of which existed, my realisation was complete. And if Rufus is surprised to read this, then so was I surprised to arrive to such conclusion. The rest of the work only convinced me.

In Prima Donna, the protagonist is a fading opera singer, Regine Saint Laurent (Janis Kelly), living a recluse in Paris in 1970. She has problems with her voice; she has been out of the public eye for six years; and her butler, Philippe (Jonathan Summers), is determined to get her back out on stage. He's even arranged for a journalist, Andre (William Joyner), to do an interview. The journalist, however, used to be an opera student, with the aspiration for a tenor career. Quick passion ignites; and then we find out exactly what caused Regine to withdraw from stage and to lose her voice. Philippe is arranging for her to sing a part from the opera Alienor (of which a great recording exist), in which she starred six years ago. Back then Regine was in love with her stage partner - not realising that she was a part of a love triangle, and eventually being violently confronted by the truth. It is this truth that caused both withdrawal from stage and the loss of the voice. Her possible hope - the journalist Andre - pays another visit, but this time brings his fiancee (called Sophie and dressed like Madame Butterfly). Following Philippe's leave and Andre's revelation, the singer finally decides to leave the stage. The final act of an artist that Regine performs is the signing of her albums, one for Andre, another for her faithful maid, Marie. Another faithful servant, Francois, gets the signature on his chest. Having sent everyone away, Regine watches the fireworks on the occasion of the Bastille Day, contemplating the shortness of the life's festival.

-3-

As with Zeffirelli's film, I am hugely impressed with scenography, costumes, and lighting design. The work of everyone who worked on this production, starting with Alan Poots who commissioned it, cannot be faulted. This is a modern opera, and thus classical overtures fare along with the occasional bar-style mannerism. Janis Kelly who often has to perform as if her voice breaks, is astounding, as is Rebecca Bottone. I really wouldn't want to go into any other connotations Rufus would bring with him - for, if this is music (or opera for that matter), it must transcend all personal experiences, if it is to be understood by, and most importantly if it is to influence, people. At the same time, it is his first opera, and I would certainly not want it to be the last, although maybe I'd like him to put a different subject to music.

My only "problem" therefore remains this striking similarity between the stories of Prima Donna and Callas Forever. Maybe I wouldn't find it too striking if the story told by Zeffirelli was, well, a novel written, published, and read by many. But as it seems, Zeffirelli's story was as original as it was fictional, a film script, so to see it making the storyline to Prima Donna is strange, to say the least. In the interviews with Rufus that I was able to watch, he mentions Callas but says no word about Zeffirelli.

And this is not to deny that Rufus wanted to concenrate on other "sides" to this story. E.g. when should a performer resolve that enough is enough, and to exit gracefully? Or to what extent Love rules not only the world but talent, too? But was the latter not the question that can be asked of Callas's life? Did Onassis leave her because she lost her voice? Or did she never regain the voice because her love was betrayed?

I am asking myself what my impression of Prima Donna would be, had I not had the "baggage" of six years ago that forced itself upon? Taking everything together, the impression would be good, although I wish some lines wouldn't be so simple or repetitive. But the baggage is there, and it's just too obvious for me to ignore it.

Having thus broken the ground, Rufus, I'd expect, may compose a rock opera and/or a musical: looking at the examples of Quadrophenia, Jesus Christ Superstar, The Phantom of the Opera, Notre Dame de Paris, and Cats, these genres will surely fit everything he seems to want to bring on stage. But if he choose to work on classical opera, I'd like to see him try something less lavish, more restrained as in his score for one of Shakerspeare's sonnets. (And do some research or asks someone to do it for him, as to the subject or storyline).

P.S. It feels extraordinarily weird to say this, but I couldn't help hearing a hint to Michel Legrand's (or Barbra Streisand's) theme from Yentl, Papa Can You Hear Me?, in the overture to Prima Donna. It isn't a copy, but again the similarity is strong. As mankind's becoming older, it becomes harder to be totally original... but musically, as stylistically, this may indicate some curious influences.

If you're based in the UK and haven't seen Alan Yentob's Imagine series about Rufus Wainwright, you can watch it on the BBC iPlayer. If you're not in the UK, you may be able to download the file.

Other posts in Manchester International Festival.

Continue reading...

Vasari and Ingres: The Death of Leonardo

It took me a little while to get up to my own promise... but here's finally The Inspirations for the 19th Century.

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, The Death of Leonardo, 1818

At last, having become old, he lay ill for many months, and seeing himself near death, he set himself to study the holy Christian religion, and though he could not stand, desired to leave his bed with the help of his friends and servants to receive the Holy Sacrament. Then the king, who used often and lovingly to visit him, came in, and he, raising himself respectfully to sit up in bed, spoke of his sickness, and how he had offended God and man by not working at his art as he ought. Then there came a paroxysm, a forerunner of death, and the king raised him and lifted his head to help him and lessen the pain, whereupon his spirit, knowing it could have no greater honour, passed away in the king's arms in the seventyfifth year of his age.

The loss of Lionardo was mourned out of measure by all who had known him, for there was none who had done such honour to painting. The splendour of his great beauty could calm the saddest soul, and his words could move the most obdurate mind. His great strength could restrain the most violent fury, and he could bend an iron knocker or a horseshoe as if it were lead. He was liberal to his friends, rich and poor, if they had talent and worth; and indeed as Florence had the greatest of gifts in his birth, so she suffered an infinite loss in his death.

This passage from Giorgio Vasari's The Lives of the Artists inspired Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (J.-A.-D. Ingres (French painter)) to paint his 1818 work, titled The Death of Leonardo da Vinci. Leonardo is depicted wearing a long beard, as on the Uffizi portrait.

Following Leonardo's death, Francesco Melzi wrote to the painter's brothers:

I understand that you have been informed of the death of Master Leonardo, your brother, who was like an excellent father to me. It is impossible to express the grief that I feel at his death, and as long as my bodily parts sustain me I will feel perpetual unhappiness, which is justified by the consuming and passionate love he bore daily towards me. Everyone is grieved by the loss of such a man whose like nature no longer has it in her power to produce...

View the excellent cover of 1568 edition of Vasari's work; and read extracts at Fordham University's website.

Other posts in 19th Century Inspirations.
Other posts about Leonardo da Vinci.
Other posts in Painting and Art.

Continue reading...

My Footballer's Life

Last year I was given a brief, to write a short story. There was a possibility of me working on a larger project, but recession struck, so the project apparently didn't move forward. There are a few things I'd leave unchanged about the story when I rewrite it, but I decided to share it in the form it was first written.

My Footballer's Life

Frankly, I don’t like summer holidays. Being a female writer, I compare myself to the Premier League. Different teams compete in me all year round: a “Woman”, a “Wife”, a “Lover”, a “Friend”, a “Mother”, and a “Writer”. And I feel particularly vulnerable in August when the “Mother” team soars at the top of the League table, while the “Writer” is on the verge of a total relegation, and the “Lover” is having serious problems with management!

The truth is that I feel less confident having kids at home all day. It’s like my entire League is taken for a World Cup where it has to compete against the teams “Tommy”, “Jenny”, “Neighbour’s Kids”, and a few more, who know no rules of the game. I lack the order, the planning because, once August has come, we all suddenly realise just how tired we are after a school year, and the Lord of Misrule appears out of the blue. Or, in case with the team “Tommy”, the Lord of Misrule appears every morning in the doorway, half-asleep – even if this is well after 10 o’clock. And even then he’s too tired to eat the full breakfast.

We always try to take children to the events, but we do it throughout the year, so August is no different. “Friend” and “Mother” teams usually clash on these occasions, and usually draw.

The only thing that I truly enjoy about this month is family cooking. I think it’s when my “Woman” team shines modestly. During the school year cooking tends to be seasonal (like, we cook all together for Easter and Christmas, as well as birthdays and anniversaries). Then there are Sunday roasts. But during the week it’s either me or Richard who cook. The kids do the table, they help to dry the dishes, but we spare them from cooking.

Not in August. One of the biggest problems for me was that my parents allowed me to study more than to learn the “female” stuff, like cooking. I taught myself to cook when I went to the uni, but now this late blossoming probably affects my Premier League competition. Anyway, I’m adamant the kids learn this earlier than I did.

Today for tea we had salmon with pasta, and this awesome dish: broccoli with chilli peppers and garlic. You can serve broccoli on bread, but it can be a side dish, too. For this, you need one broccoli, 2 chillies, 3 garlic teeth, some olive oil, a herring fillet, and black ground pepper. You first dissect broccoli into florets, and put them in the salted boiling water. Once the water is boiling again, you turn the fire off. In the meantime, you heat 4 tablespoons of olive oil in the big frying pan (or wok, which is even better), and throw the thinly cut garlic in it.

I remember frying garlic for the first time many years ago, and I let it burn. At the time I was renting a room in an old couple’s house, and the husband had an extremely sensitive nose. He claimed he suffered from a severe migraine following my garlic escapade. I must admit the smell of the burning garlic is enough to fight off the Dracula. In my case, it was enough to make the old man become extremely irritating. Luckily for everyone, this happened in October when I was already dating Richard, and in early December I moved out from the old couple’s house and moved in with him. I made sure I never burned garlic in our house.

So, after the garlic turned gold, you add thinly cut chillies and the herring fillet. Keep the fire under the pan very low. The recipe suggested adding anchovies OR herring, so through experimenting I chose herring. Once herring dissolves in oil, add broccoli florets, some black pepper, and half a ladle of the water in which broccoli was boiled. You don’t need to get rid of this water – you can still cook pasta in it. Broccoli then needs to be cooked in the frying pan for about 5-10 min: just enough to get your pasta ready.

The first time we made this dish, Tommy cut one chilli and then scratched his nose before he washed his hands. Good job you didn’t touch your eyes, I said to him. For the rest of the evening he’d do short voyages to the kitchen, to apply some cold water to his burning nose tip.

Jenny was cutting peppers today, so Tommy told her to wash her hands before touching her face. “Well, I’m not that stupid”, she replied, and I could feel Tommy shutting up.

- Jenny, don’t call your brother stupid, it’s not nice.

- But mum, he touched his face last week...

- Well, yes, and that’s why he tells you now. He doesn’t want you to suffer. I’d thank him if I were you.

Jenny doesn’t like being told off (who does?!) but I heard her whispering “thank you” to Tommy. He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t reply.

After tea “Mother” vs. “Wife” match begins. We sit outside, if the weather is good, or inside if it’s raining, but invariably I am torn between Richard and kids. I don’t count “Richard” as a competing team: the poor guy is the crowd, and he’s got to please too many players with his cheers. So, as the “Mother”, I have to learn new manoeuvres all the time, while the “Wife” is anxious to win and to get her crowd’s attention. It usually happens anyway, when the World Cup teams retreat to bed, and Richard and I stay downstairs. I know he understands that I am doing more job than any of the footballers out there, although no-one will ever pay me as much money. Thankfully, we both realise there are things money can’t buy – like the butterflies in your stomach when your man gently buries his nose in your neck...

Copyright © Julie Delvaux 2008.

The image is courtesy of Nicky Reynolds.

Continue reading...

The Boxing Club, Mayakovsky, and Manchester

When coincidences like this occur, you've got make a point of them. So here goes...

I was reading Mayakovski's My Discovery of America
, and in the very beginning he narrates his journey to Cuba on an ocean liner. He is a Soviet citizen, travels first class, but makes insightful observations of the three classes of travellers.

So, this is the quote from the book:

On the day before our arrival in Havana the ship came to life. A tombola was held - a nautical charitable event in aid of maritime orphans. [...]

The highlight was the boxing. Obviously, this was for the fans of this sport, the English and the Americans. None of them knew how to box. It's repulsive - belting each other in the mug in the heat. In the first pairing was the ship's cook - a disrobed, puny, hairy Frenchman with black sock full of holes over his bare legs.

The cook was battered for some while. For about five minutes he held his own through skill and for another twenty minutes through pride, but then gave in, lowered his hands and went off, spitting out blood and teeth.

In the second bout, some fool of a Bulgarian, who arrogantly left his chest wide open, was scrapping with an American detective. This detective, a boxer of professional standard, was seized with fits of laughter. He flailed around but, through hilarity and surprise, was wide of the mark and broke his own hand, which had mended badly after a war-wound.

And just as I was reading this, the doorbell rang. I answered it; a man in glasses wanted to leave some leaflets. He left them in the doorway, so I collected and brought them in the building. But try and imagine my face when I saw what the leaflet read:

So, on top of all sorts of things to be found in Manchester, there is now a Mancunian Boxing Club. Maybe it'll see Rocky
or The Wrestler ; or maybe it spurs the underground Fight Club. Whatever happens, this was an occasion to remember.

P.S. - As it happens, I remembered everything I knew about Mickey Rourke and his latest film, except the film's name. So I had to google "Mickey Rourke", and found out that Rourke has a very official website. Also, The Wrestler can be viewed on Amazon as the video on demand. Unfortunately, it is available for U.S. viewers only.

Continue reading...