Callas, Callas, Callas

Maria Callas, “The Divine”, was endowed with “three voices,” it was said, due to her exceptional vocal range. Described as having the talent of a “dramatic coloratura soprano,” an 19th-century term for her unique timbre. A charismatic woman and artist, possessing a powerful and theatrical voice, she was skilled in blending singing and acting, capable of fiery and engaging interpretations in embodying both seductive and tragic female characters. Her name is engraved in the history of opera. And beyond. Art and style, triumphs and acclaim, glamour and personal affairs intertwined in the life of Maria Callas, “The Divine”. She is also remembered for her diva tantrums, the mystery of her drastic weight loss, chronic insomnia, the child she never had, her friendship with Pasolini, and, above all, her ill-fated liaison with shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis, who left his wife for her, only to abandon her and marry Jackie Kennedy. Callas died, suffering and alone, in her Paris apartment on September 16, 1977, for causes not yet determined. On the centenary of her birth, amidst tributes already celebrated and others underway, that of the COB Compagnia Opus Ballet directed by Rosanna Brocanello, holds a particular significance also for the originality that inspired it: entrusting three young, and already established, contemporary choreographers to create an evening production that reflects their personal vision of the legendary artist, without intending to recount her life story. Three different perspectives, therefore, three approaches and renditions in dance that the beautiful title Callas Callas Callas already highlights. A title that also serves as an invitation, for the audience, to discover or rediscover within the folds of movement or the ensemble’s choreography, among electronic sounds or fragments of famous arias scattered throughout the choreographic architecture, within a light or a costume that shapes gestures and postures, their own Callas. Or perhaps a new, unseen one, suggested, evoked, imprinted in the atmosphere and memory by abstract dance. Surely, three famous arias will be recognized, whether subtly hinted or prominently displayed: from Tosca, Norma, and Carmen.

Roberto Tedesco merges the notes of Vissi d’arte with the electronic musical score composed by Giuseppe Villarosa, incorporating also snippets of interviews and voice interferences. In the famous aria’s lyrics, extracted from Tosca, the Calabrian choreographer identifies the moment when Callas is at death’s door, wanting to reaffirm to everyone that she lived deeply for art and love as simply a person, a woman, before being considered a diva. It is mainly in the sound structure that the choreographer imbues his vision of Callas’s life, almost wanting to prepare the audience – quoting George Balanchine – to “see the music and listen to the dance.” Tedesco weaves an imaginary dramaturgy with an almost chronological musical journey, from the years in New York where Callas was born, to her Greek origins; from Italy, which, with La Scala Theatre, brought her the greatest success, to France where she eventually retired. Vague jazz sounds initially allude to America, then those of the Bouzouki to Greece, and a 1970s pop song to the mood of suffering that accompanied her. On a gradually increasing techno rhythm, a choral dance pulsates within the bodies – male and female, a single entity -, dressed in stylized