A Debut for Callas

Ever since she sang her last public performance in 1965, the opening of each new season has been preceded by a flurry of rumors that Maria Callas this year would finally return to opera. Last week in Turin, Italy, she did just that-- but in an unaccustomed role. This time Callas appeared on the far side of the footlights as regista of an elaborate production of Verdi's I Vespri Siciliani.

The colorful night marked Callas' debut as a stage director and the inauguration of Europe's newest opera house, Turin's opulent Teatro Regio, which has been rebuilt at a cost of $13 million to replace the original two-century-old theater that was destroyed by fire 37 years ago. Still, no one doubted that it was La Callas, not il teatro, who was the true star of the occasion. The dazzling opening-night audience included luminaries like President Giovanni Leone, but it was "Mar-i-a!" that the crowd shouted.

Unfortunately, that was the high light of the evening. The performance lacked polish. As a consequence of Callas' inexperience, there was a second-act barcarole scene without a boat; at the masked-ball assassination attempt, the dancers lined up at the rear of the set, their backs to the audience, as though they were praying at church.

Predictably, Italian critics did not spare their barbs at the once tempestuous diva. "A boring and costly family party" was how one described the first-night folderol. Critic Duilio Courir tartly suggested that I Vespri Siciliani, as one of Verdi's most complex works, was "surely not advisable for beginners."

If the results of her first directorial venture were not all that Perfectionist Callas might have wished, she nevertheless had proved to be a sensitive director. From the first rehearsal it was apparent that she had mellowed considerably since her stormy singing days.

Smiling easily, she never lost her professional detachment, despite the obbligato of snarling drills and hammering as workmen put the finishing touches on the theater. Local newspapermen, wistfully recalling her public pyrotechnics of 20 years ago and hoping for more of the same, groaned in frustration at her low-keyed manner during rehearsals. One reporter disguised himself as a soldier in the chorus in order to get a story.

Callas sat at her director's desk, marking the score and consulting with her two co-directors, Giuseppe di Stefano and Fabrizio Melano. During the breaks, Callas and Di Stefano, friends for 20 years, laughed together about the old days--even the 1955 La Traviata performance in Mexico City when Tenor Di Stefano stalked off the stage, leaving Callas stranded in the second act in retaliation for her hogging the duets and curtain calls of the previous evening. "What wonderful things we did then, Pippo," she smiled. They worked with each other as affectionately as they did with the singers.

As acutely aware of the singers' sensibilities as Callas and Di Stefano once had been of their own, they criticized ever so gently. When the singers needed correction, Callas refrained from public remonstrations and instead took them aside, instructing them out of earshot. "We are not here to bully anyone," she observed. "We are here to help."

The musicians responded warmly to the velvet-glove treatment. Soprano Raina Kabaivanska called Callas a "genius of musicality." Said Basso Bonaldo Giaiotti: "Every one of her comments is giustissimo--completely right. She is never arrogant. Even when she has to wound, she does it with a smile."

As to the future, Callas, 49, is being sphinxlike about whether she will embark on a new career as a director. At week's end she and Di Stefano flew to London to record some duets and later this month she will judge the Madama Butterfly competition in Osaka. Beyond that, she says, "by habit I never make long-range plans. I follow my instinct of the moment."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.