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Callas – Paris 1958

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This newly restored film of the famous Paris Gala Concert is playing in cinemas around the world over the next couple of months and I caught up with at the weekend.

First a word about the provenance of the present release. In the words of the producer, Tom Volf,

the newly discovered 16 mm reels were those belonging to Callas herself, most probably brought by her & Meneghini from Paris; Having worked with the copies from INA (Institut national de l’audiovisuel) for Maria by Callas, when I found those reels (truly in a basement in Athens, kept for years by friends of Callas in boxes with other reels & tapes belonging to her – now all in Paris under the Callas Foundation) I immediately compared them to the INA versions, not believing myself that those ‘other’ 16 mm reels could be better than those preserved by INA, and to my astonishment they were indeed. Comparing the two sources side by side there was no doubt that the newly found ones were actually the original ones whilst those kept by INA were 16 mm copies, called in French “internégatif” a method commonly used in the late 50s and 60s before magnetic tapes. Therefore, what you will see in the upcoming film is as close as it gets to the original footage and the original performance. I have chosen to partner with the same team that undertook the colourisations for Maria by Callas, after I undertook myself for the newly found original reels to be digitised in 4K using the latest technologies available. The colorisation process took nearly two years as it was done frame by frame and based on all original colour photographs in our archives, plus first hand testimonies of people who had attended (some of them are still alive fortunately). The result intended was for the audiences of 2023 to be immersed in that unique evening and to see it with their own eyes as if they were there – and as we see in colour in real life, this was the reason for undertaking this challenging work, with, I believe, an astonishing result.

Certainly I am happy to report that it looks a lot better than any release I have seen up to this date. Long shots are still a little blurry but close-ups come up with a new clarity that has to be seen to be believed and it was quite a thrill to see Callas looking so fabulous up there on the big screen. The sound is astonishingly clear as well, though I’m willing to bet that some of her more piercing high notes were less so in the theatre. The colourisation was, for the most part, subtly and beautifully done, but I do question whether her eyeshadow would have been quite that shade of bright blue. What is remarkable to see in close-up is her concentration, her intensity and those eyes….! So expressive. At no point was she just a singer singing an aria. Whether in the concert of the first half or in the fully staged Tosca of the second part, she was always completely inside the character she was portraying.

In places you can tell that the concert was hastily put together and sketchily rehearsed. Apparently when Callas arrived at the first rehearsal, the scene was quite chaotic with nobody taking charge of proceedings. She quickly put Gobbi in charge and he basically directed the whole thing. Still, he couldn’t prevent a wong entry by the chorus in Casta diva, which Callas corrects herself with an imperious gesture of her right hand. She was not in her best voice and in the Trovatore the top notes are a little strained and tense. Still, this strikes me as  the most impressive section of this first half, her phrasing wonderfuly elastic and her sense of Verdian style unparalleled. She moves very little, but when she does, such as a sudden turn of her head when she hears the monks singing, she immediately arrests attention and her eyes are unforgettable.

This first half ends with a wonderfully characterful Rosina, singing Una voce poco from Il Barbiere di Siviglia. The explosive way she sings the single word ma and the expression that goes with it says more about the character than many a singer manages in the whole aria. This Rosina is sweet and gentle, but a real viper when crossed. She is more relaxed here too and her smile when she acknowledges the tumultuous reception at the end, positively radiant.

When it comes to the second act of Tosca, I will say straight away that I prefer the Covent Garden performance of 1964. She may be in better voice here in 1958, but the Covent Garden performance was from a thoroughly rehearsed and meticulously prepared production where this one was thrown together specifically for this event. Gobbi obviously did what he could to direct in the time available to them, but the acting and rapport between these two singers reaches even greater heights at Covent Garden. Vissi d’arte loses some of its impact by the fact that she starts it upstage and the camera doesn’t hone in on her as it does at Covent Garden. Though I thought she looked very beautiful in some of the close-ups, she is more becomingly costumed at Covent Garden too. Albert Lance is actually quite impressive vocally, as he is off stage in the Trovatore, but he overacts like mad.

The cinema, when I went, was depressingly empty and I was one of about a dozen in the auditorium, most, like me, sitting on their own and most of a similar age. I found that rather sad.

A friend of mine went to see it in a cinema near where she lives. She told me she has had had a fascination with Callas since childhood, though she had never seen the concert in any form before. She was totally knocked out so I guess you could say the film certainly makes its impact.

I assume it will come out on DVD or BluRay at some point, but if you can get to see it in the cinema, I would definitely go. It is a fitting tribute on her 100th birthday and we are lucky that it has now been made available to a wider public in much improved sound and vision.

What next? Dare we hope that there is a pristine copy of the Covent Garden Tosca Act II locked away in the vaults somewhere?

For showings, check out https://mariacallas.film/

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Maria Meneghini Callas Sings Operatic Arias

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Recorded 17-18, 20-21 September 1954, Watford Town Hall, London

Producer: Walter Legge, Balance Engineer: Robert Beckett

This recital, the second Callas recorded for EMI, was designed to show off her versatility, so we get one side of verismo, and one of coloratura, with Boito’s L’altra notte from Mefistofele bridging the gap. It caused quite a stir at the time. The coloratura side was of material more associated with singers like Galli-Curci and Pagliughi; the verismo items more likely to be the preserve of Ponselle and Muzio, or Callas’s contemporary, Tebaldi. There is no doubt that Tebaldi could not have attempted any of the coloratura items on the disc and the gauntlet was effectively laid down. The range too is phenomenal, and takes her up to a high E natural (in the Vespri aria, and the Bell Song), a note unthinkable from a soprano who could bring the power she does to an aria like La mamma morta.

Of the operas represented, Callas had only sung Mefistofele and I Vespri Siciliani on stage at that time, though she would go on to sing Rosina in Il Barbiere di Siviglia (and make a very successful studio recording) and Maddalena in Andrea Chenier. But, as is her wont, even in isolation, Callas is able to enter fully into the character and sound world of each character that she is singing.

She starts with two of Adrianna’s solos from Adrianna Lecouvreur, a role that would no doubt have suited her dramatic gifts down to the ground, though, truth to tell, the opera is pretty tawdry stuff. I have the recording with Scotto and Domingo, who make the very best case for it, but I still have little time for it. That said, Callas is brilliant at conveying Adrianna’s humility in the first aria, her pain and sadness in the second. Her recording of La mamma morta is well known, and became quite a hit after it was featured in the Tom Hanks Oscar winning movie Philadelphia. Notable is the way Callas’s tone colour matches that of the cello in the opening bars, and the way she carefully charts its mounting rapture. Some may prefer a richer, fuller sound. None have sung it with such intensity.

Ebben ne andro lontana, a glorious performances, is full of aching loneliness, its climax solid as a rock, but the prize of this first side is without doubt the crepuscular beauty of Margherita’s L’altra notte from Boito’s Mefistofele, a sort of mini mad scene, which Callas fills with a wealth of colour and imagination. One notes the blank, colourless tone at L’aura e fredda, even more drained and hopeless on its repeat, the baleful sound of her chest voice on E la mesta anima mia; and does any other singer so accurately encompass those coloratura flights of fancy as her soul takes wing on Vola, vola? This is the stuff of genius.

The second side also has its attractions. Rosina’s Una voce poco fa is a mite slower than it was to become in the studio set, but Callas’s ideas on the character are perfectly formed, and she already uses that explosive Ma to underline Rosina’s less than docile temperament. Her runs, scales and fioriture are as elastic as ever, and the little turns on the final faro giocar have to be heard to be believed.

The Dinorah aria is a rather empty piece and I sometimes wonder why she even bothered with it. There are some magical echo effects and her singing is wonderfully fleet and accurate, but it’s not a favourite of mine. I’m not a big fan of the Bell Song either, to be honest. Callas lavishes possibly more attention on it than it’s worth, but in so doing at least makes it a little more interesting than the birdlike warblings we usually get. The opening has a mesmeric , almost improvisational air about it, and the bell imitations are clear and true. I remember once playing this track at a friend’s place one summer evening, the window open, while a bird (I have no idea what it was) sang for all its worth on a branch just outside.  It was as if the bird was singing in response. The high E she sings at its climax is clean as a whistle, but it does sound like the very extreme of her range. Best of all the coloratura items is her breezy, elegantly sung Merce, dilette amiche from Verdi’s I Vespri Siciliani, which is lovely in every way and ends on another epic high E.