Most of the Magda Olivero obituaries I’ve read so far are brief and say things like “The Italian soprano Magda Olivero, one of the most prominent interpreters of the Italian verismo operatic tradition whose career spanned 50 years, has died at 104” (via The Guardian) or “One of the great Italian divas, the soprano Magda Olivero, has died at the age of 104 in Milan after a career spanning more than 70 years” (via the BBC). The New York Times obit penned by Margalit Fox reads like a novel in comparison and has a slightly different tone:
Magda Olivero, an Italian soprano who for decades whipped audiences around the world into a frenzy of adulation that was operatic even by operatic standards — despite the fact that by her own ready admission she did not possess an especially lovely voice — died on Monday in Milan. She was 104.
margalit fox, new york times
The bolding is mine. What a way to kick off an obituary: “So-and-so, who was loved by fans around the world despite admitting she possessed only middling talent, died on this day at the age of 104.” Other highlights of the article, which mostly paints Olivero as a hack made famous by obsessed fans, include:
Writing in The Times in 1969, Peter G. Davis reviewed Miss Olivero in her most famous role, the title part in Francesco Cilea’s “Adriana Lecouvreur,” with the Connecticut Opera Association in Hartford.
“Her voice is not a beautiful one by conventional standards,” he said. “The tight vibrato, hollow chest tone and occasionally piercing upper register are qualities that one must adjust to.”
In spite of these limitations, or perhaps because of them, Miss Olivero distilled her voice and stage manner into a potent combination that many listeners found bewitching.
margalit fox, new york times
Again, my bolding. I can’t find the Davis review archived anywhere online to read the rest of it, but here’s what Opera News had to say about “Adriana Lecouvreur” in its Olivero obituary (Fox notes Cilèa’s fandom as well):
Francesco Cilèa, who considered Olivero the greatest interpreter of his Adriana, finally persuaded the soprano to return to the stage. Writing to her, Cilèa insisted it was Olivero’s duty “toward her public and her art.” The elderly composer was dying and wanted to hear Olivero as Adriana one last time. When she worked on the role with him, Cilèa declared Olivero had “gone beyond the notes” to what he felt when he created Adriana.
ira siff, opera news
Fox also covers conductor Ugo Tansini’s famous assessment of an audition Olivero performed in her youth: “She possesses neither voice, musicality nor personality. Nothing. Absolutely nothing! She should look for another profession,” which comes late but seems to haunt the entire obituary. There’s also this:
On April 3, 1975, Miss Olivero took the stage for her inaugural performance at the Met, 42 years after her debut in Turin.
“It wasn’t Magda Olivero’s evening,” Harold C. Schonberg wrote in The Times the next day, adding: “There are, naturally, all kinds of holes in the voice, and there also were occasional pitch troubles. Miss Olivero must necessarily represent the art of singing rather than singing itself.”
The crowd gave her a 20-minute ovation anyway.
margalit fox, new york times
Meanwhile, over at Opera News, Ira Siff (or should that be “simpering fanboy Ira Siff?” she asked with a raised eyebrow) writes of Olivero at the Met:
But it was not until 1975, at the instigation of her great admirer Marilyn Horne, that the Met finally invited Magda Olivero for three performances as Tosca. She made her debut soon after her sixty-fifth birthday. Although the audience was wildly demonstrative, this was no mere nostalgia event. After a few minutes to warm up and conquer nerves, Olivero’s voice was astonishingly fresh, shedding decades by Act II. At the second performance, this listener was treated to the most touching, spectacularly sung “Vissi d’arte” of his experience. During Act III, Olivero’s ascent to a spectacular, lengthy high C and plunge down two octaves into chest voice on the line “Io quella lama” earned her a spontaneous ovation. This old-school audience response was inspired by the artist’s old-school stage deportment; it was an evening that, in the best sense, turned back the clock whenever she was onstage.
ira siff, opera news
This is some Rashomon shit, is it not? You can mosey on over to YouTube and take a listen for yourself. I’m not an opera fanatic and possess no strong feelings about Olivero either way, but Fox is a master [archived here] of dramatic, entertaining (sometimes operatic) obituaries and this was no exception.
Cranky Lesbian is a disgruntled homosexual with too much time on her hands. Click for film reviews or to follow on Instagram.
