MARIA AND ISOLDE AND ME by Paul Padillo
A guest blog by Paul Padillo
Callas und Isolde
We know Maria gave her first Isolde at La Fenice on 30 December 1948, after learning memorizing and rehearsing it in a matter of days. Fiorenzo Tasso was her Tristan, Fedora Barbieri the Brangane, and Boris Christoff was King Marke. There were only four performances and it was published that the January 8 performance was a live radio broadcast. It simply had to have been recorded, yet 78 years later still no recording has emerged.
Reviews were raves, with Callas being called “the ideal Isolde voice.” As was the custom then, operas were performed in the vernacular, so in this case, Italian.
Maria was called up again for Isolde just months later. This time for Genova, in a more anticipated production with Max Lorenz as Tristan with Nicola Rossi-Lemini as Marke. Tullio Serafin (who trained her in the role) served as maestro for both Venice and Genova. The Genova prima was allegedly broadcast, and Lorenz frequently spoke about having a copy of it, and praised Maria as an ideal partner and a “great Wagner singer.” For whatever reasons, Lorenz never released his copy and it appears after his death his widow also refused to allow it to be shared with anyone.
Lorenz and Callas got along well, and I was later surprised to learn he was an early mentor of Callas frequent partner, Giuseppe di Stefano. Maria and Giuseppe even hosted Max for dinner at their hotel in Vienna in 1956 during their run of Lucia.
Maria wanted that recording – and in 1968, wrote Lorenz directly, requesting a copy.
“Dear Max – I hope you remember me from the olden days when we sang together. I shall never forget our joint performances. I hope you are well and content with your life. …I wonder if it is true that you have a tape of our ‘Tristan’. I was told that you have one, and I would be so happy if I could have a copy for my personal pleasure. Could you write to me if so – and anyway I would so like to hear from you. Much affection and hoping to hear from you, I remain yours – Maria Callas”
Max never released the tape.
After Terrence McNally’s play “The Lisbon Traviata” the topic of that play was eventually unearthed, then successfully and commercially released.
I’m hoping to change the course of recorded history by doing something similar.
MARIA and ME
Maria Callas died 48 years ago today, living only to the age of 53. This still blows my mind. I’ve written so much about Maria Callas since . . . let’s see, add the 6, carry the 3 and . . . well, a lot of years, now. Nonetheless, it seems there are always new and exciting things (for me at least) to learn about this artist so revered and admired and hated and . . . . everything in between. No has ever fascinated me quite the same as Maria’s did . . . and still does. Some of what I write here I’ve shared before but, it really does seem as though, even all these years later, there are new things to discover and so, here we are yet again.
As a boy I forever wondered what grown-ups meant whenever they spoke of “fleeting time.” The words were not yet even a concept, so how could it be understood? At the time of her death, I was a 17 year old music student – a pianist who liked to sing. Looking back I now realize what a pivotal, transitional year that was. Though I’d left home at 13 for boarding school, I spent summers at home, but at 17 . . . well, I knew I was leaving for good. and soon be studying music over 600 miles away. Seventeen was the most transformative year I’ve yet to experience. Now, looking hard down the barrel of 66, I look at and hear “fleeting time” . . . and I get it.
Throughout the ensuing years I became one of those kooks who collected pretty much the entire recorded Callas legacy – studio and live – and barely a day has gone by I’ve not listened to, and spent part of my day with the lady. Maria was someone whose impact on my life was enormous in many ways, almost all of it arising purely from her music making. Note: I’ve done and do the same with J.S. Bach and Shostakovich). Some interesting obsessions there, eh?
I’ve always been aware of her flaws, but none deterred me from believing that Maria Callas was for me (and many) the consummate singer. What she was able to do . . . the characters she could create from the page of a score, bringing them all so brilliantly, so vividly to life, in spite of those flaws . . . or even perhaps because of them, made these characters so real, and so utterly, remarkably human. Her ability, craft, sorcery . . . call it what you will, only deepened, and made even greater, my appreciation for her truly sui generis artistry.
Throughout my pursuit of learning everything I could, almost nothing fascinated quite like discovering the published programs from her student days at the Athens Conservatory and the recitals and concerts from the earliest part of her career. I ate it all up, spending days upon days digging through all of the archival material . . . anything I could get my hands and eyes on. It was positively dizzying and endlessly fascinating, teasing a smile onto my face, as I imagined her as Suor Angelica, or singing a wild, dizzying array of arias, songs and scenes none of us – certainly not me – ever associated with Callas. There was Rameau, Vaughan Williams (a performance of “On Wenlock Edge” with a string quartet!), Mozart, Rossini, Brahms, Handel. I tried to imagine what her young voice may have sounded like in things like Thaïs’ “Dis-moi que je suis belle,” or how she closed a concert belting out Landon Ronald’s classic, “Love, I have won you!”
I’d always read she was a fine pianist, but became more impressed when I saw the programs of her playing Bach and Beethoven – and was praised for her playing of them. Interestingly, she did not enjoy playing Mozart and it showed. Having played plenty (those 19 Sonatas, oy!) I related.
Until recently I’d been unaware one of Callas’s earliest successes was during in a long run of “Die Fledermaus” with the National Lyric Company in Athens. The Company’s production was a huge success and ran for a wild 89 performances, with multiple cast changes. While Callas” (and a number of other singers) names do not appear in the cast list. there was at least one review of her performances. Oddly, I still can’t find out if she was cast as Adele or Rosalinda. Despite the success of the show, her personal reviews were not good, with one citing her performance as “poor” and “amateurish.” Not making excuses for her, but it should be noted that during the “Fledermaus” run, young Maria also gave several student recitals, was studying for finals, and rehearsing Suor Angelica. Oh, yeah, and she was 16 years old.
Callas sang so many more roles and music than is generally known and there is documentation of radio broadcasts now lost of things that I’d love to have heard. of those that have been lost: a 1943 Pergolesi’s “Stabat Mater”; Salome in Stradella’s “San Giovanni Battista” her Isolde and Brünnhilde. While they appear to be forever lost, I still naively hope some of these to turn up. That’s another thing obsession does!
With the Greek National Opera in 1943 and 44, she sang a number of roles that year, and several concerts with the orchestra including a fundraiser for Tuberculosis where she performed : “Abscheulicher! … Komm, Hoffnung,” “Bel raggio lusinghier… Dolce pensiero,” “Casta Diva” and other arias. Having already starred as Tosca (at age 18!) she went on to appear as Santuzza, in the modern opera, “O Protomástoras (by Kalomiris), Leonore in Beethoven’s “Fidelio,” Marta in d’Alblert’s “Tiefland,” Also in 1944 Greek National Opera announced their first ever Wagner production: “Der fliegende Holländer,” with 21 year old Callas as Senta. This would would be followed by her role debut of “Fedora.” Callas learned both roles when, owing to the Athens Civil Disturbance, the Company was forced to cancel the those performances. When they re-opened it was with the revival of “Tiefland,” with Callas reprising her earlier success as Marta.
Before long there came the Walküre Brünnhilde, Isolde, Kundry, Gioconda, Turandot, Aida all segueing towards the bel canto and Verdi (and Toscas) that would define most of her career. All of this shot into her role as one of the greatest, most talked about, and absolutely controversial stars in the operatic firmament. That controversy “great or not” is still part of what she is remembered for. It seems fitting.
After the best years of her career were over, and years of semi-retirement there came projects turned down, offers, and rumors of offers for even more interesting choices no one would would have ever associated Callas with: a”Salome” with von Karajan; another role debut as “Melisande” for the Paris Opera; Charlotte in “Werther”; Ottavia in “Poppea”; Valentine in “Les Huguenots”. Then, there was Sir Rudolf’s “peace offering”: a return to the Met in a double bill starring as Elle in Poulenc’s “La Voix Humaine,” followed by the mime role as the great seductress Potiphar’s Wife with Rudolf Nureyev as Joseph in Strauss’ “Josephslegende.” Of course, not one of these would come to fruition, most seeming downright improbable and at best, unlikely, yet still that does not diminish one iota the fascinating possibilities in considering what one, or all of these, might have been like had they happened.
While I’m intrigued with the idea of Maria as Strauss’ Salome (and Elektra even more) she mentioned how she loved the role (I believe, knew it, if I recall) and had been asked to sing it. She was uncomfortable with the idea of actually performing it for non-musical reasons. She was not comfortable being onstage with little to wear and brought up her skimpy costume as Kundry and that was that.
Throughout the years since her passing, I’ve grown up, and while I’ve come to love and appreciate countless other singers, this simple truth remains: not one has meant as much to me, has moved me more deeply, or broken my heart quite as often as La Divina. Her artistry has been a part of my life from almost the very beginning and, along with a few other major influences has, like Bach, Boulez, and Bernstein, shaped the very way I listen to and approach music . . . how I think about it, and the powerful role it has played every single day of my life. For her part in all of this, I can only say, grazie, Maria. Grazie. It may be your anniversary, but it’s we who’ve received the gift.
