Everything I Am on This Earth

In Angela Gheorghiu: A Life for Art, a memoir-cum-book-length-interview coauthored with journalist Jon Tolansky, the Romanian soprano recalls an early-career performance of “La traviata” in Salzburg. She was already on edge when she learned that the original conductor had been replaced by Riccardo Muti—whom she had specifically requested not to work with, fearing the Italian maestro’s reputation for being controlling with his musicians. “I had lived through twenty-five sufficient years of Communism, in which I had been constantly told what to do and how to do it and where I had no freedom of opinion,” she recalled.

Nevertheless, Muti was in the room from the first day of rehearsals, a tense process that culminated with the conductor firing the rehearsal pianist and taking over the job himself. At the end of one rehearsal, tenor Roberto Alagna—Gheorghiu’s husband and a close friend of Muti’s—showed up, even though he was not in the cast. “Because I love you as my son, I let you attend my rehearsals,” Muti told the tenor. Alagna countered: “Because I love you as my father, Angela sings here.” 

In that moment, Gheorghiu must have felt as though she were living her own version of “Traviata,” these two men in her life calling dibs on both her working conditions and her autonomy. Unlike Violetta, however, Gheorghiu was not content to live out the plot as it was written. “I have to sing ‘La traviata,’” she snapped at both men. “You were not supposed to conduct, you have no business here, so quiet, please…mi lasciate fare?” (“Will you let me do it?”) 

Out of context, it’s a mild example of the kinds of stories that have trailed Gheorghiu throughout her career: Legendary firings and fracases that have painted her as a temperamental diva whose life is an opera, both onstage and off. In a 2021 interview with Marina Poplavskaya, however, I was struck by a comment she made about the gendered nature of using “diva” as a four-letter word. Of all the sopranos she could bring up to illustrate that point, Poplavaksaya chose Gheorghiu: “In the newspaper, I’ve read disgusting articles [about her]. Who are these people? She has her opinion, she expresses her opinion in a polite way. She doesn’t throw, I don’t know, a cup of coffee in someone’s face.” 

I wanted to know how Gheorghiu felt about this. After all, I could project a century or so of feminist theory and revisionist history onto her story. Or I could honor her request and let her do it. We began by discussing her new album, “A Te, Puccini,” featuring the composer’s little-heard art songs, including a world premiere recording of his “Melanconia.” (She also returns to the “La Bohème” at London’s Royal Opera House; performances began yesterday.)

Angela Gheorghiu: You know, I believe very, very much in recording. 

VAN: Why is that?

It’s the only way to leave a testimony. When I was in Bucharest at 18, I did a lot of film recordings and television before my [professional] debut in 1990. 

And also, I must tell you something, as a person, as a human being, as a soprano—let’s say as a musician—and also everything else I am on this earth: When I prepare [for recordings], I never use a different voice. I’m never more relaxed. I have the same emotions, the same fire in me.… I’m the same in live performance onstage all the time, even in rehearsals. I can’t be otherwise. That’s why it’s simple for me and very natural. And I have the same passion. 

In 2003, you said that you didn’t want to put away old roles and only work on new roles. Twenty years later, you’re preparing to sing Mimì again at Covent Garden. How do you keep a role like that sounding fresh?

Having young people around me: my family, colleagues, and everybody—that’s one thing. But the answer is to be really cautious about your gift. I’ve done a lot of recordings and a lot of performances. But I don’t [sing] what is not suitable for my voice. I never said “yes” to a role and then changed my mind. When I say “yes” to something, it’s 100 percent perfect for my voice.… When I finish a performance, I can start it again. I’m not tired. I’m never tired after singing. I never had to go to a doctor for my vocal cords. I had no teacher, no pianist, no coach. I’m my own everything. I learned by myself, I studied by myself. I know what to do and what is suitable for my voice. I was born, I think, with this knowledge. 

Like an intuition?

Absolutely. Huge intuition. Because it’s not a joke when you sing. I sang my first “Bohème” in 1990, when I finished at the Academy. I also always wanted to have Mimì in my repertoire. First of all, because I feel like Mimì. I was in a boarding school for music and I know that kind of young artist, being in a boarding school or a house with my colleagues, dreaming—no money, no food, but happy. We thought we were kings and queens of the world! I was sure. I remember saying to my colleagues and to my mother, “You’ll see, I’ll be the most important opera singer!” So all my dreams came true. I need that kind of atmosphere; I love it.… And I’m glad to have a young Romanian tenor [as Rodolfo in this production]. I sang with him also in “Tosca.” His name is Stefan Pop. I always have a nose for good tenors [who can] make their debut with me. I’m also proud of that. 

That was your relationship with Jonas Kaufmann as well, wasn’t it? I remember the “Madama Butterfly” you recorded with him in 2008.

For Jonas, I did everything… I wanted in that period a new tenor for my “Traviata” at the Metropolitan Opera. But in the meantime, I asked him to sing “La Rondine” with me at Covent Garden. So I made his debut in Covent Garden, the Metropolitan, La Scala… I also gave him a manager, recordings, everything. I’m somebody who has a good nose!

What do you look for in a tenor? 

I tell you, in that period, I was married to another tenor. But after all these years, to be 100 percent honest… Of course, everybody told me to be diplomatic, OK. Jonas is OK. He will never be Roberto Alagna. Never. He can’t. Because he’s not Italian. He’s good, but far away from Roberto. I’m sorry, this is the truth. Everything I did with Roberto…now I can see the truth.… Maybe they’ll hate me for that, but he is very good. 

And also now I can see the new generation: Stefan Pop, he’s absolutely fantastic. Also, Jonathan Tetelman, Freddie De Tommaso—oh my God. They’re all three very good. Very good. I remember Roberto didn’t like that I recorded with Jonas and did a lot for him. But, I’m sincere. When I trust somebody, I trust he deserved that. I helped. I was very happy to do it. And I’ll never regret it, because I was right! 

Going back to your album for a moment, we know Puccini primarily through his operas. How do his art songs fit into our idea of him and his music?

All of these composers used the lieder melodies in their operas. Puccini used some of his lieder in “Manon Lescaut,” in “La Rondine,” in “La Bohème.” In all his operas, I find the same melodies. And they are all very different from “Melanconia,” the world premiere. It’s the first time someone has recorded this song, and thanks to the Puccini Foundation, they gave me his original scores. “Melanconia” is very hard, very dark. But the melody is fantastic, absolutely fantastic.… And what I like, which is like no other composer, is that the voice and piano—it’s a duet. It’s not an accompaniment piano. That’s very important. With this lieder, you can imagine it with an orchestra very well, like Richard Strauss. 

I’m glad you mentioned Strauss, because I’ve heard many other sopranos say that Puccini and Strauss were especially good at writing for the female voice. Do you find that as well?

Absolutely. 100 percent. Both of them. I studied a lot of styles of music from Monteverdi onwards. I think I’ve sung in more than 28 foreign languages. When I was a student, each month I prepared an aria and a lied. So I know all the sides of all composers. And that’s why I tell you that Puccini and Richard Strauss, they really understood how to compose for a human voice—especially for a soprano. To give you an example of the other side, a composer who didn’t know how to compose for voices was Richard Wagner. First of all, it’s too much. The human voice grows tired from singing too much in one night. Whoever sings Wagner cannot sing Verdi or Bellini or Puccini or other [composers]. You need to sing only Wagner, you destroy your voice, and basta. You have a big huge voice, and you sing only Wagner. He had no culture. 

Another composer, a genius composer who understood voices, is Mozart. And it’s not only that he understood the Italian school for voices, he also composed in the German school. How clever. That’s also why I adore [him]. Not [to sing] the roles onstage, because they don’t have enough personality for me. [Laughs.] For example, at the Met, they asked me and Anna Netrebko to sing “Don Giovanni” and to switch off as Donna Anna and Donna Elvira each night. But that wasn’t for me. I like to study the composers, and the ways they gained the knowledge to write for sopranos, like Puccini did. 

Having read so much about Puccini, do you think he put the women he loved into his roles? I’m thinking of a parallel like Liù in “Turandot” and Puccini’s maid, Doria Manfredi, who ended her life after being accused of having an affair with the composer.

I must study that. I know that journalists love to think about this, or some [other] drama.… But Puccini, like Verdi, they both were Italians. And they loved women. And they loved especially opera singers. To give you an example (also related to me, because I am Romanian): Puccini wrote “Tosca” for Hariclea Darclée, a Romanian soprano. And it’s thanks to her—because they started to rehearse “Tosca” with no aria for the leading soprano. Imagine! And she says, “Hello, Maestro? Where is my aria?!” And he composed “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore.” This aria, it’s me. Not only me, any opera singer. And thanks to Hariclea Darclée, we have that in “Tosca.” He really wanted to please sopranos. 

I can’t imagine the opera without that moment. 

But if you pay really close attention to the text, the aria is not related to the opera. Everything has stopped. In fact, for me, it’s a bit strange. I don’t know why on earth we have Scarpia onstage during her aria. [Puccini] was thinking, “Oh my God, where can I put this?” And he found that moment. So everything stops onstage. Even Scarpia disappears. And [Tosca] is saying that she gives her art, her music, her love, her life—as I am doing, always. 

I never lived without thinking about all of this, since I was three. I was born to sing this music for the people. To make these notes, these compositions, in a way mine and, at the same time, everything that’s in my soul, in my head—I share it with everybody. I gave everything. In fact, it’s exactly what Puccini wrote, word-by-word and note-by-note. 

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Without that moment, you don’t really see that soft side of Tosca. You see the jealousy and fire in her in Act I, but you don’t see that softness. We need the opera to stand still for a moment to see that.

But I don’t know if you noticed: In my film of “Tosca” and my “Tosca” from Covent Garden, I’m not that jealous, in my opinion. She’s not screaming at [Cavaradossi]. She’s not hysterical. There is a jealousy because she’s an artist—he’s an artist too! I was married to that, with an artist. I know exactly the atmosphere between artists. Lover-artists. It’s not the same. You play at being jealous. As Tosca, I play at being jealous. It’s different. 

Maria Callas hated the first act. I adore the first act. I think they were too serious [about it], in a way hysteric. You give too much in the first act, and you’re tired for the second act—the most important act. And that’s wrong. 

With this idea of Tosca being misunderstood, do you feel like you at times have been misunderstood? Especially by the press?

No. First of all, I think I never read any [reviews] about myself. I only read the interviews. The critics—I’m only interested in the title and also the picture. [Laughs.] I’m such a woman! And the rest… trust me. I think, for a performance, I know better than all the critics in the world for each sound. I also have my colleagues onstage. I have the chorus, and the orchestra, and the public. Thank you very much, I have a lot of opinions for one evening. 

That reminds me of a “Traviata” I saw you do at the Met with Thomas Hampson and James Valenti, where the curtain calls went on for so long that they had to turn up the house lights and start kicking the audience out so they could close the house. 

Really?

Yeah.

You can write that. I like it. [Laughs.]

And, oh my God, that production you saw. They destroyed it! I asked them, “Please, give me at least my costumes,” because they did them only for me, the costumes. For me, that was a killer. Because there was an unfair article for that “Traviata” many, many years ago at the Metropolitan, with a fake title. The New York Times said I said “No” to Franco Zeffirelli’s “Traviata.” It wasn’t true! 

The New York Times article to which Gheorghiu refers ran on April 4, 1998 under the headline “Hesitating Celebrity Couple Loses a Met Opera Contract.” The Times reported that former General Manager of the Met, Joseph Volpe, withdrew a contract for Gheorghiu and Alagna to star in the November 1999 premiere of Zeffirelli’s then-new staging of “Traviata.” Volpe told the Times that the couple had not signed their joint contract, which had been pending for two years, because they wanted approval over the sets and costume designs, something he never granted to singers. 

I was thinking more of that when I asked if you felt misunderstood by the press; not about the critics and performances, but about the rumors that get printed as fact.

Name me one rumor. Tell me one rumor. 

Well, for instance, that you turned down the Zeffirelli “Traviata” at the Met. Or the reports of “diva” behavior.

But I did not! 

No, exactly, that’s why it’s a rumor.

What happened there… I don’t want to tell you about this story. You can read in my biography, the real story of this. It’s a bit long, it’s better not to do it in an interview. 

In A Life for Art, Gheorghiu describes a meeting between herself, Volpe, and Alagna to review Zeffirelli’s production concept. At the meeting, Alagna presented Volpe with a series of set sketches designed by his brothers to replace Zeffirelli’s proposed vision. “I thought I would just die with shame,” Gheroghiu recalled. “The next day at breakfast, I read the New York Times headline—‘Hesitating Celebrity Couple Loses a Met Opera Contract.’” 

“The truth of that meeting came out very late and I could not say anything for so many years so as not to have arguments at home. It was not the first time Roberto had tried to push me into doing something produced by his brothers,” she added. “My career may have suffered because of all those situations when, due to family circumstances, I could not speak up.”

You’ve mentioned your relationship with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and Chorus. In the early days of the pandemic, you became a social media hero for the musicians who were furloughed, commenting on the Met’s Instagram posts to pay their orchestra and chorus members. What prompted that?

I had seen my colleagues making videos from their homes or from another hall, and I knew they’d been paid for that. And I thought this was unfair. How can you do that? How can you do that? I couldn’t imagine going to make a performance where I am paid and not the orchestra and the choir. Excuse me, you cannot do that. I cannot eat my bread with my money when my colleague has no money from that same evening. When you are a family, you give from the little bread you have, a little bit to everybody. You don’t leave somebody behind. You go there because you think you are a star? No. You are not a star without the orchestra, the chorus. You are not a star without the public, without the recording company. You cannot be a star in your home by yourself. 

I had seen one month, two months, three months [the musicians going without salary].… It was like a circus. And I was thinking, Oh my God, what can I do? I not only did what I did for the orchestra, but I sent emails and called the sponsors, all the big millionaires and billionaires: “Please help them.” I don’t know why I had this courage, but for me, the theaters in this world, they’re more than a temple. Starting from the porters. They are my family. I adore them. I can give my life for them.… You make me cry now! [Laughs.] ¶