BocelliOnline

[Melodie]

FROM THE NJ STAR-LEDGER:

PAVAROTTI BEGINS HIS FINAL BOWS AT THE MET

Monday, March 08, 2004

BY WILLA J. CONRAD
Star-Ledger Staff

Saturday's performance by tenor Luciano Pavarotti at the Metropolitan Opera, the first of three final appearances in a full-length opera he's scheduled there as his farewell to the stage, had much more sweetness than sorrow to it. This was a lovefest, in which an eager, packed house gave him a one-minute ovation just for walking onstage to sing his first line as Cavaradossi in Puccini's "Tosca."

With arms thrown wide and the broad facial gestures that have always been Pavarotti's version of acting, the 68-year-old singer gave the audience what it wanted: A carefully marshaled performance that accentuated what is still strong in his singing (the high notes, the unbuttoned, bright and forward tone) and a hint of the naiveté and benevolent warmth of personality that made him such a beloved star. At his best beaming self, he even stood happily by at the end of Act One as Met general manager Joseph Volpe gave a speech edifying the 50-year career of small role specialist and tenor Charles Anthony, who sings Spoletta in this production. Officially, this was Anthony's night to shine. Pavarotti's farewell will come next week and the goodwill and lack of tension on stage was frankly edifying.

In short, it was the beginning of a graceful public ending to Pavarotti's long and illustrious opera career, one that just a few years ago seemed in danger of closing bitterly with abruptly cancelled appearances and disappointed fans. He most certainly will continue singing in shorter concerts and on recordings, but, unofficially, it's understood that the rigors of two and three-hour opera performances are no longer possible.

Perhaps some of the audience joy was that the tenor had made it at all. Famous throughout his 40-plus year career for canceling at the last minute, Pavarotti never even got to the hall the last time he was scheduled to sing two years ago. Perhaps some of the applause was for the slight improvement in his mobility. After several orthopedic surgeries, including a hip replacement, simply walking across the stage without assistance is an effort now.

"This is the last chance to hear the big guy," one audience member was overheard to say before the opera began. "They could bring him out on a stretcher, I wouldn't care."

That seemed to sum up the fan devotion of the evening, a good thing, since the tenor stood or walked only briefly before resting on strategically placed benches or, most often, on co-star Carol Vaness' shoulder. His final Tosca, she sang persuasively and with a rich, rolling sound, but more importantly, headed up a skilled, mostly middle-age cast (including the dynamically evil Samuel Ramey as Scarpia and delightfully curmudgeonly Paul Plishka as the Sacristan) seemingly determined to help the tenor appear in his best light while preserving the integrity of the drama.

Pavarotti doesn't so much inhabit a character as apply the sunny glory of one of the most unique voices in opera to the most enduring stage literature of the genre. Cavaradossi, one of his signature roles, was a good farewell choice. It offers beloved melodies and a stirring final death scene, all written in the best vocal range for his light, lirico sound. The Met's old Zeffirelli set for "Tosca," with its over-the-top lavishness, seemed also appropriate for both the temperament and purpose of this production.

There is no question that Pavarotti's voice is fading. The bright, spinning high notes are still there, but much of the middle voice that supports it sounded faint and inflexible. He sang very carefully, often softening the volume and concentrating on shaping a phrase well rather than projecting it. It was touching to see how conductor and company director James Levine followed him in "E lucevan le stelle," the character's most important and famous aria in Act III, tamping down the orchestra's volume, pouncing with a swelling of strings when reinforcement was needed. As tenor Anthony said during his earlier speech accepting a self-drawn caricature by Enrico Caruso from 1903, Levine is "the young singer's best friend and also the old singer's best friend."

Here was a great example of what the Met, for all its bureaucracy and institutional lavishness, can represent. An adored and important singer was gently placed in his best light, another aging tenor was tastefully toasted for 50 years of service, and Puccini's opera did not suffer from all the extracurricular implications of the night. Somehow, the operatic balance of emotions seemed just right.

http://www.nj.com/entertainment/ledger/index.ssf?/base/entertainment-1/107873709299840.xml

[Melodie]

FROM THE NY TIMES:

[Chang W. Lee, NY Times]

Pavarotti Showed Up! (He Sang Some, Too)

By ANTHONY TOMMASINI
Published: March 8, 2004

He came. He sang. He. . . .

Well, if Luciano Pavarotti did not exactly conquer on Saturday night at the Metropolitan Opera in Puccini's "Tosca," at least he came and he sang. That was more than enough for a houseful of excited fans, who turned up to urge him on, to pay tribute and simply to be there as Mr. Pavarotti, 68, made the first of three appearances as Cavaradossi, billed as his farewell performances to the Met.

The bar of expectations was very low following the debacle of two years ago, when Mr. Pavarotti was scheduled to sing two performances as Cavaradossi in what was to have been his all-but-official Met farewell. Though that event was hugely hyped, he failed to sing either performance, saying he had a bad cold. At the time Joseph Volpe, the general manager, who had unwisely encouraged Mr. Pavarotti to undertake these performances, came to his senses and announced that this beloved tenor would definitely come back to the Met for some type of farewell concert but would not appear in another staged performance.

The brouhaha must have been humiliating for Mr. Pavarotti. Clearly he felt he had something to prove. So Mr. Volpe relented. That Mr. Pavarotti showed up and got through Saturday's performance at all was his vindication.

So how did he do? There is an honored protocol for opera buffs and critics to give great artists a pass for their farewells, and Mr. Pavarotti has been one of the greatest vocal artists of our time. Still, he has invited comment with his sadly prolonged and hapless exit.

Physically he has never seemed heavier. Bad knees and bad hips have made him almost immobile. As he lumbered about the stage, sometimes propped up by his Tosca, the soprano Carol Vaness, you wondered why he was subjecting himself to the ordeal of a staged performance.

When Cavaradossi is shot by a firing squad at the end of the opera, poor Mr. Pavarotti had to sink slowly into a pile of beanbags, bracing his fall with his arms outstretched.

Vocally, once in a while there was a flash of that incomparable Pavarotti sound, a supplely shaped legato phrase, a honeyed pianissimo. He roused himself for a couple of ringing cries of "Vittoria! Vittoria!" in Act II. But after sending the sustained high note into the balconies, his voice essentially gave out for the rest of Cavaradossi's outburst against the villainous Scarpia, the bass Samuel Ramey.

In his prime Mr. Pavarotti was no one's idea of a keenly intelligent singer. But he had an instinctive musicality, enormous vocal charisma and abundant energy. So it was sad to hear him with such diminished energy on this occasion. It took so much concentration for Mr. Pavarotti simply to make his voice work that he essentially left matters of rhythm and pacing to chance. The conductor, James Levine, and the responsive Met Orchestra earned their pay on Saturday trying to follow Mr. Pavarotti, waiting for him to catch up, or fast-forwarding when he jumped a beat. It's always hard for a major singer to know when to stop. Leontyne Price retired from the operatic stage in 1985 at 58 in a performance of "Aida" at the Met that proved she could still really sing the role. But by choosing to give up staged opera she extended her concert career for a good 10 years.

Mr. Pavarotti had already been having vocal troubles when he rallied in 1998 for a gala performance at the Met to celebrate his 30th anniversary. He had lost nearly 70 pounds and had worked hard to get in vocal shape. Though his voice that night was a little underpowered, he essentially sounded great and performed with joy. It would have been an ideal time to take his leave from opera.

Speaking of longevity, there was a special ceremony on stage after Act I with Mr. Volpe presiding to honor the 50th anniversary to the day of the tenor Charles Anthony's Met debut. At 74 Mr. Anthony is still at it. But long ago he acknowledged his limits and started singing only small supporting roles, like Spoletta, his role on this night. It was quite moving to see him embraced by Mr. Pavarotti and hear his tribute to the other company members, all assembled onstage, including the "angels in the outfield," as he called the helpful stage crew.

As Tosca, Ms. Vaness sometimes sounded strident but sang with lots of fire. Mr. Ramey proved a vocally chilling Scarpia. But it would be unfair to judge either performance since to some degree everyone involved in this "Tosca" had to help Mr. Pavarotti get through this appearance.

Mr. Pavarotti's remaining performances in "Tosca" are on Wednesday and Saturday nights. The ovation for this one, though ardent, went on for only five minutes. Expect next Saturday's ovation, the real farewell, to be long and tumultuous. For his landmark career, his astounding singing and the sheer pleasure he has given millions, Mr. Pavarotti will deserve it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/08/arts/music/08TOSC.html?ex=1079413200&en;=383be7165350cfb0&ei;=5062&partner;=GOOGLE