The King and I: The Uncensored Tale of Luciano Pavarotti's Rise to Fame by His Manager, Friend and Sometime Adversary

by Herbert H. Breslin, Anne Midgette, Herbert Breslin

Book Overview

The King and I is the story of the thirty-six-year-long business relationship between Luciano Pavarotti and his manager, Herbert Breslin, during which Breslin guided what he calls, justifiably, "the... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0385509723
• ISBN13: 9780385509725
• Release Date: October 2004
• Publisher: Doubleday Books
• Length: 308 Pages
• Weight: 1.40 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.0" x 6.4" x 9.4"

Customer Reviews

TALENT AND CHARACTER IN UNEQUAL MEASURE

This would be a five-star review if it were not for a couple of revelations about the tenor which are the result of mean-spiritedness masquerading as honest intimacy. By contrast, Pavorotti's dignified response at the end of the book causes me to wonder if he read it thoroughly. Otherwise, the author is on solid ground in relating the basis for their mutually beneficial relationship and in his comparisons to Domingo who was also a client for a time. Breslin presents Pavarotti as having the sweetest sounding voice with a brightness of tone and an ability to phrase that were unmatched by anyone else in his time. Not surprisingly, his repetoire was full of Italian bel canto - the better to show off his attributes. By comparison, Domingo had a much larger repetoire and facility in more languages and was simply much more ambitious. He was limited by not having a high C and in general lacked Pavarotti's brightness in the upper register. The one was a essentially an instinctive lyric tenor and the other was an intellectual, dramatic one. What is most important is understanding that Breslin and Pavarotti could have such success because he could appeal to a much broader audience than Domingo due to the immediately assessible greatness of his voice. They could overlook his serious limitations as an actor. By contrast, a casual listener would have difficulty understanding that Domingo worked harder and did more to reveal the many dramatic tenor roles as a premier actor. Domingo would wonder why don't they rise to their feet? Pavarotti would say, I will make them rise to their feet! I found parellels in popular entertainment. Pavarotti's unique gift and lack of discipline remind me of Brando. At the same time, his singular tone reminds me of Sinatra who also produced sounds that no one else has ever replicated. Like Sinatra, his sound and phrasing were the perfect combination with which to express the emotional meaning of the lyric. This combination in turn triggered corresponding emotional responses in audiences longing for release in the way Brando altered an audiences' realization of how naked and real an actor's performance could be. But Domingo's pushing his talent and constantly learning, tackling new challenges is very much in the Sinatra mold.

operatic dish --

Really what you have here is a comfy sort of chat between one friend (Herbert Breslin) and another (you, the reader). And this is exactly what it should be! It's very easy to read, nothing complicated at all, just pure enjoyment. Some of the reviews of this book say that it's nasty and mean-spirited, but I don't agree. Of course, we all have our cranky aspects, some more than others. And I believe it to be very true, that it's all too easy for any celebrity to begin to believe his or her own publicity, even if someone else is responsible for it. If you only ever have to put your hand out to have whatever you want placed there, why wouldn't you do just that? If you are gifted with a truly immense talent, and want to use it as it should be used, you'd have to have an enormous amount of confidence in yourself at all times. That's nearly impossible, so it's only reasonable to presume you'd also need a person (or several persons) to bolster your ego from time to time, just in case it should slip a bit. Considering the joy that Luciano Pavarotti has brought to the world in the last 45 years, he's probably earned a few quirks. Chances are that he's elongated his career by cancelling some of his earlier scheduled appearances. I don't necessarily think he should have done that, but I can't sing like he does either, so how do I know (how does anyone know) why he backed out of so many performances at the last minute? It's not like he's the only artist who's ever done such a thing. Herbert Breslin is as hard on himself as he is anyone else in this book. He wasn't always so nice, either, and he doesn't shy away from admitting it. He was brilliant most of the time and made a lot of money for a lot of people, including himself. But if you choose to believe what he says in his book, he did it for the right reasons--the love of opera and classical music. It's hard to fault that, if you happen to love those art forms, too. Breslin made it possible for a lot of us to hear things we might not otherwise have heard, or even known about. The birth and fantastic expansion of television played a major role in publicizing artists, and Breslin took advantage of this in many ground-breaking ways. He used the talk shows to bring--and keep--his artists in front of the public with creative exuberance. There are several pages devoted to the Pavarotti film Yes, Giorgio. Pavarotti could be generous to a fault, wanting to share his largesse, and Breslin does not stint in telling of some of these incidents, too. Especially so in the pre-Three Tenors phenomenon, when José Carreras was first struck by his illness. It must be noted, also, that Pavarotti agreed to this book, and in fact, gave an interview to co-author Anne Midgette. After a few false starts in other directions, Breslin began his career as a publicist, and over time, his client list reads like a Who's Who in opera, with a few other big-name entities as well. He worked with--and for--conductors, instrument

Compulsively readable backstage memoir

Herbert Breslin, one of the most successful managers of classical artists, whose roster included Joan Sutherland and Alicia de Larrocha, among others, has produced this tell-all memoir about his most famous client, Luciano Pavarotti. Well, it's mostly about Pavarotti. Breslin also manages to include quite a bit about himself, his formative years, how he got started in the business of classical music management, his other famous clients, all quite interesting stuff. However, as the title indicates, the main course is the King of Tenors, and Breslin paints a frequently affectionate but ultimately unsparing portrait of a man whose ego and demands were as outsize as his body and vocal talent. Breslin takes his share of credit for a career that not only produced artistic triumphs such as Pavarotti's sensational Met performances with Sutherland and unexpected successes such as Mozart's Idomeneo, but also equally spectacular public disasters such as the Pav's ill-starred foray into Hollywood filmdom, "Yes, Giorgio." Along the way there are many choice anecdotes about other luminaries of the operatic world such as Birgit Nilsson, Renata Scotto and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf that keep the reader turning the pages. Breslin's ego is clearly as outsize as Pavarotti's and why not? His list of clients who made major careers speaks for itself. The inclusion of snatches of interviews by people he mentions in the main text, giving their own perspective on events Breslin mentions, provides some balance. Most startling of these is a final word from Pavarotti, who appears to bear no grudge against Breslin, and who indeed looks back on their thirty-six year partnership with affection. It appears Pavarotti has given his final operatic performances (he returned to the Met for a last hurrah a year after the sensational cancellations Breslin describes), and a serious examination of his artistic and vocal accomplishments will no doubt be written sooner or later. In the meantime, Breslin's book will keep classical music aficionados mostly entertained, and occasionally horrified.

PAVAROTTI - UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

The opera's not over `til the manager sings. At least that's the case in Herbert Breslin's no holds barred dishy tale of his 36 years as manager, friend, and yes, foe of the famed Luciano Pavarotti, arguably the most well known name in contemporary opera. It's all here - the temper, the tackiness, the brilliance. Of their years together Breslin writes, "Sometimes he was a great, great client. Sometimes he acted like he ruled the world around him and everyone in it, including me. Sometimes he was a close and generous friend. Sometimes he was a real pain in the ....." All of those descriptions are fleshed out with witty, wrathful, and appreciative accounts of their days together. "The King & I" is one of those bios in which one learns as much about the "I" as we do about "The King." As it turns out, that's pretty good reading, too. Breslin begins when he was 33-years-old working as a speech writer for Chrysler in Detroit. That, he calls misery. After all. He's a New Yorker, and he loves opera. Determined to become a part of the opera world, he began by working for John Crosby who had just founded the Santa Fe Opera. His salary? $0.00. All he had was determination and a huge hunk of chutzpah. Little did he know that some day he would manage the most famous names in the world of classical music - Renata Tebaldi, Alicia de Larrocha, Marilyn Horne, Placido Domingo, and, of course, Luciano Pavarotti. Initially, according to the author, Pavarotti was amenable, eager to please. Yet, there must of been some inkling of his later demeanor in the fact that never once in all their years together did Pavarotti ever go to Breslin's office - Breslin always came to him. After five years together Breslin felt very much a part of the Pavarotti family, visiting the tenor's home in Modena, Italy, a number of times. He describes it as a place that was always full with Pavarotti a congenial host. Adua Pavarotti, the singer's wife was in complete charge of their financial affairs as well as having almost total responsibility for the raising of their three daughters, Lorenza, Cristina, and Giuliana. Early on, Breslin felt that Pavarotti had the makings of super stardom, and he began to devise a plan to achieve this. Of course, singing at the Met was wonderful but Breslin saw it as too confining. He didn't want Pavarotti to leave the Met, he just wanted more. More was to come - the recordings, television, recitals, outdoor concerts, Madison Square Garden and, of course, the piece de resistance - The Three Tenors. However, there did come a time when, as Breslin describes it, "Working with Luciano was like coming under machine-gun fire." Their relationship came to an end, with Breslin deciding that Pavarotti cared for no one but himself. Obviously, no one really knows for whom Pavarotti really cares or how he felt about the break-up of their long term relationship. What is known is that the tenor contributed an epilogue for this

King of the High C's!

Author Herbert Breslin wrote a wonderful book on tenor Luciano Pavarotti. The book is full of tidbits and stories during Luciano Pavarotti's career with manager Herbert Breslin. Pavarotti started working with Herbert Breslin in 1967, and in 1968 he made his debut at the Metropoliton Opera. It was in the famous aria "Pour Mon Ame", of Donizetti's opera "Daughter of the Regiment", that Pavarotti went into "orbit". The peak of Pavarotti's career was a big sell-out at New York Madison's Square Garden to 20,000 people. Author Herbert Breslin writes candidly about Pavarotti's affairs with his "secretaries", and his wife Adua whom he eventually divorced. This was very heartbreaking, and the only part of the book I found distressing. The later part of the book Herbert Breslin writes about is the "Three Tenors", in which Domingo, Carreras, and Pavarotti got together for several concerts. The second concert they gave was a spectacular concert at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles. Bravo Herbert Breslin for an enjoyable read; I could not put the book down. The book is a must for all classical music lovers and opera afficiandos!