I just re-watched the 'Callas Forever' DVD, and was somehow more incensed than when I first saw and dismissed it. There is nothing right about this catastrophe of a film.
One needs to know some background. In 1964, Franco Zeffirelli directed the brilliant but vocally depleted Callas in famous productions of TOSCA and NORMA at Covent Garden and the Paris Opera, her re-emergence on the opera stage after several years spent with Aristotle Onassis, their relationship having become strained. In late 1964, on the heels of these productions' success, Zeffirelli suggested a film of TOSCA, so Callas participated in a recording of what she believed to be the soundtrack for it on EMI (now issued by Warner Classics which bought the bankrupt EMI in the first decade of the 21st century). She also advanced Zeffirelli $10,000 for startup costs. Zeffirelli, however, had not done his homework, and soon discovered that the rights to film TOSCA had been acquired from its publisher, Ricordi, by conductor Herbert von Karajan, who insisted on conducting the film Zeffirelli planned to direct. Callas assumed she would use the soundtrack she had already recorded, conducted by Georges Pretre, her preferred conductor at the time, and refused to re-do it with Karajan, so the project collapsed. The EMI recording thus became her second, and unnecessary, TOSCA recording; the first was made in 1953, and is generally considered to be amongst the greatest opera recordings--though, interestingly, Callas disliked TOSCA. The 1964 recording is clearly a soundtrack, with all sorts of sound effects. She is in the poor voice of that period. When the project was derailed, she requested her $10,000 back from Zeffirelli but he had spent it and could not repay her. Having grown up poor and being very money-conscious, Callas was furious and ended her friendship with him. When she died of a heart attack at age 53 on 16 September 1977, Zeffirelli was overcome with guilt for the rest of his life for having cheated and subsequently avoided her, thereafter making numerous attempts at atonement through writings and documentaries about Callas. This dreadful fictionalized film is his most appalling attempt. It is about Zeffirelli's guilt, not about Callas, who is portrayed insultingly and absurdly inaccurately--a rather unbelievable deficiency, given that Zeffirelli knew her well. If I could give it no stars, I would, but I am constrained to give it at least one.
Over twenty years before the action of this film, Zeffirelli had made many unsuccessful attempts at persuading Callas to film her roles while in her prime. Callas always refused, disliking the idea of filming opera because of the vast disparities between the two media. Therefore, the premise of this film--her agreeing to make a film of CARMEN in 1977 where she lip-syncs to her 1964 EMI CARMEN recording, by which point Callas was already vocally troubled, is entirely idiotic. In the Jeremy Irons' character who comes up with this nonsensical idea, we are intended to read a bizarre version of Zeffirelli himself; the character is named 'Larry Kelly', who in real life, was one of the managers of the Chicago Opera during Callas' great years in the mid 1950s and Callas' professional friend--adding confusion; I note that in the DVD's 'Making of' documentary, he is referred to as "Larry *Clark*". The real Lawrence Kelly had died before this film was made; otherwise, I have little doubt that that he would have been very annoyed.
The film upends everything we know about Callas. She was unsentimental and did not sob while listening to her own recordings. She remained an inventive, professional musician to the last day of her life. She *never* stopped practicing--we even have private recordings of her singing while accompanying herself at the piano (she was an excellent pianist) from a month before her death. Yet the Irons character disgustingly accuses her of neglecting music, as evidenced by his observation that her 'piano is out of tune', another example of Zeffirelli not doing his homework--just as with his poor preparation for the aborted 1964 TOSCA film. Callas, the ultimate professional musician, would have been furious at this inaccuracy. If Callas had ever performed CARMEN on stage, it would not have looked at all as it does here: she was known for her very economical stage movements. When asked about acting in 1968, she said: 'When you want to know how to act on stage, all you have to do is *listen* to the music; the composer has already seen to it. If you really listen with your soul and with your ears, you will find every gesture there'.
Fanny Ardant couldn't be less like Callas if she had tried; perhaps she is a good actress in other things, but she was absolutely the wrong choice and Zeffirelli was of no help. Callas, the second child of Greek immigrants to the US, grew up in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan; she always had traces of a New York accent, even when she tried to disguise it. Ardant's French-accented English, which Zeffirelli apparently didn't notice because he has an Italian accent, is ridiculous. Ardant's speaking voice and manner are not even in the same galaxy with the real Callas; this is, once again, poor preparation on Zeffirelli's part--and Ardant's, and it's especially unprofessional, careless, and irresponsible because there are so many films and tapes, both public and private, of interviews with Callas at every stage of her life--that Zeffirelli certainly knew and to which both of them would have had easy access in 2002. Ardant doesn't look like the strikingly individual and iconic Callas; she is too short and wide-faced; throughout the film, it is especially unsettling to see famous photos of Callas in which her face has been replaced by Ardant's. Zeffirelli dresses her in clothes of a style she had only worn fifteen years earlier. In the 1970s, she wore her hair in a graceful chignon, not messy and free-flowing as we see here; Callas was a notably super-organized and self-controlled person. And what Zeffirelli has her doing in this terrible film is so far from the real Callas that it's almost impossible to catalog the embarrassing mistakes--and this from a man who knew and worked with her during her great years in the 1950s and '60s. It's disgraceful and perplexing, really unforgivable for someone like Zeffirelli. In the 'Making of' documentary, one can tell that Jeremy Irons was ashamed of the result, as well he should have been.
The film's only asset is that audience members can hear a few arias from Callas' great EMI recordings--'Casta diva' from NORMA of 1954, 'Oh mio babbino caro' (from GIANNI SCHICCHI) and 'Un bel di'' (from MADAMA BUTTERFLY) in her brilliant 1954 Puccini recital, as well as the 1964 CARMEN--if you can get past the vocal problems of that period. Don't waste 108 minutes on this ludicrous film; the time is infinitely better spent listening to Callas' recordings or watching a good documentary about her: ironically, the best one, 'CALLAS', made for US Public Broadcasting in 1978, is narrated by Zeffirelli.
(by RES, Callas scholar)
One needs to know some background. In 1964, Franco Zeffirelli directed the brilliant but vocally depleted Callas in famous productions of TOSCA and NORMA at Covent Garden and the Paris Opera, her re-emergence on the opera stage after several years spent with Aristotle Onassis, their relationship having become strained. In late 1964, on the heels of these productions' success, Zeffirelli suggested a film of TOSCA, so Callas participated in a recording of what she believed to be the soundtrack for it on EMI (now issued by Warner Classics which bought the bankrupt EMI in the first decade of the 21st century). She also advanced Zeffirelli $10,000 for startup costs. Zeffirelli, however, had not done his homework, and soon discovered that the rights to film TOSCA had been acquired from its publisher, Ricordi, by conductor Herbert von Karajan, who insisted on conducting the film Zeffirelli planned to direct. Callas assumed she would use the soundtrack she had already recorded, conducted by Georges Pretre, her preferred conductor at the time, and refused to re-do it with Karajan, so the project collapsed. The EMI recording thus became her second, and unnecessary, TOSCA recording; the first was made in 1953, and is generally considered to be amongst the greatest opera recordings--though, interestingly, Callas disliked TOSCA. The 1964 recording is clearly a soundtrack, with all sorts of sound effects. She is in the poor voice of that period. When the project was derailed, she requested her $10,000 back from Zeffirelli but he had spent it and could not repay her. Having grown up poor and being very money-conscious, Callas was furious and ended her friendship with him. When she died of a heart attack at age 53 on 16 September 1977, Zeffirelli was overcome with guilt for the rest of his life for having cheated and subsequently avoided her, thereafter making numerous attempts at atonement through writings and documentaries about Callas. This dreadful fictionalized film is his most appalling attempt. It is about Zeffirelli's guilt, not about Callas, who is portrayed insultingly and absurdly inaccurately--a rather unbelievable deficiency, given that Zeffirelli knew her well. If I could give it no stars, I would, but I am constrained to give it at least one.
Over twenty years before the action of this film, Zeffirelli had made many unsuccessful attempts at persuading Callas to film her roles while in her prime. Callas always refused, disliking the idea of filming opera because of the vast disparities between the two media. Therefore, the premise of this film--her agreeing to make a film of CARMEN in 1977 where she lip-syncs to her 1964 EMI CARMEN recording, by which point Callas was already vocally troubled, is entirely idiotic. In the Jeremy Irons' character who comes up with this nonsensical idea, we are intended to read a bizarre version of Zeffirelli himself; the character is named 'Larry Kelly', who in real life, was one of the managers of the Chicago Opera during Callas' great years in the mid 1950s and Callas' professional friend--adding confusion; I note that in the DVD's 'Making of' documentary, he is referred to as "Larry *Clark*". The real Lawrence Kelly had died before this film was made; otherwise, I have little doubt that that he would have been very annoyed.
The film upends everything we know about Callas. She was unsentimental and did not sob while listening to her own recordings. She remained an inventive, professional musician to the last day of her life. She *never* stopped practicing--we even have private recordings of her singing while accompanying herself at the piano (she was an excellent pianist) from a month before her death. Yet the Irons character disgustingly accuses her of neglecting music, as evidenced by his observation that her 'piano is out of tune', another example of Zeffirelli not doing his homework--just as with his poor preparation for the aborted 1964 TOSCA film. Callas, the ultimate professional musician, would have been furious at this inaccuracy. If Callas had ever performed CARMEN on stage, it would not have looked at all as it does here: she was known for her very economical stage movements. When asked about acting in 1968, she said: 'When you want to know how to act on stage, all you have to do is *listen* to the music; the composer has already seen to it. If you really listen with your soul and with your ears, you will find every gesture there'.
Fanny Ardant couldn't be less like Callas if she had tried; perhaps she is a good actress in other things, but she was absolutely the wrong choice and Zeffirelli was of no help. Callas, the second child of Greek immigrants to the US, grew up in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan; she always had traces of a New York accent, even when she tried to disguise it. Ardant's French-accented English, which Zeffirelli apparently didn't notice because he has an Italian accent, is ridiculous. Ardant's speaking voice and manner are not even in the same galaxy with the real Callas; this is, once again, poor preparation on Zeffirelli's part--and Ardant's, and it's especially unprofessional, careless, and irresponsible because there are so many films and tapes, both public and private, of interviews with Callas at every stage of her life--that Zeffirelli certainly knew and to which both of them would have had easy access in 2002. Ardant doesn't look like the strikingly individual and iconic Callas; she is too short and wide-faced; throughout the film, it is especially unsettling to see famous photos of Callas in which her face has been replaced by Ardant's. Zeffirelli dresses her in clothes of a style she had only worn fifteen years earlier. In the 1970s, she wore her hair in a graceful chignon, not messy and free-flowing as we see here; Callas was a notably super-organized and self-controlled person. And what Zeffirelli has her doing in this terrible film is so far from the real Callas that it's almost impossible to catalog the embarrassing mistakes--and this from a man who knew and worked with her during her great years in the 1950s and '60s. It's disgraceful and perplexing, really unforgivable for someone like Zeffirelli. In the 'Making of' documentary, one can tell that Jeremy Irons was ashamed of the result, as well he should have been.
The film's only asset is that audience members can hear a few arias from Callas' great EMI recordings--'Casta diva' from NORMA of 1954, 'Oh mio babbino caro' (from GIANNI SCHICCHI) and 'Un bel di'' (from MADAMA BUTTERFLY) in her brilliant 1954 Puccini recital, as well as the 1964 CARMEN--if you can get past the vocal problems of that period. Don't waste 108 minutes on this ludicrous film; the time is infinitely better spent listening to Callas' recordings or watching a good documentary about her: ironically, the best one, 'CALLAS', made for US Public Broadcasting in 1978, is narrated by Zeffirelli.
(by RES, Callas scholar)