Note: The following is a transcript of a speech given by Armando Cesari, author of Mario Lanza: An American Tragedy (Baskerville, 2004), in Melbourne, Australia in May 2004.
The questions I'm most often asked are: "What made you write a book on Mario Lanza?" and "Why the title 'An American Tragedy?' " The answer to the former is really quite simple. There are two main reasons, actually -- the first is to play tribute to a great voice and a great talent. The second -- and more important one -- is to set the record straight by dispelling the myths, falsehoods, distortions, and exaggerations that have been perpetuated about Lanza over more than 50 years.
I thought the title An American Tragedy was appropriate, as it was indeed a tragedy that a talent of such magnitude was destined to remain unfulfilled.
"Yes, but why Lanza," you may ask, "as opposed to other great operatic singers, or for that matter film idols of the 50s?"
What was it about Lanza that set him apart---that made him stand out? Why is it that he has been able to influence entire generations of up-and-coming opera singers? And why is he still listened to and talked about more than forty years after his premature death?
The voice, of course! But it was more than just an exceptionally beautiful voice.
As well as the voice, Lanza possessed all of the attributes that make a great singer: a solid technique combined with expression, perfect diction, and a feeling for the lyrics that made even the simplest of songs come alive.
He had, in effect, all that is required for a great operatic career. Yet today Lanza is remembered essentially as a movie star and, in particular, for The Student Prince -- a film in which he didn't even appear and for which he only provided his singing voice for the soundtrack.
What was it about Lanza that set him apart--that made him stand out?
The voice, of course! But it was more than just an exceptionally beautiful voice.
So what happened? Why did Lanza end up making movies in Hollywood instead of conquering the operatic stage?
We will examine this shortly, but first I thought that I should give you a little background about myself and how the book came to be.
Why Write the Book?
I discovered Mario Lanza in my teens. Music played a significant part in my family. My father, who died when I was two, played the violin, piano, and clarinet, so music and opera formed a natural part of our lives. The radio was always on and music (mainly operatic) was constantly being heard in the background. I would hear my mother and grandparents discussing various operas and opera singers, but at that stage I was mainly concerned with sport and didn't pay much attention to them.
It was not until a few years later that I discovered Lanza.
My uncle had a large collection of operatic records that included many tenors such as Caruso, Gigli, Bjorling, Schipa, Di Stefano and Lanza. The records were all 78s, so they were breakable, but my uncle knew I was careful in handling them and would let me play them. (I must confess that I did break one. It was a 12 inch record of Caruso and it really upset my uncle, but he forgave me and I was able to resume my record playing.)
I played all the records, not just tenors, but sopranos, baritones, mezzos and so on, but somehow I kept going back to Lanza. My mother was curious as to why I kept listening to Lanza more than the other singers. I remember telling her that apart from the beauty of his voice, I felt that his singing communicated something to me that the others didn't.
I didn't know it at the time, but what Lanza had in abundance is known as artistic temperament. He had an incredible feeling for the music and the lyrics, and he was able to transmit this to the listener who, in turn, responded to his message.
There are many singers with beautiful voices and great technique that are nevertheless dull because they lack interpretation. Lanza was exciting.
Artistic temperament is not something that can be learned or acquired. It's not something that can be learned from a teacher. Nor can you go to a doctor and ask him to give it to you in the form of a pill or injection. Artistic temperament is something a singer is born with. It's the essence of a truly great singer.
So I was hooked. I remember that after seeing The Toast of New Orleans, my mother commented: "He not only has a wonderful voice but I've never seen such a good looking tenor!"
I started to follow Lanza's career, bought his records, saw his movies. In short I became some sort of an expert. But although I knew a lot about him, it was not sufficient to write a biography.
In my opinion, the principal aim of every biographer should be to do justice to his subject. This can only be done by researching the subject thoroughly and by telling the truth. Telling the truth in Mario Lanza's case is particularly important as the amount of trash that has been written about him could probably fill this room.
Lanza with Rita Moreno, 1950
One so-called biographer, for example, quotes a second-rate conductor stating that he couldn't teach Lanza the tenor part in Beethoven's Ninth Symphony in the allotted time of five weeks. He claims that it was just too complex for Lanza to learn.
Well, the tenor part in Beethoven's Ninth consists of the solo, which is less than a minute long and not at all difficult to sing, and a few bars in ensemble.
Had this so-called biographer done his homework, or understood anything about singing, he would have avoided making a fool of himself by writing such nonsense.
So in order to do justice to my subject, I set out over a period spanning almost 30 years to interview as many of the people associated with Lanza as possible in America, Italy, and England. I also obtained all the information I could from libraries, family documents, etc.
The Artist and Hollywood
There's really no need to invent or exaggerate anything because, ultimately, Lanza's story is indeed a tragic one.
Because of his involvement with Hollywood, Lanza was never taken seriously either by the majority of the so-called music critics or by the musicals snobs, who looked down their noses at a singer of operatic capabilities who was making films, and very successfully, in Hollywood.
The so-called connoisseurs are the very ones who later criticized The Three Tenors' concerts as cheap entertainment for the masses. But The Three Tenors, just as Lanza before them, helped to popularize opera -- to bring it to people who had never heard an aria, let alone an opera.
The notion that someone commercially successful cannot be classified as an artist is absurd -- whoever said this had to be? Therefore the question has to be asked: Why did Lanza go to Hollywood, as opposed to the Metropolitan, La Scala or Covent Garden? The answer as to why he signed an MGM contract is really quite simple. They offered him a fortune. Lanza also had the good looks, personality and charisma that are seldom, if ever, found in an operatic singer. MGM saw his great movie potential, made him an offer he couldn't refuse, and for Lanza it was the beginning of the end.
At a time when he was averaging 300 dollars per concert (the top fee at the Metropolitan was 1000 dollars (paid only to a few select singers), MGM offered Lanza an initial salary of 750 dollars per week plus a bonus of 10,000 dollars for signing a seven-year contract. They also stipulated that he would be paid 25,000 dollars for his first film, $50,000 for the second and $100,000 for the third.
There's really no need to invent or exaggerate anything because, ultimately, Lanza's story is indeed a tragic one.
There was nothing new in having opera singers appear in films. From Farrar and Caruso -- right down to Pavarotti -- there's a never-ending list of operatic singers who have been enticed to make films by the huge sums of money offered and the prospects of reaching a wider audience.
However, there was one major difference. Unlike Lanza, they were all established opera singers. Lanza was not. They were fairly secure and settled in their respective careers. Lanza, on the other hand, was only starting out -- he was on the threshold of an operatic career when Hollywood beckoned.