Pavarotti shares his life in a book

Pavarotti shares his life in a book

Pavarotti: My World

By Luciano Pavarotti and William Wright,

Arrow Books, London, 1996

345 pages

Rp 49,700

JAKARTA (JP): Something funny happened to Luciano Pavarotti,
superstar, in his homeland of Italy 10 years ago. "I am Luciano
Pavarotti," he said to a nine-year-old boy as he tried to cajole
him into coming to his concert "as his guest". In China, Peru or
Miami Beach, the name might have moved the earth. But this
little boy merely shrugged; the name didn't mean anything to him
and he'd rather tend the drink stand. In fact, his mother
insisted on it.

Doesn't the world love to ridicule a famous man? But, rather
than having it done unto him, Pavarotti seems to revel in doing
it to himself, superficially at least. For here he is, quite
possibly the most celebrated tenor of all time, professing his
egalitarian sensibilities which render singing in televised
concerts, "where the numbers (of audience) are too big too
imagine", much more satisfying than singing in an "elitist" opera
hall.

Here too, is the man who once had the Prince and Princess of
Wales endure his famous Hyde Park concert drenched from head to
toe; who practically lured half of Beijing out of their homes;
who has made opera accessible to the most unlikely settings, yet
raised substantial speculations over his ability to read music.

Beyond fleeting insinuations of his affection for Nicoletta,
the woman for whom he recently left his wife, don't expect much
insight into that scandal. As a matter of fact -- a special
chapter titled My Wonderful Family notwithstanding -- not much is
learned about Pavarotti's relationship with his former wife.

Not that dualism is a no-no territory. In a historical
manifesto rather incongruous for its "normalcy" and
"unaffectedness" (you'd expect someone of Pavarotti's stature to
be somewhat grandiloquent), what you'll probably see most clearly
is a man who is as gifted an artist as he is a businessman.

What Pavarotti: My World doesn't have, thankfully, is a
laborious account of the maestro's rise from naught to hot.
Chronology has its nemesis in tedium, and Pavarotti has
successfully escaped it, thanks to his earlier collaboration with
William Wright 15 years ago in Pavarotti: My Story. It's been
said more than once that sequels are not necessarily equals, so
he has painfully avoided calling this second endeavor by that
title.

But Pavarotti is no Pico Iyer, and William Wright is certainly
no Dominick Dunne. For one, the writing is erratic and redundant
at best.

The prose even has a hint of foreignness in it, such as when
Pavarotti describes the Grand Opera as being "big" in every
sense: "In addition to the big spectacle and the big artistry, it
is very big in risks." The language is English, yet you can
almost tell the thought processes are Italian.

The 62-year-old Pavarotti is also keen on saying he's grown up
in opera. "So when I say I am an opera singer, I do not mean I
am a man who earns his living that way; I mean that is who I am."
A peculiar, if not totally unnecessary self-description,
especially coming from someone who practically comes from within
a tradition. Yet it is a redundancy that can only be explained
as a somewhat narcissistic desire to draw attention to what
already goes without saying (call it an artist's indulgence, if
you like).

That said, Pavarotti: My World is a charming mix of
inconsistency, vanity, modesty, pragmatism and honesty. Not only
because we revel in having a member of the rich and famous debunk
his own myths, but also because Pavarotti is essentially saying
what other artists feel about their own vulnerability. Take, for
instance, his obsession with his health. With tenors often losing
their voices at 50, "you never know when you'll wake up one
morning with a voice no one wants to hear".

Granted, Pavarotti doesn't have hang-ups. Realizing his
potential for broadening the classical music audience, he has no
qualms about appearing on mainstream television shows or even
sharing the stage with the likes of Sting, Bruce Springsteen and
Bryan Adams. Far from cramping his style, his talent has served
as a catalyst. And, in an age when MTV and Hollywood are merely
chanting the buzzword, he physically travels the distance,
bridging East and West, as Genoan cooks meet Chinese chefs, and
much, much more.

In addition to the entire "China experience", he founded the
revolutionary Philadelphia Vocal Competition; appeared in the
movie Giorgio; did the Three Tenors Extravaganza twice as
phenomenal commercial and artistic successes; found himself a
large-scale sideline activity in the Pavarotti International
Horse Show. Yet showmanship is not without its costs.

In 1992, too absorbed by all the sideshow, he was caught lip-
synching during a major horse-show concert and became "the O.J.
Simpson of the concert world". In 1993, Pavarotti was booed in La
Scala.

Not that he acquiesces fully to his folly. For a while, he
indulges in a bit of media-bashing in a "you-just-don't-know-how-
impossible-it-is-sometimes-to-be-me" manner. At another time, he
would simply blame it on "the day of the attack", the age of the
cynics, presumably, where there is a much greater eagerness to
cut the famous down to size.

Yet what also stands out in this book is a wonderful sense of
freedom, the freedom to tell whatever pleases the subject, and to
do so in a self-effacing way akin to one steadfastly secure in
his accomplishments. A certain evanescent amiability also
permeates the narrative in a testament to Pavarotti's well-
documented humanitarianism.

Pavarotti, indeed, is larger than life, and his flippant,
carefree, almost childlike rendering of things reflects just how
possible it is to be totally and utterly oneself when one has his
kind of fame. "With fame," he muses, "you get a certain kind of
respect you don't get by just being good at what you do." And,
like most legends, dead or alive, he also knows the best time to
stop is just when people are starting to expect an encore.

-- Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan