Customer Reviews

Franco Corelli: Prince of Tenors

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Rene Seghers must possess that rare charm that allows one to magically walk through doors long sealed, or perhaps luck and timing with persistence granted him favor with Corelli's family, friends and the institutions that opened their archives to him.

At last, a short time after Corelli's passing, his family agreed to share their story, pictures, and even private recordings made in his student days (not available with the book). Seghers provides Corelli's family-tree and all vital statistics; we learn that Franco was married in January 1961 just days before his New York debut, yet Loretta had been his shadow and constant companion since 1952. Among the book's numerous strengths are the copious b/w snapshots (several shirtless) and many photographs of Corelli in costume from early productions.

Seghers has turned over rocks discovering treasure and kitsch where most would never venture to tread -- in the latter category, a musical appearance in the 1956 Italian feature-film: "Suprema confessione"; and perhaps most amusing, a series of pictorial novellas made for an Italian magazine as late as 1960 and 1962. Hardly a page is turned without discovering something of importance or interest.

The biography's great strength derives from (but is not limited to) an enormous amount of research in the archives of the Metropolitan Opera and EMI (Corelli's recording company). From these pillars an almost complete picture of the man and artist emerge representing all his triumphs, glory, petty harmful intrigue, and painful human failings. Seghers does not shy from damaging the idol when truth requires it, and the picture painted is of someone all too human.

The biography is strictly chronological, the English flows freely, the text is beautifully printed, and virtually every paragrah has notes describing the sources (usually original). We could probably do without the poorer quality color photographs in the center of the book (and cover), but the many black/white images leave one yearning for even more. There are slight problems with some performance dates and the chronological sequence, but the overwhelming quality and breadth of the research make this work exciting and magnificent.

This is an absolutely fascinating biography. I can't imagine any other treatment that would be so open and comprehensive, and it answers many questions we old "Corelliacs" have had over the years. I knew someone who knew him fairly well, and much of what that person told me was confirmed in this book. I know a little bit more, but I'll keep it to myself! Anyway, I don't think Franco Corelli comes across in this book as arrogant in "real life" as is often described by his detractors. From what I've heard, he was rather shy and contemplative. He did not take praise easily, and treated his fans with respect, even his overly passionate female fans. He could appear prideful, but only regarding his hard-won accomplishments. It was especially enlightening to read of how much he worked on his technique over the years and how serious he was about his singing. In the 1960s, he had a amazingly difficult Met schedule, with the "spring season" and the US tours. An added treat in this book was seeing his "comic books" again, which my friend didn't allow me to read or even touch. BTW, there is a strange mistake that I've found in the book and that is in the author's reference to the Met record album containing pieces of the old Met curtain and that is the recordings in this album (titled "Opening Nights at the Met") are not of the final night of the original house, they are old recordings of star singers dating back to the ancient cylinders in the Met archives. The author left out San Francisco and Los Angeles/Pasadena appearances. I was fortunate to be at his last concert, in New Jersey. He even sang to us fans in the first row: "vecchie fanciulle" he sang, and gave us a big grin. We couldn't have Corelli forever, but we remember him both fondly and with great passion.

I highly recommend this book for all opera lovers and especially for those who loved Corelli. Mr. Seghers lets us peek behind the curtains of the grand opera stage to see for ourselves the difficult day to day business of placating the divos and divas of Corelli's era especially the man for whom the book was written. His life is chronicled from birth to death, we learn about the family and city he loved and most of all, his relationship with the woman who lived for him.

As a result of reading this book I have more appreciation for the man who gave us so much thrilling and beautiful music despite his insecurities and personal problems. I hope more readers will come forth to share their delight with this book and give Mr. Seghers the credit he deserves.

This rating should read four and a half stars.

What attracted me to this work was a small passage in the Epilogue I read at random on-line (through Amazon) in which the author mentions a certain work Franco Corelli recorded with his wife in the mid 50s. He singles out this particular recording as exemplifying not only the talent of Corelli at his very best, but also the mysterious emotional intensity il principe di tenori put into his expression that made him such a powerful and haunting singer. I say "mysterious" because the very reserved, very private Corelli remains something of a mystery and one can only "find" him in his music--especially in a work as discussed in this one section of the book. I, too, have heard that recording and was deeply struck by it the first time I heard it (and every time since). It was in reading this small passage that M. Seghers then and there"clicked" for me: I knew immediately that I would like his book. I most certainly did. In the last several years I have read memoirs by Alfred Brendel, Birgit Nilsson and the biography of Herbert von Karajan by Richard Osborne. I welcome this book with pride of place in my collection.

I have been a huge Corelli for many, many years. I was born in 1970; alas I never saw him in concert. Corelli is not only for me the tenor of all time Björling being my distant second favorite; Nilsson my favorite soprano), but I admire him as a man: courtly, reserved, intense. Having said that, I was somewhat wary at first before starting to read this book as what I most certainly did not want was a dirt-digging, kiss-and-tell type screed--the kind of thing that has been the style of most biographies of late (since at least the flakey nineties); nor was I terribly interested in learning about the cute in-and-outs of Corelli's quotidien life (brushing teeth, feeding the poodle) that others call "human" detail and what I consider the height of trite. In reading a biography about this or that great individual, what I really want to learn is what force of personality; what style of emotional endurance and committment to the subject's craft made for that extra "something" that left others in his or her wake. I wish to discover that certain "X" factor that makes the difference between talent and triumph. This book struck me as being written in this kind of vein and that is what kept me glued to its pages.

My four and a half stars are for the following:

1. A class act approach. The author comes across as a serious, mature professonal; he is naturally interested in but not obsessed with Corelli's private life. He puts certain issues in their proper context, gives what evidence is there to back up a claim or render it baseless, and then backs off. There is no leering, sneering suggestion or speculation; it is clear, just-the-facts-ma'am journalism--journalism at its very best, I mean. It is evident that the author appreciates excellence. He establishes a very strong foundation for Corelli-the-artist, describing in detail what made him so outstanding amidst his peers. The author does not feel the need, as so many poision-pen scribes seem to, to load up praise for his chosen subject matter with concomitant attempts to shoot that subject back down again for the sake of some artificial "balance". Having said that, the author never tipps the scales into breathless hero-worship. He criticizes Corelli where criticism is clearly due and treats educated dissent about Corelli's talents with respectful analysis . This equilibrium between enthusiasm and objective, just, at times even painful dissection of one's subject is very difficult for any non-fiction author to do, and this author masters it superlatively. Even the "minefields" are handled with tact. Questions about money, contracts, cancelling, "divo behavior", personality conflicts, backstage intrigue, etc are treated mainly as (important) secondary issues, which is what they are.

The author also puts the "infamous" Corelli incidents ('Manrico' on the warpath, the Nilsson "lovebite", Italy's favorite pair of thighs blah blah blah) on the sidelines where they belong and brings out aspects of Corelli that the newspaper obituary writers apparently missed. (Upon the event of Corelli's death in late 2003, such writers seemed to have cared only about these stupid aforementioned incidents). These more hidden aspects of Corelli's personality include: Corelli's serious dedication to his work, his level-headed view of the limelight and "fame"; his interest in obscure operas and promoting them; his courtesy to his fans, his cheering on of new talent, his courtly behavior towards Leontyne Price after JFK's assassination; his emotional reaction to Del Monaco's death; the care Corelli showed an envoy of the Metropolitan Opera to Italy when that representative was in a car accident; Corelli buying champagne for the crew of an opera after a wonderful evening performance; Corelli's self criticism; his constant study, his ceaseless quest to ever improve the training of his voice; his honorable attitude towards his wife...Whatever great pride he may have had (and why not?), there was a true gentleman of substance at the foundation .

2. Brisk, captivating writing style. It is my understanding that English is not the author's first language. Of course, to that my fellow Americans will say: But so what? No one speaks Dutch! Still, it is nearly flawless writing, with the occasional, charming "European" flourish-of-phrase here and there that betrays the author's educated Continental heritage. It is lyrical, bel canto writing; it is "light"-- not in the sense of a lack of substance, but in terms of clarity and pace. The narrative is orderly, written in a chronological style that was much appreciated by this reader. Dates and places do not shift constantly. I have read "top" biographies that jumped from year to year and back on a single page, in such a chaotic way that one didn't know what decade, let alone year, it was. The author also avoided what many biographers fall prey to, and that is a tendency to write a would-be novel under the cloak of a non-fiction storyline. The author does not indulge in heavy-handed literary ostentation; there are no overly dramatic embellishments setting the stage for Corelli's frayed nerves/pride-vanity-ego/merciless self-criticism/fights with Bing-Ghiringhelli-Del Monaco-everyone. The author goes anecdote by anecdote, weeding out the nonsense, presenting the facts to the best of his knowledge and with sober restraint. By "sober", I do not mean dull; rather, prose that is free of purplish overkill of typical soap-opera biographies

3. A diplomatic approach to La Question Loretta. Speaking of minefields, the author handles "views" about wife Loretta rather well, treating her with a gentleman's cordial distance, allowing for a couple of unavoidable eye-roller anecdotes along the way. It would have been a temptation for the author to have dived head first into exciting gossip about her reported Lady MacBeth-type money/power mongering but he is careful to discuss such controversies within their proper time, place and perspective. I like very much the author's style of mentioning "Incident ABC", and then getting on with it. For example, in one anecdote, a friend visiting the Corellis at their apartment in New York after the pair had dinner, notices what might have been traces of spagehetti and/or its sauce on the wall. Amusing in its way, also perhaps somewhat troubling. But the author leaves it at that, allowing the reader to complete the rest for him/herself. "Draw your own conclusions", the author seems to say. "Fights, catfights--no doubt many. I'm moving on to more interesting things". This combination of the author "allowing" a peek into Corelli's (deeply guarded) private life but not tolerating barging-in at full force is a refreshing journalistic style, particularly in today's let-it-all-hang-out culture. Also, the inclusion of some of Loretta's recipes, some of which were featured in the famous "Bel Canto Cookbook" that the Metropolitan Opera published in the 60s, are a charming touch, one or two of which I am tempted to try)

4. Knows when to call a spade a spade. Though the overall tone of the book is diplomatic, the author also knows when to deliver a punch or two. He will tell you when a rumor is pure bunk. He will tell you when a performance is particularly excellent and why. He will tell you when Corelli has not had his best evening (rare as those seemed to be--!) and why. He will tell you when his subject matter has overstepped boundaries of professional/financial tact and why; he will tell you when FC had a legitimate reason to overstep them. I like the conviction behind this kind of writing. For example, in a paragraph concerning a cancellation at the San Fransico opera (page 326), the author writes: "With San Fransisco, Corelli chalked up another mark on his reputation for last-minute cancellations. On the whole this was undeserved: he rarely canceled and had more than once saved the day when colleagues fell ill. But as with Callas, audiences lined up for days in advance for "Mr. Sold out", paying whatever they had to. His cancellations were therefore the ones that were remembered". This is a typical example of the careful nature of the writing throughout the book.

These are the main outstanding features about this book. Now, just a few quips that made me deduct a "half" of a star:

1. On page 272, the author writes: "The Voce del Caprone joke was already something [Corelli] planned to avenge, but after the Ugonotti insult, he was not going to do anything until he had Del Monaco's balls". Aber, bitte. That kind of writing doesn't belong in a book like this.

2. The following I found rather unclear: On page 310, in a paragraph about the confusion and possible false advertising for a Corelli concert in Moscow, the author writes: "[Corelli] was due to sing Calaf in the Soviet captial on August 8, but when the Milanese arrived on the square in front of the Bolshoi, their undisputed star tenor was absent". Does the author mean when the Moscovites arrived on the square....? Or did the passionate Milanese go so far as Moscow to hear their beloved tenor?

3. On page 319, the author writes: "Worse yet, word had reached [Corelli] that Callas and Michael Glotz (whom he now counted among his mortal enemies) had obtained a large number of seats for Callas's claque at the scheduled Callas-Corelli Tosca at the Met...". The paranthetical remark is written in a way that it sound as if both Callas and Glotz became Corelli's "mortal enemies", though I think the author means just Glotz. (This was the result of a bad recording session with Callas at the EMI recording studios under the direction of conductor George Pretre). Callas and Corelli were very fond of each other, very respecteful, so I would have liked this passage to have been more clear.

4. There may be one too many exclamation points throughout the narrative, but this is a minor grudge....

5. The photo at the end. Corelli looks lost, blank and uncomfortable; unhappy and disoriented. I do not agree with the author that he look "serene". Also, the men with him--I am sure caring and kind gentlemen--look too boorish, too rough next to Corelli's "still" elegant posture. The photo is not the kind of image that I thought fitting to "end" the story of Corelli's life. I know, I know ....the author had to show "reality" and, of course, age happens. Corelli's looks could not have stayed frozen in time capturing him at the peak of his golden age hey-day. But......we Corellians are romantics and, well, I would have liked the book to have closed on more of a high note (can't resist the lame cliche here). At the very least, a superb photo at the end, one that truly reflected Corelli's intense personality and artistic essence in the manner of a tribute, might have been more appropriate....

6. The "major" aspect of my half-star concerns the book's altogether incomplete portrait of Corelli, though I must rush a disclaimer in here to say that this particular criticism is quite a qualified one. I deducted a half-star and not a full star because the author does admit, at the end of the book, that cracking the nut and breaking the code of his subject eluded even him, the dedicated biographer, in the end. Perhaps it should be that way; perhaps we would lose something of the enigmatic appeal of FC if the private man were to be made too public. Most importantly, in fairness to the author on this point, I believe he wanted to avoid the tendency to "psychologize" his subject, which, again, many modern biographers indulge and almost always for the worse. I cannot help but add, however, that I wanted to learn a bit more about the introspective, philosophical nature of Corelli, examples of which came through in certain translated excerpts of interviews Corelli gave to the Italian press over the years. I would like to have seen more of these kinds of articles. Also, it is not as if the author "failed" at providing any glimpse at the inner nature of Corelli: there are a couple of excellent passages in the book in which the author demonstrates confident understanding of his subject, particularly pages 229 and 245. More sections like this would have been most welcome by this reader.

All in all, a wonderful work, with wonderful photos (the photo on page 371 is worth the price of the book alone). I wish M. Seghers the very best success with it.

This is a wonderful very interesting book about maybe the biggest tenor of the fifties and sixties (and there were many great singers in that time).
This book is very well written and has a lot of interesting pictures. It is a 'must' for all Corelli fans to have it. There are many details about the private life of the tenor near a lot of informations of his big singing.
Rating A.

I have seen Pavarotti live many times - I forget just how many. I saw Corelli live just twice. I could never forget.

For those who don't know or remember Corelli let me hasten to mention that he was considered the greatest tenor of all time. Caruso was voted third.

Pavarotti had a wonderful voice of course but for some of us he was always a little distasteful. With his enormous bulk he encouraged the public to laugh at classical music and opera. Pavarotti couldn't read music and learned his roles very slowly, if at all. He made opera haters love him because he reinforced their prejudice that opera was a freak show. Every man might wish to sound like Pavarotti but no one wanted to look like him.

Corelli was different - much different. Every man wanted to look like him. He was typically described as looking like a god. He was tall with broad sholders and a narrow waist. If Clark Gabel had been a bit taller he might have been able to play Franco Corelli.

Then there was the voice. Pavarotti was a middle weight. Corelli was a heavy weight or dramatic tenor. Much of this difference is simply volume. Corelli had a much bigger voice that Pavarotti, but some of the difference is also color, range and roles undertaken. Many dramatic tenors have a short top. Jon Vickers and Lauritz Melchiore for example didn't sing high Cs. Corelli did. He had a kind of baritonal sound like most dramatics but he sang many romantic lyric roles because he had the range and the looks. In the theater Pavarotti voice was admirable but Corelli's voice just grabbed you and lifted you out of your seat.

This book is a must read for any opera lover or would be opera lover. Not only was Corelli an electrifying performer he was a bit of a kook. He was dominated by his wife yet he was a man's man. He got in a lot of fist fights. If you booed him he was likely to jump off the stage and try to punch you out. He had serious stage fright but on stage he often chewed up the scenery. He seemed elemental and instinctive but he actually spent most of his life in study. We think of dumb Italian tenors like Pavarotti who needed months to learn a role. Corelli typically learned new roles without a coach in a week. He was hounded by women everywhere he went but was reclusive and faithful to his wife. He was personally shy and and retiring but on stage he often pushed the soprano back so he could get to the footlights.

Corelli was a true mass of contradictions.

On page 424, M.Seghers lists Tito Capobianco as the director of Corelli's poor film of "Andrea Chenier." That is incorrect; the director was Vaclav Kaslik.

Before the realizing of this book, I did send an e-mail to René Seghers asking why never anybody tell about the concert of Franco Corelli in México?, and he kindly answer that he didn't have any information of Corelli in México. So I offered to send all I have of that historical concert: the program, reviews, the ticket and a couple of selections of a tape recording taken in the theatre by my father, and to prepare a telephone interview with Mrs. Gilda Morelli who was (along with Rómulo Ramírez Esteva) the responsible to prepare all for that performance. So for me and for my father was a great pleasure to collaborate with Mr. Seghers and to render homage to our favourite tenor of history.

I just still waiting for my Autographed book by Mr. Seghers.

Juan José Arias Jr.

Thanks to René Seghers we know more about Franco Corelli the artist and above all the man! This is a true work of love! Now let's hope the next promised titles, including a photobook, will be released soon!

This biography of tenor Franco Corelli, written by René Seghers, is thoroughly researched and documented with complete references and notes referring to each chapter at the back of the book. I liked very much the presentation of a chronological sequence of his life and career from beginning at his birth in Ancona, 1921 to his death in Milan, 2003. The book has many personal photographs of Corelli throughout each chapter and a section of color photos in the middle. His lifelong companion and wife, Loretta helped keep Franco on course with his singing obligations and she helped to steady his nerves with various pre-performance rituals, some of them bizarrely superstitious and pseudo-religious. Corelli is shown to be a man with a powerful dramatic voice which he used with passionate intensity. Many recording projects with EMI came to nothing because of his strong preferences and dislikes of certain conductors and/or fellow singers. His habit of stretching out his high notes and playing freely with rubato was not to every conductor's taste, making some working relationships difficult. Projects were planned but then abandoned. As a result there are not very many complete opera studio recordings of his voice compared to his arch-rival Mario Del Monaco. Corelli's career at La Scala and the Metropolitan was long and distinguished. Rudolf Bing treasured Corelli and catered to him as perhaps his favorite singer, allowing him to bring his pet poodle along on the many Met tours around the USA. Known as one of the few singers who could guarantee a sold-out house, he could command the highest fees of his time and was shrewd to do so. In the end what mattered most was his magnificent, passionate voice with which he was so generous. "Night after night Corelli brought one character after another to life onstage, clothing them in vivid, visceral flesh and blood, while leaving the real and private Franco behind in the dressing room. The voice was rich in shades of copper with gilded highlights, brilliant on top, burnished and baritonal on the bottom, warm, luscious, and squillante; the expression desperate, impassioned, and deeply moving."