THE GREAT CARUSO: Blu-ray (MGM, 1951) Warner Archive

In only 3 movies, Mario Lanza reached the apogee of his very brief career with director, Richard Thorpe’s The Great Caruso (1951), a free-flowing adaptation of the life and times of world-renowned opera tenor, Enrico Caruso. Over the decades, comparisons between Lanza and Caruso have abounded. During his time, Lanza was, in fact, billed by MGM publicity as ‘the next Caruso’ – a moot analogy, since Caruso was an operatic singer, while Lanza, much inspired to live up to the great man’s legacy, remained a movie star, intermittently permitted to sing various operatic arias, effortlessly blended with cleverly calculated facsimiles, rearranged to faintly hint of a classical refrain. The two movies Lanza made with Metro’s reigning soprano, Kathryn Grayson – 1949’s That Midnight Kiss, and 1950’s The Toast of New Orleans were box office smashes that L.B. Mayer hoped would resurrect the halcyon yesteryears for the studio of a Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald. Alas, t’was not to be as Lanza’s ego quickly soured Grayson on partaking any further and Mayer, ousted by New York management in favor of Dore Schary, was no longer Lanza’s champion. Schary was not a fan of musicals, though he could sincerely recognize the studio’s supremacy in hand-crafting them. And so, Lanza remained on the payroll…for a time, but popped into highly questionable material to leave him deflated and worse, feeling exploited, merely to capitalize on inferior product that in no way advanced his desires to eventually become a great opera star.

The Great Caruso is an opera lover’s dream, Lanza, belting out 22 arias and 3 more tunes written expressly for the film – the hit song, ‘The Loveliest Night of the Year’ becoming an immediate standard. If nothing else, the screenplay by Sonya Levien and William Ludwig  suggested by Dorothy Caruso’s biography of her late husband, is a deftly crafted connective tissue that allows for Lanza to do what, arguably, he did best – sing. The magnificent range, depth and power in Lanza’s voice has never been equaled. Nor, has his legacy diminished in these many years since his untimely passing in 1959, age, 38. On celluloid, at least in these early efforts, Lanza appears as the raven-haired, drop-dead handsome Italian with a golden voice, congenial, light-hearted and self-assured. Regrettably, in life he was far more complex and, like Orson Welles, imbued with a certain mean-spirited streak of self-destruction that caused him to over-indulge on food and wine, resulting in a shifting temperament to leave many in his inner circle deeply concerned for his health. Mayer thought the world of Lanza and did everything in his power to whip his new leading man into shape, hiring a personal trainer to keep his weight in check.  Had Mayer stayed on, Lanza might very well have had a different trajectory at MGM, as Mayer fervently believed in his talents and saw to it the movies under his auspices were enjoyable, escapist musical fantasies, popular with audiences, but moreover, quality affairs both Lanza and Mayer took great pride in bringing to the public.

Begun under Mayer’s aegis, The Great Caruso has all the self-assured? hallmarks of quality the studio could afford its great star; Joseph Ruttenburg’s gorgeous Technicolor cinematography, Johnny Green’s superb orchestrations, and, Cedric Gibbons and Gabriel Scognamillo’s art direction reaching its zenith under producer, Joseph Pasternak – an irrefutable master of this sort of lithe and lovely pastiche to high art. Lanza had hoped to pay homage to Enrico Caruso with this movie – largely a fabrication, and so much, the Caruso family sued MGM for damages and won their case. It serves the fictional rags to riches story best to suggest Lanza’s Caruso steadily rose through the ranks as an operatic chorister until his big break. In reality, Caruso emerged fully-formed as an international opera star, a disciple of Puccini.  The movie also infers Caruso’s Metropolitan Opera debut in Aida was met with indifference. Actually, the debut was a success, the real Caruso appearing in Rigoletto – not Aida – and instantly captivating audiences and the critics. For concision’s sake, Lanza’s Caruso meets his future wife, Dorothy Park Benjamin (Ann Blyth) in 1903, shortly after his first appearance at the Met. In life, Caruso did not find love until nearly fifteen years later. Good thing too, as Dorothy would have only been 3 years old in 1903. Again, for artistic purposes, the lovers in this movie are parted by Caruso’s world tour – something that never actually happened in life. Finally, Caruso fathered two sons with Italian soprano, Ada Giachetti, in a rather notorious affair that lasted from 1898 to 1908. Giachetti was married at the time, and, as there was no divorce in Italy, the children were considered bastards. MGM’s complete omission of this chapter in Caruso’s private life was likely due to the still stringent edicts of Hollywood’s self-governing code of censorship – a forgivable loss. But the movie’s final ‘death’ scene for Caruso, collapsing on stage and dying back stage of a throat hemorrhage, is pure Metro pulp. The real Caruso did suffer a throat hemorrhage. But this only prevented him from performing L'elisir d'amore at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on December 11, 1920. Caruso then sang at a concert on Christmas Eve. He did not die until August 2, the following year, and, in Naples. Speculation as to the cause of death being peritonitis persists, following a lengthy illness and several surgical procedures to correct the problem.

The Great Caruso was a titanic hit for MGM – their biggest and brightest bell-ringer of the season, setting a record at New York’s Radio City Music Hall with a staggering box office intake of $1,390,943 in just ten weeks. The movie’s final worldwide tally tipped the scales at $9,269,000, resulting in $3,977,000 pure profits for the studio – by any and all accounts, a mega hit. It ought to have clinched Lanza’s longevity at Metro for many years to come. Alas, gifted with his extraordinary presence and talents, all Dore Schary could think of now was to put his biggest box office star into a routine programmer, Because You’re Mine (1952) to capitalize on his celebrity. That movie proved so disastrously pedestrian and unworthy of Lanza’s time and effort, he endeavored to behave very badly throughout the shoot to prove his point – that he was far better than the material being forced upon him. Alas, Lanza’s prima donna-esque outburst was ill-timed. Indeed, Schary had no tolerance for stars who did not know their place, and this, along with Lanza’s ballooning ‘figura’ during recording sessions for The Student Prince (1954, and a movie Lanza desperately wanted to make) resulted in Schary placing Lanza on suspension but keeping his vocals, the role recast with the infinitely slenderer and statuesque Edmund Purdon, effortlessly lip-syncing to Lanza’s tracks.  

Despite its artistic liberties, critics were over the moon for Lanza’s performance in The Great Caruso, drawing favorable comparisons between him and his alter ego, and singling out his ‘impressive dramatic power’ as the real selling feature. Bosley Crowther, however, was quick to point out that the picture had been conceived with the “…silliest, sappiest clichés of musical biography” and directed by Thorpe “…in a comparably mawkish, bathetic style.” There is something to this. Removed from the hype preceding it as the next great ‘Mario Lanza’ movie, and the instant pre-processed fame of Lanza himself, to buoy attendance on name recognition on a marquee alone, The Great Caruso is perhaps the least enjoyable of the aforementioned first three movies in Lanza’s repertoire, not because it lacks in any particular department, but rather because it overdoes it in so many, while somehow failing to ignite an occasional spark of originality. Running barely 2 hrs., and crammed with 28 examples of Lanza at his best, there is virtually no time for any sort of character development here or buildup of the romantic core of the piece. Lanza’s costar, Ann Blyth (who would appear again in The Student Prince without him) is a wan ghost flower of Kathryn Grayson. Although Grayson could not hit a high ‘C’ to save her life, she possessed the matchless wit and temperament to be considered a formidable counterpart to Lanza’s forceful screen presence. Blyth is lovely, and, occasionally, in good voice – if nowhere near the caliber of Lanza’s pipes. That said, she somehow lacks the generous offerings of a truly ‘great star’ – or rather, one desperately outclassed by her co-star in this movie. And thus, the whole picture is Mario Lanza. When he sings, there is nothing to touch him. But the Levien/Ludwig screenplay is so sentimentally overloaded and so bereft of one original thought or memorable bit of dialogue, the net result here is mere connective tissue to get Lanza from one aria to the next, leaving little to no room to enjoy Lanza outside his musical performances, or, indeed, the chemistry between Lanza and Blyth, decidedly listing to one side.  

Lanza – a truck driver from Philadelphia who aspired to greatness and, in fact, achieved immortality in the movies, the kind that is both humbling and daunting because it comes upon the unsuspecting ingenue all at once, and, demands so much – total human perfection from the fans – for arguably so little in return – fame (all of it, fleeting) and money (just enough to be hanged with one’s vices, if such a self-destructive predilection exists) – would medicate his growing insecurities with food and alcohol. Indeed, Johnny Green recalled in 1977 how Lanza, acutely aware he had become a pop icon much too quick, increasingly felt ashamed of the public adulation, while pining for the opera career that would never be his. “He had an unusual, very unusual quality ... a tenor with a baritone color in the middle and lower registers, and a great feeling for the making of music. A great musicality. I found it fascinating, musically, to work with Mario.” Indeed, in the wake of bad press and MGM’s loss of interest in his career, Lanza idle and in despair, sought comfort in a rather reckless abuse of alcohol. His co-star from 1955’s Serenade, soprano, Licia Albanese was enamored with his vocal quality. “He had the most beautiful lirico spinto voice. It was a gorgeous, beautiful, powerful voice. He had everything that one needs. The voice, the temperament, perfect diction. All he needed was coaching. Everything was so easy for him. He was fantastic!”

But around this time, Lanza retreated to Italy to work on Seven Hills of Rome (1958) - also, to give a command performance for Queen Elizabeth II at the London Palladium, and then embark upon a concert tour throughout Europe. Ill heath prevented Lanza from appearing several times during this tour, resulting in some rather cruel speculation in the press it was his temperament that had gotten the better of him. The ironically entitled, For the First Time (1959), made under duress, reveals a star badly ailing, looking bloated and careworn. Suffering from phlebitis and acute high blood pressure, Lanza attempted to whip himself back into shape after the movie, undergoing a crash diet at a nearby clinic. It proved too much for him. While recuperating in house, Lanza quietly died of a pulmonary embolism. Betty Lanza, who had stood by him throughout the exuberant highs and nightmarish lows was absolutely devastated, barely outlasting her husband by five months, dying from an apparent overdose of sleeping pills. In what is perhaps the cruelest twist of fate, only one of Lanza’s children survives him today. Son, Marc died from a heart attack in 1991, age 37 – a year younger than his celebrated father. Daughter, Colleen was struck by a car while crossing the street in 1998, lying in a coma for nearly two weeks before dying from her injuries. Son, Damon-Anthony passed away in 2008, age 55, from diabetic complications and heart-related issues. Thus today, daughter, Ellisa (nee Bregman) continues to administer her late father’s estate, and is, among her many wonderful attributes, both frank and honest about what life on the other side of fame was like for the family in the many years since Mario’s passing. 

There will never be another Mario Lanza. While tenors have come and gone since his time, virtually none possess that rare and intangibly raw animal magnetism that could rattle the rafters as much as it connected on a purely emotional level with an audience, to burrow deep within and strike the indelible chords that could – and did - touch our collective soul. That presence is still alive whenever a Mario Lanza recording is played. His carols at Christmas are genuinely affecting in the purest spirit of celebratory Christianity, while his movies continue to stand the testaments of time as wonderful declarations of a faux operatic legacy captured on celluloid. Indeed, the greatest of tenors, to include Pavarotti, Placido Domingo and José Carreras have all cited Mario Lanza and The Great Caruso as their inspiration. Thus, an uncanny reality remains; that Lanza, who aspired to be known as an operatic tenor, but never actually became one, has, through his movies, been the beacon for countless artists, since to have made a life’s work of their music. This too is legacy of a kind, and one ironically won. For, if Lanza had gone the route of an operatic career in his own lifetime, forgoing the movies, he would likely have remained only known to that devout following who genuinely cherish such paragons in live performance. As a movie star, the reach of Mario Lanza’s legacy is far greater. For some time now, he has belonged to the ages, although I sincerely suspect his daughter would have preferred a father, still alive and with us, to an icon. And really, who can blame her for that?

The Great Caruso arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive in an utterly superb 1080p transfer putting all previous home video incarnations to shame. Much, though not all of this 4K image harvest has been mastered from original 3-strip Technicolor negatives. A few reels are absent, owing to a devastating nitrate fire at George Eastman House that ravaged their back catalog of classics long ago. For these absences, we have competently derived, thoroughly restored first-generation masters. To some, the transitions in image quality, toggling between these disparate elements will be mildly jarring. But WAC has done an absolutely incredible job here to homogenize the disparities into an almost seamless recreation of what this must have looked like in 1955. The ‘wow’ factor is really present, with eye-popping brilliant colors, exceptional contrast, and wonderfully subtle film grain. Remember, Technicolor was a ‘grain concealing’ process. This looks naturally smooth and creamy – a delicious confection from vintage Hollywood and MGM at its zenith. The audio remains 2.0 mono, but is exceptionally nuanced. Indeed, The Great Caruso won an Oscar for Best Sound.  Interestingly, RCA/Victor, Lanza’s recording label, released an album entitled, The Great Caruso to coincide with the movie, featuring 8 arias, of which only 4 were actually heard in the movie. But none of these recordings were derived from the movie’s soundtrack. Rather RCA had Lanza do new recordings, accompanied by their in-studio orchestra. It would go on to become the first opera LP to sell over a million copies. To date, no complete soundtrack of the actual movie soundtrack has been released to CD. In 2008 Rhino/Handmade did release a Mario Lanza at MGM compendium to include several songs from The Great Caruso, in addition to songs from Lanza’s other movies. Precisely why we have never been afforded the opportunity to get a complete and remastered retrospective from Lanza’s movies remains something of a mystery – especially, a CD of MGM’s The Student Prince.  Bottom line: The Great Caruso is an absolute feast for Mario Lanza fans. While the movie – as an entertainment or a biopic – falls decidedly short of expectations, as an opportunity to experience Lanza’s magnificent tenor in all its full flourish, it has virtually no peer. An absolute must have!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

0