Mario Del Monaco
Derek McGovern
only have to read some of the adoring threads on the grandi-tenori
site for proof of that - but the man's enormous popularity has always
puzzled me. I became even more puzzled recently when I watched a DVD
of his Canio from a televised production of Pagliacci in Tokyo in the
early 1960s - a period when he was supposedly still at his peak. (He
was then in his mid-40s.)
For one thing, his acting was atrocious - even the hammiest of
thespians would have been embarrassed by it. Someone once observed
that Del Monaco seems to have acquired his hilariously exaggerated
theatrics from watching silent movies. If that's true, they must have
been very *bad* silent films. But, you might say, many opera singers
from Del Monaco's era were hopeless actors: the key thing was his
voice. That glorious trumpeting sound!
Well, all I can say to that is if sheer volume is all that one
requires from an opera singer, then Del Monaco is the man for the job.
Here, as always, he belts out those notes with terrific force at every
opportunity. But that's *all* he does - and, here, not all of the
notes are as well placed as they ought to be, given the man's
reputation. The voice is not even remotely beautiful to my ears, the
diction is muddy, and he only seems to know one emotion: anger.
Admittedly, Canio is not the most subtle of characters, but, even so,
there are moments when he isn't supposed to be raging. There was no
poignancy in Del Monaco's Vesti la Giubba; he simply ranted his way
through the aria without ever revealing Canio's broken heart. I was
exhausted by the end of it all - and, for the first time in my adult
life, I realised why some people won't touch opera with a barge pole.
But any thought that Del Monaco may have been having an off-day for
that Tokyo performance was offset by an Italian documentary from the
1960s that I happened to watch last week. This has to be seen to be
believed! In it, Del Monaco displays a maniacal ego beyond anything
I've ever witnessed before, as he struts hilariously around his home,
the Italian streets - and even an ampitheatre - as if he were
Mussolini on methamphetamines, all the while miming (very badly) with
the most grotesque gestures imaginable to some pre-recorded bellowing.
I was staggered at how bad the singing was: belted as if he were
trying to beat the arias into submission. And when he speaks on this
programme, it's in the manner of a madman: he talks absolutely flat
out in a curiously high-pitched voice, never pausing for breath - just
ranting on and on and on. It's extraordinary - and, like his singing,
exhausting.
Now if Del Monaco were just another tenor, then I wouldn't have even
bothered to write this post. But the fact that the man *is* so highly
regarded in operatic circles - revered almost as a God in some
quarters, in fact - has made me genuinely curious as to the reasons
for his popularity. This, after all, was a man who publicly proclaimed
that he had no contemporaries because all of his [worthy] colleagues
were dead - a man who sneered at Lanza and even Corelli, with whom he
at least shared a somewhat similar singing technique. (But give me
Corelli any day over Del Monaco.) And yet it's *Lanza* that we are
constantly told was a monstrous egotist, and it's Lanza who is always
accused of sloppy operatic singing and bellowing. Even during his
lifetime, Lanza was often subjected to unflattering comparisons with
Del Monaco.
But apart from Del Monaco's ability to deafen his audiences with
astounding volume, can anyone suggest any valid reasons for his
enormous reputation? Is it really possible that I've somehow missed
hearing all of his truly great performances?
Honestly, I think I would go mad if I had to listen to singing that
was so seemingly devoid of warmth or poetry for any length of time!!
Vince Di Placido
found a Del Monaco Pagliacci lp set in an old second hand record store
when I was a teenager & to fill up the last side of the second lp they
had Del Monaco "singing" some neapolitan songs, some of which I had
known & loved for years through Mario's "Mario!" album, well all I can
tell you is I was shocked, disturbed & disappointed listening to them
& I never wanted to play them again, which is always a bad sign. As
you said, there is a real lack of beauty & poetry. Phrasing is just
not on the agenda here It seems to me Del Monaco doesn't want anything
to get in the way of his loud wall of sound, he certainly was loud,
I'll give him that, but anbody with even a bit of musical intelligence
must want something more than volume!?
Aline staires
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Michael, my pet, I think you must take a back seat to Derek to-day in the witty department.
Derek, your comments are hilarious!! Where do you find these extraordinary DVD's?? You discribe this arrogant oaf so well I can just see him "strutting his stuff". How could anyone in their right mind compare him to Mario?? To my knowledge I've never heard this bellowing goofball and I don't think I want to. Unless, of course I can get my hands on the DVD that Derek mentioned. It should be good for a laugh.
Aline
-------Original Message------- |
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Savage
occasion, in the role of Samson. He was already a senior citizen but
still had the ability to produce impressive volume. I enjoyed Nell
Rankin's Delilah but old Mario/Samson left me cold. You are correct
in recognizing the lack of refinement in his singing. Wunderlich's
wonderful vocal artistry motivated me to attend every performanceI
could but I had no interest in seeking out another opera starring Del
Monaco. Richard Tucker at least combined some finesse with his
stentorian power, but with Del Monaco this was not the case.
David
Derek McGovern
Vince: I can relate to your experience with the Neapolitan songs. When
I was in Rome in 1986, a Del Monaco fanatic - and there are plenty of
them in Italy! - made me sit through an entire disc of his Neapolitan
recordings, and even gave me the album when I left, writing on the
back cover that he hoped the beauty of Del Monaco would enter my
heart. (That particular organ repelled the invader, though.)
The disc was awful - it sounded almost as if someone had merged Del
Monaco with the Lanza on Broadway album. The voice had a metallic
harshness and each song was sung in the identical, bellowed manner -
much as though it were the moment in Otello when the title character
refers to Desdemona as "una vil cortigiana". I'm not kidding: he
*massacred* those beautiful songs. But it was one of Del Monaco's last
albums (circa 1972, from memory), and I remember thinking that it must
have caught him on a truly bad day; *surely*, I thought, this couldn't
be representative of his best singing? (Don't forget that Paul Baron
had told me four years earlier how much better a singer Del Monaco was
than Lanza.) To the gentleman who played me the album, though, it was
a masterpiece - and this fellow was a passionate music lover.
Everyone hears things differently, don't they? :-)
David: Thanks for your anecdote! Goodness: what a life you've led -
hearing Tucker, Wunderlich, *and* Del Monaco in person! (Something
tells me that Fritz and Maestro Del Monaco would never have seen eye
to eye on interpretation :-))
Aline: I saw the DVD of Del Monaco at a friend's house. Some of it may
be on youtube, though: I'll have a look for you. It's a funny thing: I
always used to think of Del Monaco as a handsome fellow. Certainly he
looks great in photos. But having seen him on this DVD in his home,
doing the oddest things imaginable, all the while prancing about with
his eyes wide open and gesticulating wildly, it's hard not to get an
attack of the giggles when I think of him. Remember that this
documentary was made during his prime. He's considerably more subdued,
and actually quite rational, on a much later Italian programme that
I've seen on youtube.
Muriel
Otello with Del Monaco and Renata Tebaldi and gave it a spin. Well!!
What a treat! (not) I played the Gia nella notte densa and was
reminded of Mario's duet with Jean Tennyson - only - the quality of
performances were reversed! Tebaldi was lovely, and this Mario was
awful! No baci would he ever get from me....much too loud and
uninviting...
Next came Dio ti giocondi, o sposa, and I thought he would blow poor
Desdemona across the room! He certainly was fierce enough. His
phrasing in the Monologue was most unsettling. One could easily
understand that here was a madman, but he had none of the expression
where it was needed. It's a good thing Mario never heard this (it was
recorded in May, 1961) or he would have wanted to have made sure he
recorded this opera before he left this earth, just to show how it
should be done.
During the Niun mi tema, he shouted out Desdemona's name loud enough
to have brought her back to life! No, there is no beauty in his
singing and I'll not play this again, certainly not the whole opera.
After reading Derek's description of Del Monaco's hilarious strutting
around, I found picture in this booklet of him during the recording
and he is pictured in a full forward lunge with one arm fully extended
and his mouth wide open, looking quite wild-eyed! Oh, it must be the
same posture as in the doco. I am beside myself with laughter!
It beats me how he has any appeal to a serious opera fan......
Basta! Muriel
Muriel
*our* Mario never heard this.....
Good thing he was surrounded by great associates: Tebaldi, and
conductor Herbert von Karajan.
Derek McGovern
Monaco's stentorian fury!
Your post reminded me of an interview I heard on the radio many years
ago with the Finnish baritone Tom Krause, I think it was. He talked
about the experience of recording an opera with Del Monaco, saying
that he had never heard someone sing so consistently loudly in his
life. Del Monaco would enter the recording studio without saying a
word to his colleagues (well, they would have been "underlings" in his
mind, anyway, I suppose), *blast* his portion of whatever it was they
were doing at that point, and then walk straight out again!
But there's no denying that he was completely dedicated to singing.
Armando told me recently that Del Monaco's wife went so far as to
complain (either to her husband's recording company or opera
management - I can't remember which) that their romantic life was
non-existent because of his obsession with performing!
Muriel
Otello *is* a strenuous role as I discovered when I saw it performed.
The poor tenor was drenched in sweat by the end and I thought he
wouldn't make it for the curtain call....
Derek McGovern
I'm sure no one could ever accuse him of not giving his all whenever
he performed it. That was essentially Signora Del Monaco's complaint:
in the lead-up to any operatic appearance, he always ignored her
because he was so focused on the performance, and after it was all
over, he always ignored he because he was so tired!
Somehow I just can't imagine the other Mario being quite so single-minded :-)
Derek McGovern
because he was so tired!"
> Somehow I just can't imagine the other Mario being quite so singleminded :-)
>
> On 1/31/08, Muriel <mawsco...@yahoo.com> wrote:
> >
> time!!-
> > Hide quoted text -
> > >
> > > - Show quoted text -
> > > >
> >
>
Armando
and his often hilarious anecdotes in his book 'Setting the Record
Straight.'
In the following Culshaw talks about his wish to have Di Stefano
record Don Jose'.
" My only plea (to the chiefs at Decca) was for Di Stefano as Don
Jose' Nobody I had ever seen had surpassed him in the part on the
stage. But I had not reckoned without Del Monaco who was smarting
because he had heard of the RCA project with his much younger rival
Corelli, and was upset because Di Stefano had sung in the RCA Tosca
(RCA would not have Del Monaco at any price or even as gift.) Del
Monaco and his wife strormed into Zurich and created hell in
Rosengarten's* office. If only to get rid of them Rosengarten gave him
the part.
* Head of Decca's classical music
And discussing a planned recording of Aida,
" Karajan did not really want Del Monaco, (as Radames) and I certainly
didn't want him in that part......... and of course Del Monaco was hopping
mad that he was not in the cast. The only way that Rosengarten could
keep him quiet was to assure him that he would be in Aida.*
*The part of Radames had already been given to Bergonzi.
More about Del Monaco's wife later.
Armando
Culshaw's encounters with Del Monaco's overbearing wife, Rina.
" Until I met Loretta Corelli I did not think anyone in the world
could rival Rina Del Monaco, Mario's wife, in certain characteristics.
Rina had a loud voice - louder, if she cared to use it so, than her
husband's. She did not care much about how she looked and spoke. Her
sole concern was that her husband's voice should be not just a little
but a very great deal louder than any other musical element in
whatever piece he was appearing in. It did not matter a fresh fig to
her that Verdi, for example, frequently wrote, "ppp..... morendo (very
quietly.....dying away), or, "pppp.... voce soffocata" (extremeluy
quietly ...as if suffocating), in the score of Otello; what Rina wanted
at all times was that Mario should be as loud and clear as a station
announcer with a good amplifier and to hell with what the words were
about.
Indeed, it was she that almost brought the entire Otello Operation to
an end in 1961, when she was discovered sitting in a loge with a small
cassette machine, on which she was attempting to make her own
recordings. The trouble was that the closer she got to the stage and
her husband, the closer she came to the trumpets and trombones if she
was on the left, or to the horns if she was on the right, so that
everything she recorded consisted of brass outbursts of one sort or
another.
When a member of the orchestra discovered her he told the union
representative, who threatened to stop the recording unless she ceased
her illegal activities; we were more grateful that he ever knew for
his intervention, but Rina was furious.
She was absolutely basic, and Italian basic at that, but she was not a
spiteful woman.
One would have preferred not to have Rina present at sessions, but
once you knew her, and learned how to shout back at her. She gave
little trouble."
Derek McGovern
ignore the composer's markings, it's little wonder Del Monaco overdid
the fortissimo to such a ridiculous extent.
I can't help thinking here of the vast difference between Lanza's
situation and that of Del Monaco and Corelli. Unlike these men, Lanza
had no Loretta or Rina nagging him - berating him even - to succeed.
Temperamentally, of course, he wasn't the type to be pushed around by
anyone, but he certainly needed a strong person in his life to
motivate him.
Lou
Christa Ludwig in her autobiography and quoted by the New York Times.
She related how Del Monaco, aboard ship, began flirting with a young
woman. His wife went up to the woman and explained the particulars:
''On the day before a performance, he shouldn't. On the day of a
performance, he may not. And on the day after a performance, he can't.
He sings twice a week, and the one day in between belongs to me.''
I once read that Del Monaco was an electrifying presence in the
theater and that he sings better in his "live" recordings than in his
commercial ones because in the studio, Rina was always yelling at him
to increase his volume.
Not being a Del Monaco fan, I don't own any of his audio recordings
except where they're part of a multi-singer compilation. I do have
two black and white films of his, both gifts, and I must say that
they're not half bad. To be sure, Del Monaco makes a mighty noise in
both performances, reminding the listener that he had not been dubbed
the Brazen Bull of Milan for nothing. It is said that the object of
Del Monaco's singing is not to caress but to excite. And excitement
is what these two videos have in spades, although caresses aren't
totally absent.
The first video is a 1955 Andrea Chenier film with Antonietta Stella.
Shot live without retakes, it is the best Chenier on video, according
to critic Albert Innaurato. (I understand that Del Monaco had
studied the opera with Giordano himself, who later referred to Del
Monaco as the only Chenier.) Del Monaco's young-looking and handsome
Chenier strikes me as fiery but sensitive, even vulnerable, to say
nothing of virile and ardent. I find his stentorian outbursts, as in
Si, fu suldato, thrilling rather than overpowering, but of course the
voice itself is lightyears away from our Mario's in terms of tonal
beauty.
The other film is the 1958 Otello with Rosanna Carteri. I enjoyed
watching Del Monaco's convincing characterization of the Moor.
Expectedly, the powerhouse of a voice dominates the performance, but
unexpectedly, it is tempered with nuance. Vocally and visually, Del
Monaco is tender (he actually sings piano, if not pianissimo, in some
passages) and exultant in the love duet, terrifying in the vengeance
and Dio ti giocondi duets, touching and chilling in the Dio mi potevi
(though the angle of the lighting hides his facial expression during
the greater part of the monologue), and dignified in the death scene
(though I could do without the groans).
Derek's description of Del Monaco's bizarre carryings-on in the
Italian doco is priceless. What an insufferable egotist (Del Monaco,
not Derek :-) )! But surely, given his countless admirers, which
include a good number of respected opera and music critics, it is not
an exaggeration to call Del Monaco an exceptional artist. As such, he
is entitled to an occasional display of egocentric behavior. As Joan
Plowright recently said of her late husband, the great actor Laurence
Olivier: "If a man is touched by genius, he is not an ordinary person.
He doesn't lead an ordinary life. He has extremes of behaviour which
you understand and you just find a way not to be swept overboard by
his demons." (Quoted by Derek in the thread, "Singing to the Gods,"
BBC TV spread of Mario.)
>
>
>
> > Following on from my earlier post, this one is about one of John
> > Culshaw's encounters with Del Monaco's overbearing wife, Rina.
>
> > " Until I met Loretta Corelli I did not think anyone in the world
> > could rival Rina Del Monaco, Mario's wife, in certain characteristics.
> > sole concern was that her husband's voice should be not just a little
> > but a very great deal louder than any other musical element in
> > whatever piece he was appearing in. It did not matter a fresh fig to
> > quietly ...as if suffocating), in the score of Otello; what Rina wanted
> > at all times was that Mario should be as loud and clear as a station
> > announcer with a good amplifier and to hell with what the words were
> > about.
>
> > Indeed, it was she that almost brought the entire Otello Operation to
> > an end in 1961, when she was discovered sitting in a loge with a small
> > cassette machine, on which she was attempting to make her own
> > recordings. The trouble was that the closer she got to the stage and
> > her husband, the closer she came to the trumpets and trombones if she
> > was on the left, or to the horns if she was on the right, so that
> > everything she recorded consisted of brass outbursts of one sort or
> > another.
>
> > When a member of the orchestra discovered her he told the union
> > representative, who threatened to stop the recording unless she ceased
> > her illegal activities; we were more grateful that he ever knew for
> > his intervention, but Rina was furious.
> > She was absolutely basic, and Italian basic at that, but she was not a
> > spiteful woman.
>
> > One would have preferred not to have Rina present at sessions, but
> > once you knew her, and learned how to shout back at her. She gave
> > little trouble."
>
>
> > > > Whoops! I meant: "and after it was all over, he always ignored HER
> > > > because he was so tired!"
>
>
> > > > > Yes, Otello is certainly a taxing role, and to be fair to Del Monaco,
> > > > > I'm sure no one could ever accuse him of not giving his all whenever
> > > > > he performed it. That was essentially Signora Del Monaco's complaint:
> > > > > in the lead-up to any operatic appearance, he always ignored her
> > > > > because he was so focused on the performance, and after it was all
> > > > > over, he always ignored he because he was so tired!
>
> > > > > Somehow I just can't imagine the other Mario being quite so singleminded :-)
>
>
> read more >>- Hide quoted text -
Armando
both televised performances with the singing pre-recorded.
I haven't seen either of these in ages, but I recall the filming in
Otello as very dark, so dark that all I could see was Del Monaco's
eyes.
My biggest problem with Del Monaco, apart from his frequent blasting,
is his total inability to express visually whatever he is trying to
convey vocally.
In my opinion, there is no connection between what is emerging from
Del Monaco's throat and his ridiculous gestures.
I find that his concept of a role has nothing to do with acting or
feeling the part, but is simply an assorted collection of grimaces,
exaggerated posturing and totally inappropriate carryings on (such as
pulling his hair out at the end of Vesti La Giubba, or cutting his
throat in Niun Mi tema), which are too laughable for words.
Pavarotti was a hopeless actor, but at least he did nothing, Del
Monaco, on the other hand,
reminds me of silent film acting (it was me that said Derek!) and
pretty poor acting at that!
It's true that he has a large number of followers, but he is far from
admired by the vast majority of music and opera critics. In fact his
performances are constantly damned, particularly by the Italian
critics.
I agree with Plowright's statement, but in Del Monaco's case, rather
than genius, I think he was touched by madness.
>
> read more >>
Derek McGovern
Mario Del Monaco), I heartily concur with Armando: the man was indeed
"touched by madness"! I urge everyone to take a look at the following
extracts, two of which are from that very programme. They're in
Italian with no subtitles, but even if you can't understand the
language, that shouldn't hinder you from "enjoying" them :-)
Here's Del Monaco at a restaurant raving on about how wonderful he is.
Notice the eyes and the non-stop monologue:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8h0fl4JCsI
And here's the beginning of the doco, starting with Del Monaco the
hilarious mini-dictator strutting about, as he orders his servants to
hang yet *another* painting of himself on the wall. *Do* stay with
this 9-minute extract because you'll find some unexpected treats:
"Esultate!" from Otello next to the swimming pool, the most ridiculous
Vesti la Giubba I've ever seen (as he sings along with his recording),
and his hilarious method of reclining while watching TV. Priceless!:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NM7_eh2MH2k
And here's the much later Del Monaco at the age of 60 destroying E
Lucevan le Stelle in a live TV appearance. His intonation is terrible
(especially at the beginning), he emphasises all the wrong words ("dai
veli" is belted out as if it were a battle cry!), makes some very ugly
sounds, smiles in a weird and unsettling way on the first "E muoio
disperato", holds on to "vita" at the end for a ridiculous amount of
time, and so on:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGigUY3Mf7E&feature=related
Jan Hodges
Italian but I lost count of the number of times I heard "Mia Voce"
I found the Vesti highly amusing......why bother to sing along with a
recording especially when he kept dropping down an octave.
My view is that Mr. Del Monaco only knew three differences in volume. Loud.
Louder and LOUDESTl.
I am sorry but I found it difficult to take him seriously. The posturing
and "hamminess"[is that a word?] took so much of my attention I couldn't
concentrate on the voice.
Jan
Derek McGovern
around the Arena di Verona miming to his Di Quella Pira:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veTWqkltGLA
I don't know who's nuttier - Del Monaco, or his adoring fans on
youtube!
Incidentally, Stefan Zucker of the Bel Canto Society makes some
interesting comments about the Del Monaco/Corelli rivalry, and also
reveals a disturbing episode in Del Monaco's life that makes me wonder
if Lanza biographer Roland Bessette chose the wrong tenor for his
study in scandal :-):
"By the mid-50s Corelli came to feel competitive with Del Monaco
although he was in his shadow. Loretta di Lelio, who was to become
Corelli's wife, told me that once, when he was performing at La Scala,
she assumed he wanted her to attend to his needs backstage and
critique his performance. He said, "No, go listen to Del Monaco," who
was broadcasting Norma,"and tell me how he does." During an
intermission she reported he was doing quite well. Corelli flew into a
rage.
The Corellis were fond of a Jewish delicatessen called Wolf's,
opposite their apartment on Manhattan's West 57th Street. He would eat
a pastrami sandwich and, sometimes, potato latkes while she would
nibble on something or other, and they would hold forth until we were
thrown out for the night. After Wolf's closed, in 1994, they moved
back to Italy. We were at Wolf's one day in 1994, when I asked Franco
to compare Galliano Masini, Francesco Merli and Del Monaco. Franco
shot back, "They sang. Del Monaco shouted." Loretta concurred.
Del Monaco and Corelli were able to converse in a friendly manner. But
Corelli became a star at Del Monaco's expense. For example, La Scala
scheduled Fedora (1956), Poliuto (1960) and La battaglia di Legnano
(1961) for Del Monaco. But in the end Corelli sang the performances
because, of the two, the management found Del Monaco the more
impossible to deal with.
Moreover, in 1956 Del Monaco was prohibited by court order from
performing in Italy for 18 months because he exposed himself
repeatedly to his 15-year-old niece."
(from http://www.amazon.de/Giordano-Umberto-Andrea-Ch%C3%A9nier-NTSC/dp/B000EDWLDC)
Armando
offer Corelli a contract to sing at the Met, he confronted Bing with
the ultimatum "It's either him or me!" To which, Bing replied, "In
that case I'm afraid it's going to be him." Del Monaco never sang at
the Met again.
Derek McGovern
right choice. But here's an interesting thought: given Del Monaco's
attitude towards his contemporaries, just imagine his reaction if
Lanza had indeed sung Andrea Chenier at La Scala, as Victor De Sabata
invited him to do, in the 1950/51 season! No doubt Del Monaco
considered the role of Chenier his alone, and he would have been
outraged at the thought of an "outsider" singing the part that he had
performed there only the year before. But, clearly, De Sabata - then
the Artistic Director at La Scala - didn't regard Del Monaco as
"owning" the role.
Speaking of which, Lou made the point earlier that Giordano, the
composer of Andrea Chenier, reportedly regarded Del Monaco as the
ideal Chenier. This was news to me! In fact, I didn't even think that
Del Monaco had sung the role until 1949 - the year after Giordano's
death. (I could be wrong, though.) But perhaps Del Monaco visited the
old boy and convinced him that he was the man for the job.
I know I've made this point before, but if Lanza had even possessed
just a little of Del Monaco's egotism, he would never have allowed
Hollywood to undermine his faith in himself.
Incidentally, it still amazes me that MGM ever considered Del Monaco
as a replacement for Lanza on The Student Prince. The only possible
advantage that Del Monaco had over Lanza was his arrogance - a useful
quality for the early scenes when the Prince is still a "Prussian
pickle" - but the former simply didn't have the capacity for romance
or tenderness, either vocally or as an actor. Imagine him trying to
sing the delicate lines in Deep in My Heart, Dear! He would have
blasted poor Ann Blyth out of the recording booth.
Soprano Magda Olivero had some interesting things to say about Del
Monaco's singing technique:
"When Del Monaco and I sang Francesca da Rimini together at La Scala
he explained his whole vocal technique to me. When he finished I said,
'My dear Del Monaco, if I had to put into practice all the things
you've told me, I'd stop singing right away and just disappear.' The
technique was so complicated: you push the larynx down, then you push
this up, then you do that—in short, it made my head spin just to hear
everything he did.
We recorded Francesca excerpts together. Francesca has a beautiful
phrase, 'Paolo, datemi pace,' marked 'piano," and then Paolo enters
with 'Inghirlandata di violette,' which also should be sung softly,
delicately. Instead, Del Monaco was terrible—he bellowed the phrase
[she imitates him and laughs]! When he listened to the playback he
exclaimed, 'I can't believe it! After that soft poetic phrase I come
in and what do I sound like—a boxer punching with his fists!' He
recorded the phrase again, but the second attempt was more or less the
same because he was incapable of singing piano. He was furious with
himself because he wanted to. He tried everything, but his technique
would not permit him to sing softly since it totally was based on the
muscles."
(From http://www.belcantosociety.org/pages/oliverodivas.html)
Armando
Valdagno, a little town in the province of Vicenza. The local theatre
impresario asked Del Monaco if he would like to prepare the role with
Giordano and this he did.
I'm not aware of the old boy having anointed him as the ideal Chenier,
but he did give him a photo of himself (a fairly standard practice)
with written on it "To my dear Chenier from, Umberto Giordano."
Mind you, in 1945, Del Monaco was no-where near the blaster he was to
become later.
The voice was considerably lighter, so light in fact that two years
earlier he had sung the tenor lead in L'Amico Fritz ?! And in 1945,
the same year as Chenier, he sang the Duke in Rigoletto. Del Monaco
himself admitted that he was not successful in the lyric repertoire,
that he panicked, and decided to build a trumpeting voice based on the
Melocchi method. The rest, as they say, is history.
It was probably Hedda Hopper who was responsible for MGM testing him
for The Student Prince. Del Monaco liked to boast that Hopper had
written in her syndicated column "Hollywood should not lose the
opportunity of signing Mario Del Monaco who has a profile like Tyrone
Power."
Indeed, if Lanza had possessed an ounce of MDM's egotism, he might still be
alive.
Of course, a truly great artist, or a reasonably sane one, would
never proclaim himself the greatest, dismiss his contemporaries by
stating "All my colleagues (that matter) are dead" or revealing his
plain envy when asked what he though about Lanza being given a medal
with the profile of Caruso on one side and Lanza on the other. Del
Monaco's pathetic reply "Every medal has a reverse side."
Lou
Del Monaco is the recollection of a long-time fan who attended Del
Monaco's master class in his villa, where the fan saw a framed program
of an early appearance in Andrea Chenier on which was inscribed "To
the only Chenier" and signed by Giordano. (Here's the link:
http://www.bonilogue.com/2006/01/01/mario-del-monaco/ ). But perhaps
this, too, like the composer's inscribed photograph mentioned by
Armando, was fairly standard practice.
Re MGM's testing of Del Monaco for The Student Prince, the fact that
he already had five Italian films to his credit might have reinforced
Hedda Hopper's endorsement.
Armando, I'd like to go back, if I may, to your comment about Del
Monaco's 1958 Otello. Based on the DVD liner note, the film's dark and
gloomy atmosphere is designed to evoke the impending tragedy, though,
I'm sure, not to the extent that one can see only Del Monaco's eyes.
The Hardy Classic DVD that I have is taken from the original RAI film
and is generally clear compared with other, older video versions.
Perhaps I'm just too easy to please, but I get the sense that,
incredible as it may seem, Del Monaco tends to underplay his
performance in this film. For comparison, I also viewed Domingo's
1976 Otello, which is supposed to be an outstanding performance, and I
found his acting and singing comparatively more bombastic and over the
top. (I may be putting my foot in my mouth here, so I hasten to
invoke my favorite cop-out, "there's no accounting for taste."
Having said that, I must admit that, based on the YouTube clips shared
by Derek, the fabulous one is more than a bit touched. (I wonder
whether he pleaded temporary insanity to the charge of exposing
himself repeatedly to his 15-year-old niece.) But then again, isn't
there supposed to be a fine line between genius and madness?
Armando
got a bit carried away as I doubt whether Giordano would have given
Del Monaco two photos with almost identical inscriptions. The one
shown in the massive biography by Elisabetta Romagnolo is inscribed
"To my dear Chenier."
Re MGM and The Student Prince, The only film they or Hopper could
possibly have seen him in is The Man in the Grey Glove, made in 1948
and released in America in 1953. It's a crime, who done-it in which
Del Monaco, who plays a nightclub singer has the third lead. In all
his other films, with the exception of a small part in Guai ai Vinti
(1955) and a non singing role in First Love (1978) he either appeared
only in some operatic scenes or provided his singing voice for another
actor.
I'll take another look at both the 1958 Otello and the 1954 Chenier,
however, based on everything else that I have seen of his I can only
say that I find his acting utterly ridiculous. I don't remember
Domingo's 1976 Otello, but I do consider his concept of the role in
his other performances outstanding.
As you say, "There's no accounting for taste."
jora...@comcast.net
check this out for hammy acting and over the top singing! Actually, I
kinda liked it!
Derek McGovern
He had an impressive upper register (better, in fact, than Del
Monaco's), but in my opinion it was never a particularly attractive voice.
Derek McGovern
Michael McAdam
Derek McGovern
Barnabas Nemeth
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