Dead Tenors' Society
Mario Lanza (1921-1959)
With all that has been written and said about Mario Lanza over the past fifty years, it is sometimes difficult to separate fact from fiction. In no fewer than nine full length biographies, countless album liner notes and a television documentary, the limits of credibility have been reached and sometimes surpassed. The contradictory statements pertaining to this tenor’s life and career are countless. It has been said that Lanza had mastered fifty complete operatic roles by the age of twenty, that Lanza never overate...his metabolism caused him to gain extra pounds, that Lanza was a devoted husband and father, who enjoyed a healthy, loving relationship with his wife, that Lanza was a highly sensitive, disciplined individual with a near genius IQ, that Lanza was an enormously gifted tenor with a tremendous voice and great instinctive artistry, that Lanza met his untimely death at the hands of underworld figures. It was also said that Lanza could not read music and required months to learn a single song, that Lanza was a glutton who once ate twelve complete dinners at a sitting and frequently tipped the scales at over 300 pounds, that Lanza was a philanderer with an eye for underage girls, whose wife once tried to kill him in a barbiturate induced frenzy, that Lanza was a temperamental, bipolar alcoholic with the mental and emotional development of a child, that Lanza was a third rate imitator of Enrico Caruso, with a voice that was the result of recording studio amplification, that Lanza‘s excesses eventually led to his death at the early age of 38. The rumors and speculation go on and on. The truth of the matter probably lies somewhere between the two extremes.
Mario Lanza was born Alfred Arnold Cocozza on January 31, 1921 in the Italian-American neighborhood of South Philadelphia. His father, Antonio “Tony” Cocozza, was a World War I veteran who was bayoneted, gassed and lost a hand in combat and received full disability benefits from the government. Tony and his son, whom the family always called “Freddie”, spent hours enjoying the elder Cocozza’s impressive collection of opera records. Young Freddie listened to the voices of the great tenors...Gigli, Schipa, Zenatello and, especially, Enrico Caruso. Lanza’s mother, Mary Cocozza, was born Maria Lanza and was only seventeen when she gave birth to her only child. Mary had longed to be an opera star herself but gave up her ambitions to raise Freddie. When, in his late teens, Freddie began to speak of pursuing a career in opera, Mary was thrilled and took her son for an audition with Irene Williams, a former opera star and voice teacher. Williams was impressed with the young man and agreed to take him on as a student. For the next eighteen months, the two worked intensely and the youthful tenor learned to read music and developed the foundations of a solid vocal technique. Before long, he began to attract attention outside his hometown.
In 1941, twenty year old Freddie was given an audition before Serge Koussevitsky, the famed conductor and artistic director of the Tanglewood Festival. The budding tenor, now calling himself “Mario Lanza” (a masculine version of his mother’s maiden name), was awarded a scholarship to study at the prestigious festival, held every summer in the Berkshires. It was here that Lanza sang his first complete operatic role, Fenton in Otto Nicolai’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. It may not have been one of the heroes of Verdi or Puccini that the young man had always longed to portray but it was an important debut nonetheless. Mario Lanza was on his way.
Lanza’s career was interrupted when he was drafted for military service. Even with this brief hiatus from civilian life, the tenor managed to find his way into Special Services where “The Caruso of the Air Force” was featured in two Army shows...On the Beam and Winged Victory. Upon being discharged in 1945, he received a contract from Columbia Artists Management, Inc. and relocated to New York with his new wife, Betty. He regularly filled in for the Metropolitan’s Jan Peerce on the popular program, The Celenese Hour: Great Moments in Music. Although Lanza was called upon at the last minute and was often under rehearsed for the broadcasts (old aircheck tapes show a number of amusing “bloopers” on Lanza’s part), his performances were always stellar and helped to establish him in the public’s mind. Through CAMI, Lanza was given the opportunity to tour Canada, Mexico and the U. S. with “The Bel Canto Trio”, an ensemble which also featured soprano Frances Yeend and bass George London, who was then at the beginning of his career. Although Yeend was the best known of the group, it was Lanza who garnered the lion’s share of the praise from critics and the public. Appearances at Grant Park and Hollywood Bowl cemented Lanza’s reputation as an artist of the first order. It was only a matter of time before Hollywood came calling.
The year 1948 marked the turning point in Mario Lanza’s career. RCA began to take advantage of the contract they had signed with the tenor back in 1945 and MGM signed Lanza to a seven year contract to star in a series of features. The first film, That Midnight Kiss, was released in 1949. As singing truck driver, Johnny Donetti, Lanza burst onto the big screen with an exuberant freshness and a masculine voice that took the public by surprise. Although this picture had been intended as a vehicle for star Kathryn Grayson, Lanza clearly stole the show in the public’s mind. Mario Lanza’s ship had finally come in.
There were problems from the start, however. Although he was thrilled to have a long term contract with a major Hollywood studio, Lanza never felt that MGM’s executives treated him with the proper respect. He argued that the studio expected him to be commercially popular at the expense of his artistry. In his next film, 1950’s The Toast of New Orleans, none of Lanza’s operatic offerings are heard in their entirety...we hear only bits and pieces of Carmen, Martha and Madama Butterfly. We do get the opportunity...unfortunately...to hear every last note of Boom Biddy Boom Boom, without a doubt the absolute worst song ever recorded by Lanza. However, the tenor was under contract to one of Hollywood’s most powerful studios and was compelled to deliver such tripe, despite his own feelings. It was over such artistic points that major arguments often erupted between Lanza and the studio bosses.
What kept Lanza afloat during this period of artistic dispute with the studio was the possibility of portraying his idol, Enrico Caruso, in a film biography of the great tenor. For nearly two years, Lanza had been badgering the front office to produce this film as a vehicle for him, but was ignored by executives. Unbeknownst to Lanza, however, the studio had purchased the rights to Dorothy Caruso’s biography of her late husband. Amazingly, when it was announced that MGM was planning to produce a biographical film on the great tenor’s life, Lanza was not mentioned as the star! The studio launched a search for an actor to portray Caruso, with the idea that the tenor’s old recordings would be used for all musical sequences. Lanza, the logical choice for this project, was infuriated. He publicly denounced the studio and its executives, criticizing their lack of taste and loyalty. His justifiable anger was seen as ingratitude and the press labeled him as temperamental.
Also a constant source of fodder for the press was Lanza’s ongoing battle with his ever expanding waistline. Lanza claimed to be able to sing better when he was carrying extra weight. So, the studio would allow the tenor to balloon to 250 or more pounds for the recording sessions for his films. Then, he would be ordered to drop the excess poundage in order to be at his ideal screen weight of 165 pounds in time for the first day of shooting. In many instances, Lanza would have only a matter of weeks to shed 75 or 80 pounds. If he failed to make his target weight, he was fined by the studios...often for thousands of dollars. It‘s a small wonder that he wasn‘t more temperamental.
Despite Lanza’s battles with the studio, The Great Caruso was completed...with Lanza as the star. The film became MGM’s biggest moneymaker for 1951 and broke box office records all over the world. Unlike his earlier films, Lanza and his magnificent voice are showcased in arias and scenes from Rigoletto, Aïda, Martha, Pagliacci and other operas. The critical praise matched the audience response and Lanza eagerly awaited other worthy assignments from the studio. Unfortunately, The Great Caruso would be the last (and, arguably, the only) worthy assignment the tenor would receive from MGM. Next on Lanza’s schedule was an army comedy entitled Because You’re Mine. The tenor looked at the script, hated it and refused to do the film. However, the studio dangled the opportunity of starring in a film version of Romberg’s The Student Prince as impetus for Lanza to do the army comedy. Lanza desperately wanted to star in the Romberg operetta and begrudgingly agreed to appear in Because You’re Mine. The film is not the complete and utter waste of time that most Lanza historians have made it out to be. On the contrary, it is a light and entertaining film that gives us the opportunity to see and hear the tenor in big moments from Cavalleria Rusticana, Rigoletto and L'Africana. It is also an interesting film by merit of the star's unusual physical appearance. During the course of the production, Lanza’s weight fluctuated by over 80 pounds and harried film editors were simply unable to match footage from scene to scene. In the finished film, the tenor‘s appearance changes noticeably and, at times, it almost seems as if two different actors were playing Lanza’s role!
Problems on the set of The Student Prince began from the first days of production in June of 1952. Once again, Lanza felt that the studio was treating him as a contract player instead of as a star. Indeed, his paltry weekly salary of $2500 was only a fraction of what any other star of his magnitude would have received for a starring role. Also upsetting Lanza was the studio’s choice of director for the film. Lanza had expressly requested that one of MGM’s resident directors, Curtis Bernhardt, not be signed for the project. Upon learning that the studio had contracted Bernhardt anyway, Lanza walked off the picture. MGM sued the tenor for $5,000,000...an unbelievable sum, considering Lanza’s salary for the picture. The suit was eventually settled out of court when Lanza agreed to allow his replacement, British actor Edmund Purdom, to lip synch to the tenor’s prerecorded songs. The Student Prince fiasco seemed to precipitate the future downslide of Lanza’s personal and professional life.
His much heralded television debut on a 1954 episode of Shower of Stars was marred by the tenor’s supposed inability to perform live. According to most accounts, Lanza, weakened by crash dieting, was compelled to lip synch his performance to an old recording of “Be My Love”. However, one very important fact has been completely ignored for over fifty years. A close examination of the program reveals that other guest stars, including Betty Grable, were lip synching as well, which suggests that Lanza was never expected to sing live. Why he was singled out for criticism is open to speculation. The press leapt on the incident, claiming that the tenor had lost his voice. A hastily organized concert for reporters proved that Lanza’s voice was still intact but the damage had already been done. Worse was to come.
A 1955 engagement at Las Vegas’ New Frontier Hotel (at the then unheard of fee of $100,000) had to be canceled when Lanza fell ill at the last minute. Speculations of drunkenness ran rampant and the press was unforgivably brutal. The publicity had a devastating effect on Lanza’s reputation. Paramount dropped him from their production of The Vagabond King, but Warner Brothers kept the tenor under contract for the film version of James Cain’s Serenade. This film was a high point in an otherwise gloomy period of Lanza’s career. Surrounded by an extraordinary cast which included Joan Fontaine and Vincent Price, Lanza gives the performance of his life. The tenor plays Damon Vincente, a field worker who rises to operatic stardom, loses his confidence and his voice but eventually conquers his demons and rises back to the top. This was, undoubtedly, Lanza’s finest film performance and evidence of just what a fine actor he could be when given decent material and sympathetic direction. Anyone who doubts Mario Lanza’s abilities as an actor based on his work at MGM should take a look at this film.
Disillusioned with Hollywood...and badgered by the IRS for nonpayment of income tax...Lanza, his wife, Betty, and their four children, Colleen, Ellisa, Damon and Marc, sailed for Italy in 1957. Lanza not only hoped to start a new life by escaping his personal and financial woes, he was also hoping to jump start his stalled film career. Italian production companies were eager to have the services of an American film star and Lanza accepted a contract from Titanus Films in Rome. Initially, Lanza was pleased to be starring in The Seven Hills of Rome, which, he understood, would team him with French sex symbol Brigitte Bardot. Lanza would play Marc Revere, an American singing star who lost his job in the States and travels to Italy to boost his sagging career (typecasting?). The tenor’s enthusiasm soon turned to frustration, however, as problems mounted. The independent, low budget production was unbelievably disorganized. Lanza discovered, to his horror that the script was unfinished and was being rewritten on a daily basis. The novice crew had not yet finished building the sets. None of the stars and few of the production staff could speak English...a fatal flaw for a film that was scripted and shot in English...and, worst of all, Brigitte Bardot had never been involved with the project. Marisa Allasio, a buxom model who was known as “The Brigitte Bardot of Italy”, was costarring with Lanza. Somehow, the picture was completed. It was not exactly the triumphant comeback that Mario Lanza had hoped for.
His contract with MGM had prevented Lanza from singing concerts and recitals unless through the auspices of the studio. In Europe, however, the tenor was free to sing all the performances his voice could handle and arranged a European concert tour which began in late December of 1957. One of Lanza’s first performances on the tour, at London’s Royal Albert Hall, was recorded on January 16th, 1958. Two nights later, the tenor gave one of the worst performances of his career in the same venue. According to his accompanist, Constantine Callinicos, it was an inebriated Lanza who appeared before the London public in ragged voice. There may have been another, more serious, reason for the lackluster performance.
By this point in his life, Lanza was no longer a well man. Diabetes, liver damage, hypertension, gout and phlebitis plagued the singer, who was only thirty seven years old. The concert tour had to be halted in Berlin when Lanza’s phlebitis flared up. After several weeks of treatment and rest in Rome, Lanza returned to the tour, which included appearances in Belgium, France, Holland and Scotland. Performances were inconsistent, reviews were mixed. Lanza was so ill and tired that he was forced to appear in public supporting himself with a cane during the final weeks of the tour. There would be no rest for the weary, however. Lanza had racked up substantial debts and was compelled to continue working to avoid bankruptcy.
Lanza’s next film project was entitled For The First Time and was produced by Corona Films in Rome. Before production could begin, however, the 260 pound Lanza would have to undergo yet another crash diet, this time at a retreat in Bavaria. By the time filming began in the fall of 1958, Lanza was down to a relatively slim 210 pounds. Even with the benefit of recent weight loss, Lanza’s appearance in the film is alarming. His face is often puffy, despite obviously heavy makeup, and he awkwardly holds his hands in front of his middle, as if trying to conceal his paunch. In spite of his trendy new Tony Curtis hairstyle (he had abandoned the classic opera singer pompadour for this film), Lanza looks at least ten years older than he actually was. In the film, Lanza plays Tony Costa, a temperamental American tenor who falls in love with a deaf girl on the isle of Capri. The quarrelsome Costa gets into trouble throughout the film, has contract disputes, causes a barroom brawl and gets arrested. In the end, though, everything turns out for the best; the tenor gets the girl and is saved from disaster by his friends. In real life, however, Lanza’s friends could not save the tenor from himself.
Shortly after completing work on For The First Time, Lanza began production on a series of studio albums, his first since leaving the States. In less than a year, the tenor recorded no fewer than six full length albums, an extraordinary feat, considering the state of his health and voice. A decade of massively excessive eating and drinking, crash dieting and a general disregard for his own well being was taking a tremendous toll. Still, the offers for work poured in. A concert tour of South Africa, with a guarantee of $10,000 per night, was proposed as well as offers to do television and more recording and film work. The tenor worked furiously, honoring some commitments, canceling others. It was almost as if Lanza wanted to complete as many projects as he could before time ran out.
In April of 1959, Lanza was briefly hospitalized after suffering a heart attack. Doctors warned the stricken man to curtail his appetites and slow down. As usual, Lanza heeded the warning only temporarily. In late August, shortly after completing work on his recording of The Desert Song, Lanza suffered a second, more serious heart attack. After another brief convalescence, the tenor launched into another project, a film to be called Laugh, Clown, Laugh. Another film meant more hard work, more travel, more frustrations and the inevitable crash diet. It was all too much for Lanza’s ravaged body to withstand. On October 7th, Lanza suffered his third heart attack while a patient at the Valle Giulia Clinic in Rome. This time, the results were fatal. Considering the amount of abuse he had heaped upon himself, it is something of a miracle that Mario Lanza managed to survive for thirty-eight years.
Some 45 years after the death of Mario Lanza, we are left to speculate just how this man’s life and career might have been different if he had been allowed to follow a different path. As a young, unknown tenor, he was universally praised by critics for his tremendous voice and appealing artistry. He was called Caruso’s successor, the finest tenor voice in a generation. Once he found success on the big screen, however, and began to appeal to “common people”, attitudes changed. Critics began to pan his performances and dismiss him as a low class crooner and opera divo wannabe. Everything from his voice to his physical appearance was attacked and critics seemed bent on destroying the tenor. Why, in a few short years, had it become so fashionable to bash Mario Lanza? Certainly, his artistry and voice had not diminished between, say, 1948 and 1951. The “vicious, whispering campaign” (Lanza’s words) reminds one of the attacks launched upon tenor Luciano Pavarotti during the past two decades. Pavarotti too was praised as a young, unknown tenor. As he gained mass appeal, however, his voice, artistry and musical taste have frequently come under attack in the press. The difference lies in the fact that Pavarotti has had ample opportunity to prove himself on the major stages of the international opera world. Lanza didn’t.
Mario Lanza’s recordings are still best sellers the world over. Sadly, none of the tenor’s films are available on DVD but all can be purchased on VHS. There is clearly a great deal of Lanza on CD and video, some good, some fantastic, some awful. For reasons of space, I will concentrate only on Lanza releases that can be highly recommended.
For those who wish to hear the tenor in performance, there are only two choices that are currently commercially available. Lanza’s triumphant appearance at the Hollywood Bowl is a must for those who wish to hear the tenor as a young man. In this 1947 concert, we hear the 26 year old Lanza (with soprano Frances Yeend under the direction of Eugene Ormandy) singing arias and duets from Andrea Chenier, Tosca, La Bohème, Madama Butterfly, La Traviata and L’Elisir d’Amore. Although the singer seems uncharacteristically subdued at times, his glorious voice rings out with the youthful exuberance of a young artist, not yet corrupted and jaded by the Hollywood machine. This performance is available on the Gala label at a nominal price.
The mature Lanza can be heard in his January 1958 Royal Albert Hall concert, which is available on RCA Victor. The program is not the typical array of movie hits and Italian pop songs that one might expect of Lanza at this point in his career. Instead, we are treated to a recital of art songs (“Lasciatemi morire“, “Già, il sole dal Gange”, “Tell Me, Oh Blue, Blue Sky”, etc.), arias from opera and operetta (including a sizzling “Softly as in a Morning Sunrise”) and a handful of the aforementioned pop hits from the tenor’s movies. Although the carefully chosen program enables Lanza to pace himself well throughout the performance, he does hit a few rough spots from time to time. All in all, it is an impressive performance and well worth having.
Also on RCA Victor is a collection from Lanza’s radio show called Don’t Forget Me. Although the selections run the gamut from stellar to truly dreadful (an English language version of “Funiculì, Funiculà”), Lanza, recorded between 1951 and 1952, is in excellent voice.
For those who wish to explore the purely operatic side of Lanza’s art, another RCA Victor issue, Mario Lanza : Opera Arias & Duets is a must. Taken from a variety of sources...studio recordings, radio airchecks and movie soundtracks...these performances represent the Lanza voice in its prime. The highlight of this CD is the remarkable 1955 teaming of Lanza and legendary Italian soprano Licia Albanese for the third act duet from Verdi’s Otello, from the soundtrack of the film Serenade. Also of note are the less typical Lanza offerings, such as “Un’ tal gioco” from Pagliacci and “Testa adorata” from the rarely heard Leoncavallo La Bohème.
There are also some magical moments from the last days of the tenor’s life and career. RCA Victor has ingeniously paired several albums from Lanza’s final twelve months into single CD sets. Included are pairings of the soundtrack of the tenor’s final film, For the First Time, with his 1959 recording, Mario Lanza Sings Caruso Favorites, Lanza’s 1952 soundtrack recording of The Student Prince with his final album, The Desert Song and a seemingly incongruous pairing of The Vagabond King and Mario!, Lanza’s 1958 grouping of Neapolitan melodies. This final pairing, re titled Lanza at His Best for the CD reissue, is the best of the lot. These well worn gems of Naples are helped immeasurably by new arrangements by Ennio Morricone, before he gained fame scoring the spaghetti Westerns of Sergio Leone. Lanza’s renditions of “Tu, ca nun chiagne”, “’Na sera ‘e maggio” and “Comme facetta mammetta” are immensely enjoyable and his haunting “Voce ‘e notte” is probably his finest recording. This song alone makes the CD well worth the price. The recordings from The Vagabond King show Lanza in somewhat husky voice. This is forgivable...and a bit sad...especially when one takes into account that Lanza had only nine weeks left to live. Despite his declining health, the tenor still manages to thrill. His “Song of the Vagabonds” prompted a colleague of mine to ask, “Why can’t we hear it sung that way today?” Why not, indeed.
Some five decades after his death, it may be argued that Mario Lanza lacked the discipline and vocal technique necessary for an international opera career. His musicianship could be sloppy. His South Philly Italian-American accent sometimes found its way into the arias of Verdi and Puccini. Even the voice itself was wearing out at the very end, the result of a decade of excess. But...
Mario Lanza brought the world of opera to millions who might otherwise never have had the opportunity to enjoy it and he continues to charm and fascinate a new generation of fans. Over a half century after he made his first record and film, Lanza is still a best seller. He was a legendary performer who sang with passion, virility and honesty. He was also a volatile personality who ate, drank and made merry while giving all he had for his art and public...and he died so damn young. But, it is almost impossible to recall that one brief decade of fame and imagine it any other way. That was Mario Lanza.
