A look at the life and work of opera legend Luciano Pavarotti.
Unless you’ve lived under a rock your entire life, chances are you’ve heard of Luciano Pavarotti, arguably the greatest opera tenor of all time. At the very least, you’ve heard his powerhouse voice, so soul-stirring it’s almost tangible; as one of the interviewees in Ron Howard’s documentary “Pavarotti” acutely describes, when he sang, “you could see molecules.” Called the “King of the high C’s,” Pavarotti broke vocal boundaries, reaching and sustaining impossible notes with seeming ease. A larger than life personality, he certainly deserves a larger than life celluloid representation, and while Howard provides us with a vastly endearing, entertaining portrait of the legend, it remains surface-deep, conventional in its presentation and adoring of its subject.
Raised by – and harboring a deep affinity for – women (as well as Italian food), Pavarotti saw himself as a “peasant,” despite reaching fame and glory at a relatively young age. It didn’t come easy – the young tenor worked night and day, studying the great opera singers, practicing the vast variety of ways he could manipulate his voice. When fame did arrive, it did so abruptly and overwhelmingly, skyrocketing the talented young man to the highest echelons: he began to tour the world, performing at all the renowned opera houses, collaborating with pop stars and fellow tenors, and doing charity work – up until his death in 2007 from pancreatic cancer.
Pavarotti birthed three daughters with first wife Adua Veroni, and one with second wife Nicoletta Mantovani. His affair with the much-younger Nicoletta was deemed controversial – both she and Adua, as well as the daughters, talk about it frankly. What’s clearly palpable is that, despite everything, they still love their Luciano. Howard shares their affection, skirting by career pitfalls and potentially unflattering character traits. He even manages to gloss over his infidelity, making it seem like a passionate love affair, a calling of the heart if you will. And maybe it was; it’s difficult to judge from a doc this bias.
What’s undeniable is Howard’s muscular storytelling chops – at almost two hours, this doc flies by. Whether it’s Pavarotti’s connection with Princess Diana or Bono, the archive (and interview) footage is beautifully intertwined and well-chosen; the anecdotes are hugely entertaining. And then, of course, there’s Pavarotti himself. Charming, insecure and vulnerable, the truly gargantuan persona was also prone to silly jokes and goofing off. His earth-shattering voice alone would be worth 114 minutes of your time. I just wish Howard dug a little deeper underneath those thunderous vocals and the contagious smile.
Some claimed that towards the end of his career, Pavarotti’s voice began to deteriorate. Bono gracefully disputes those allegations, saying that each crack of his voice represents his heart being broken, over and over again. If Howard conveyed that heartache, if he followed up on those last, tender sequences of Pavarotti expressing regret, this would’ve made for a definitive documentary on the tenor. As it stands, “Pavarotti” deserves your attention, but is a few steps away from the sanctity of great biographical docs. It’ll glue you to the screen, but all that will remain days after are the echoes of the legend’s voice.
In select theaters Friday, June 7th
