Callas redefined ideal of opera singer as actress
The recent reopening of Massey Hall, Toronto’s beloved “Grand Old Lady of Shuter Street,” after an extensive three-and-a-half-year renovation, uncorked a bottle of memories of artists great and small who trod its boards over almost 128 years.
Those memories include the night of Feb. 21, 1974, when the great opera diva Maria Callas returned to Toronto during her farewell tour.
Of course, it wasn’t her Toronto debut. That had taken place in the cavernous setting of Maple Leaf Gardens back on Oct. 21, 1958, when she was at the height of her fame.
And it wasn’t quite the same Maria Callas of 16 years earlier. Unwisely persuaded to emerge from retirement, partnered by Giuseppe Di Stefano, tenor co-star of some of her classic early recordings, she offered what almost amounted to a caricature of the artist she had been.
She was still an artist, but as I remarked in my Star review, “one always had to listen through the voice to the dramatic truth it expressed.” The truth was still there, even though the voice itself was no longer reliably obedient to the demands made of it.
She sang only three arias that night: “Suicidio!” from Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda”; “Voi lo sapete” from Mascagni’s “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “O mio babbino caro” from Puccini’s “Gianni Schicchi,” plus four duets with Di Stefano, who was reportedly indisposed and contributed only one solo.
Yet the recollection of that long ago concert remained in my memory when I planned a pre-Christmas December trip to Greece.
For it was to Athens that the New York-born soprano was sent by her Greek parents to study at the conservatory (her original name was Kalogeropoulou) with the near-legendary Elvira de Hidalgo, and it was there that she made her professional debut with the Greek National Opera in 1941.
No, her debut vehicle was not “Norma” or “Tosca,” signature roles of her later years. She appeared in a now little-known light opera by Franz von Suppé, “Boccaccio.” All the same, the Greek National Opera made good use of the promising young soprano, as a visitor to its former home quickly realizes.
The balcony level of the Olympia Theatre (now known as the Olympia Theatre Maria Callas) houses a salon, at one end of which can be found a display on Callas, including photographs, autographed scores and a portrait bust.
A recently unveiled commemorative monument can also be found near the foot of the Acropolis and fans can still see the apartment in which the student singer lived. But in 2017, the Greek National Opera vacated the modest 700-seat theatre that now bears her name for a handsome new home designed by the Italian celebrity architect Renzo Piano.
In this state-of-the-art venue, the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Cultural Center, I attended my first Greek operas: a children’s opera by George Dousis titled “The Magic Pillows,” and a full-scale grand opera by Georgos Koumendakis (now the company’s artistic director) titled “The Murderess” and starring the Greek-Canadian mezzo-soprano Mary-Ellen Nesi.
As these productions demonstrated, today’s Greek National Opera is a significant force on the European scene, its forthcoming productions including standard repertory operas by Gounod, Giordano, Puccini and Verdi as well as works by native Greek composers.
Though still the country’s only professional opera company, it represents an undertaking considerably larger in scale than the mostly domestic enterprise that provided Callas with a launching pad.
What the American economist Walt Rostow used to call preconditions for takeoff were supplied to her at the old conservatory, now housed in a more modern building, but retaining in its archives artifacts of Callas’s student years. I was even shown her report cards, autographed in a florid hand by di Hidalgo herself.
It is impossible to know whether another opera singer will have a comparable impact on her profession. Callas effectively redefined the ideal of an opera singer — once characterized by Rossini as embodying voice, voice, voice — as a singing actress.
Other singers of her generation, notably the Italian soprano Renata Tebaldi, may have had more beautiful voices. A few, such as Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, may have been more subtle interpreters.
What Callas had to a singular degree, her admirers would point out, is electricity. She could draw opera lovers into the role she was playing with extraordinary power.
Granted, the power in her generator had greatly diminished by that February night at Massey Hall. But here still was one of the sacred monsters.
The superstar operatic soprano of my generation was Australian’s Joan Sutherland, nicknamed by the Italians as La Stupenda. They called Maria Callas La Divina.
What Callas had to a singular degree, her admirers would point out, is electricity. She could draw opera lovers into the role she was playing with extraordinary power