I forgot Maria Callas's birthday. Shoot me.

Nevermind. I guess I did sort of celebrate it. Someone somewhere posted a video clip of Maria Callas in the Paris Norma. Sound had been dubbed over from the in-house recording. How exciting to watch how deliberate an representational her acting was. I've always been of the opinion that naturalistic acting simply does not translate well in the house; in fact, it often becomes unbearably boring. I mean, look at how people act in real life—we are clumsy, ungraceful, figdety, or stalk-still. I see enough of it everyday; it sucks to see it on stage.

Then I got on a little weekend Callas kick. I love Callas the Show Stopper. I am particularly enamoured of her inclusion of the high e-flat at the end of the Triumphal Scene in Aïda. If you're an operaphile, you probably already know the story, but for those that are newbies, the history of this interpolation seems to have begun with Ángela Peralta, a famous Mexican soprano of the later mid-1800's. Peralta debuted in opera at the age of 15 as Leonora in Il Trovatore. Amazingly, her repertoire came to include Lucia di Lammermoor, Amina in La Sonnambula, Rosina in Barbiere, and Aïda (which she was the first to sing in Mexico).

Maria Callas debuted in Mexico City at the Palacio de Bella Artes in May of 1951. It didn't take long for the audience to warm up to her. The story is recounted on Opera-L (which I believe is paraphrased from some Callas biography):

After the dress rehearsal for Aïda, held on May 29, [impresario Antonio] Caraza-Campos asked Maria to sing the e-flat that the Mexican soprano of the eighteenth century Ángela Peralta used to sing at the end of the second act. She answered after a guffaw that it was impossible because many reasons, it was not written, she should ask it to the conductor and her colleagues, which she was not to keen to do, i.e. to ask, and lastly that it was of bad taste.

The premiere of Aïda came on May 30, with Callas as the Ethiopian princess, Simionato as Amneris, Baum as Radames, Rober Weede as Amonasro and Moscona as Ramfis. After Celeste Aida, Baum had a great ovation as Maria after Ritorna vincitore. During the intermission after the first act, Moscona went to Maria's dressing room where he spoke to her in Greek igniting her anger, apparently conveying some things said by the tenor. She called Diaz-Dupond and asked to go to the conductor Picco and the other singers, with exception of Baum, asking permission to sing the e-flat "because if Baum tries to f… (fregarmi) keeping the high tones, he will surely listen to them". When she sang that legendary E flat happened all what the diva was pursuing, the theatre became a mad house in frenetic applause and Baum exploded. During the curtain calls at the end of the second act, Baum, in English, told her "You will never sing in America, this was a real 'porcheria'", she just answered smiling and going out to accept the love of the audience, "We will see… "

Maria rather enjoyed the interpolation—so much so that she included when she returned to Mexico City the next year. This recording is taken from one of those 1951 performances (alas, no recording of Ángela Peralta). Mario del Monaco is an heroic Radamès; Oralia Dominguez, the raw and wild Amneris.

Maria Callas et al. - Triumphal Scene from Aïda, Mexico City, 1951

The greatly underrated soprano Marisa Galvany took up the torch in the 70's when she included the high e-flat interpolation in some Aïdas (again in Mexico City). Of course, these performances may be more famous for when one of the camels took a huge dump onstage (in true Handelman style, I must say, "Mai più). I don't have that run on mp3, but I do have Galvany's Triumphal Scene (with e-flat, natch) from San Jose in 1971, I think. Grace Bumbry and some dudes I've never heard of are also in the cast.

Marisa Galvany et al. - Triumphal Scene from Aida, San Jose, 1971

And then we have Millo. Lord, ô Lord. Whatever, we all know what she's like. Basically, the personified form of the phrase, "No, you shouldn't have." The e-flat starts out well enough, but then it curdles and collapses. I mean, I dunno; was she trying to do some sort of blue note bend? To her credit, though, Nello Santi takes that final stretto so fast, I'm sure Millo didn't even have a chance to snatch a breath; it is a barrage, rather than a natural rhythmic impulse to help set up the voice.

Aprile Millo et al. - Triumphal Scene from Aïda, Met in the Parks, 1986

Oops.