Serenade /Cavalcade of Show Tunes with Mario Lanza
by James Kilbourne
BMG has released two Mario Lanza albums from 1956 on one CD: “Serenade” and “The Cavalcade of Show Tunes”. It was Christmas of that year when I received “Serenade” as a present. My grandmother, who had been a singer, and my older brother Don were the two people in my life with whom I could share my love of music. I am not entirely sure which of them gave it to me, but I remember the overwhelming impact it had. At one point, I played Nessun Dorma so many times that a relative begged me for mercy. I was just beginning to listen to complete operas at that time, and this album, which has selections from some of the greatest works of Verdi, Strauss, Cilea, and others, sent me searching in several new directions.
I remember seeing the “Cavalcade of Show Tunes” in the window of the local record store in what I think was the spring of 1957. I know I had to save money for some time before I could get it, as it cost $2.98, a formidable sum for me in those days. I find listening to the “Cavalcade” especially nostalgic, as the songs are presented in the order that I learned them back in the fifties.
Coming back to these two albums has been quite intense for me. I know every single word and note of both of them. I can still hear now non-existent scratches that were an inevitable part of the records of that time. But today I am hearing them with almost 50 more years of living behind me. I now know earlier and later Lanza, and a lot more about human nature. I love these recordings, but I am also taken aback by how sad they make me feel.
In 1956, Mario Lanza had come through the most difficult years of his life. Going from Hollywood’s “Golden Boy” in the late forties and early fifties to Hollywood’s “Bad Boy” of the mid-fifties, he had seen his meteoric career burst into a trail of cancelled films and concerts and botched “live” TV appearances.
“Serenade” was his comeback movie, to be made by Warner Brothers, after his MGM debacle with “The Student Prince”, where he ended up having to lend his voice to another actor. I decided to watch “Serenade” again—not that it has been that long since I saw it last.
I know that “Serenade” is a dark movie, but what had happened to that radiant face of “The Toast of New Orleans” and “The Great Caruso” from a few short years before? And what had happened to that man who was so in love with life that you almost had to look away from him to keep yourself from shouting with joy and running into the sunlight? He seems to look like a different man in every scene. Most of the time he doesn’t look well.
And what of the voice? It had definitely darkened over the last years, but it was generally less sure of itself than it had been. At 35, a tenor is in his prime. In “Serenade” his voice had matured into the most glorious sound I have ever experienced. But I can hear that he hadn’t practiced nearly as much as he used to. He frequently seems unfocused, and I even feel a lessening of the sheer joy of singing that was his trademark. In some instances, singing had become hard work for him, not the unabashed pure explosion of exultant sound that it almost always had been. Many of the high notes are badly strained, and attention to basic vocal rules is sometimes lacking. In much of this album, Lanza sounds as if he is trying to prove himself. He sings “La Danza” and “Torna a Surriento” with less verve in the case of the first and less tenderness in the case of the second. But Lanza’s only competition is Lanza at a better time. To me, the Strauss “Di Rigori Armato il Seno” and the Otello monologue “”Dio! Mi potevi scagliar” are the stand-out performances. The Otello here is a highlight of a highlight, and makes you crave a complete recording, which, of course, never was to be.
And what can be the reason that Jean Fenn sings with Mario Lanza? I understand that she had “connections”, but did anyone listen to her caterwauling in “O Soave Fanciulla”? Why hadn’t a music lover put a stake through her heart in the middle of such catastrophes? If it is part of the story that she be bad, whose bright idea was it to have her “bad” with MARIO LANZA in one of the great love duets of opera?
The title song “Serenade” and “My Destiny” are so over-sung and strained by Lanza that they are painful to listen to. There are much better renditions of these songs in the movie. And who decided to have the audience leave the theater with positively the worst high C Mario Lanza ever hit ringing in their ears? At least on this CD it is first, and mercifully over with quickly. In the movie, a bad beginning to a beautiful recording of the Schubert “Ave Maria” is corrected. Here, the slightly-off beginning remains.
The last number on the “Serenade” collection is the bonus alternate version of “Serenade” that is presented here in its first public release. This song is just a little over a minute, but that is enough time for Lanza to cast a magic spell. He starts off uncertainly, feeling his way. You know with practice he would have made this part much more fetching. But soon he grows to the challenge of the nearly impossible tessitura of the song. And now we are at the climax: “We can face the morning unafraid. We’ve got the night. We’ve got our love. We’ve got our serenade!” I had never heard of this alternate “Serenade” until I read an article by a man I had also never heard of named Lindsay Perigo. He describes the rapture of this musical moment eloquently. This was the first article I had ever read where I realized that someone else on the planet actually heard Lanza the way that I do. (I have since been introduced to Derek McGovern’s beautiful writings on Lanza. He fought valiantly with BMG for this CD, and we can all be grateful to him for his many successes).
The trailer for the movie should have opened with a close-up of Lanza singing, “We’ve got the night! We’ve got our love! We’ve got our serenade!” The announcer should then come in and say, “Mario Lanza is back, and he is greater than ever!” And everyone should leave the theater filled these last notes, ready to romance the entire world.
If Mario Lanza had worked with people who were his artistic equals he would have been greater than ever. Maybe that is too much to ask for. Hell, if he had worked with people who could HEAR him, the final product could have been electrifying. He was understandably uneven after such a difficult period in his life. Wasn’t there anyone around who knew music, knew what this man meant to music, and cared enough about both the music and this sensitive artist to help him regain his footing? Didn’t anyone want to preserve his legacy for the wonder and betterment of future generations?
In a civilized world, Mario Lanza would have been cared for like the Hope diamond. In his career, he would have been singing with Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi, not Jean Fenn and Kathryn Grayson. Everything would have been done to help him develop his golden voice and open his radiant heart. He would have been shown his own value and, unburdened of all the small-minded sycophants and daily drivel that make life difficult for all and impossible for the great, he would have been granted the serene periods a great artist needs to replenish his soul. Every morning, someone would have come to him and said, “Let’s go discover beautiful things together. Let’s get healthier, stronger, smarter today.” Instead, he was surrounded with an indifference that shown to an average artist would be an insult, but to Mario Lanza was a grotesque monstrosity. How could his self-esteem not be damaged by the chilling sense of unimportance that surrounded all his efforts? Can you hear the music director and the Warner Brother’s executives sitting around and saying, “It doesn’t matter. Either put that wobbly, strained, inferior 'Serenade' in there or that other 'Serenade' which captures the great joy of being alive and finding the one person in all the world that matters to you. Either one is okay”? Whose confidence wouldn’t be shattered in such a world?
Although not his finest singing, the second half of this CD, “The Cavalcade of Show Tunes,” is great Lanza. This is an artist who is back on stride, and who is well aware of his own worth and power. Although still suffering somewhat from the lack of care to the final product shown by letting some unnecessary errors go uncorrected, these recordings have sterling sound and show a man in the full sunshine of his summer years. The voice is huge, round, and dark, even if the legendary perfect pronunciation leaves him on occasion (particularly in Gianina Mia). The joy of life is consistently back, and we are not just listening to some nice songs, we are being taken on a great adventure through the world of love by one of life’s greatest adventurers. You hear in this album the early signs of the last great Lanza recordings, particularly the “Mario!” Italian songs and his opera recordings in his last movie, “For the First Time.”
“Cavalcade of Show Tunes” is grand Lanza: not the boy-next-door charmer of earlier years, but a man in full maturity. The songs range from the sweet (“I’ve told Every Little Star,” “Gypsy Love Song”) to the near-operatic (“Yours is My Heart Alone” (marred by some pitch problems), and “Thine Alone”). In particular, I love the last two recordings, “Only a Rose” and “Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!” This is the joyful, swaggering, great romantic hero par excellence. You come away from it ready for the world and grateful for every moment of life you have. How magnificent and big life is meant to be!
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