When I say Cherie Gil, I bet you think, "You're nothing but a second-rate, trying hard, copycat!"  Furthermore, you imagine the abrupt tipping of the wine glass, and Sharon Cuneta's sodden, miserable face in Butuing Walang Ningning.

          Maria Callas, on the other hand, is a reference that's a little more obscure to the younger set, unless you were weaned on opera, like some children are--part of that old belief that all things classical transmutes babies into geniuses ready to stride out of the womb.  I myself grew up in a heady cloud of musty old pop: The Cascades, Neil Sedaka, Nat King Cole, a little Abba.  Opera it was not.  The lucky fact that I even knew a little about Maria Callas stems from mundane dinner conversation, many years ago.  Like most interesting factoids, it was laced with a little scandal:  Maria Callas, the great soprano, had an affair with Aristotle Onassis.  And Onassis is another one of those sticky names that accrue labels: billionaire, shipping magnate, and of course, Jackie O's husband (As a side note though, Maria Callas came before, not after Jackie.  At a glance, it seems like the classic case of a rich old man trading up to a younger model, matrimony-wise.)

          It's all a bit sordid, I know, but the human mind seems to want to collect the worst details.  That and memorable movie lines.

          Of memorable lines, Maria Callas seems to have many attributed to her.  "When my enemies stop hissing, I shall know I'm slipping," refers to early hardships establishing her career as an artist in the--pardon the pun--cutthroat world of opera.  She was also quoted as saying that comparing her to Tebaldi--another soprano, and supposedly her rival at the time-- was a travesty, like comparing champagne to Coca Cola. 

          If I may say so...Ang taray!  =)

          I mean "Ang taray" in the best possible way, of course.  But she does look a bit fierce, don't you think? 

         Fabulous, no doubt, but almost untouchable, a diva even in pictures.  Of course, Cherie Gil also has that glorious diva aura about her, a certain steel-rod-down-the-spine quality that one cannot help but respect and even fear, just a little bit.

          In a masterful stroke, the universe has conspired to bring these two characters together in a play, the ultimate meet-cute.  Cherie Gil plays Maria Callas who, in delirious monologues, is at turns Aristotle Onassis and Giovanni Meneghini (Callas's first husband) as well.  It is all deliciously complicated, and scandalous, and brilliantly feathered, as only a true diva's life can be.



           A brief backgrounder: The play is set in Juilliard, where Callas taught a master class in opera from 1971 to '72.  Aristotle Onassis had just wed Jackie O, leaving Maria Callas just as she had finally severed her marriage to Meneghini.  It is tragic all around.  In the ultimate ironic twist, shortly after the wedding, Callas got cast as Medea, that archetype of the "woman scorned."  Jason of the Argonauts too had traded up.  More's the pity.

           But that's not what the story is about, not really.  It is the tapestry which colors the scene, but it is not the scene itself.  The story is about art.  And life.  Discipline.  Devotion.  High drama.  Fire.  Gumption.  And above all, how to sing: the sweet desperation, the total loss of self to the character, the whole out-of-body experience.


      Cherie Gil seems to have an out-of-body experience herself, fully inhabiting the role of the humorous but deadly sharp teacher, one of that rare breed whom you either love or hate as a student, but whom you never forget.  The suspension of disbelief is complete: at a glare from those serpentine eyes, you sit a little bit straighter, listen a bit more attentively.  She will not repeat herself twice.  And no applause please.  There is work to be done.

The Callas in Master Class is full of aphorisms: 

     "To be remembered, you've got to have a look." 

     "Art is domination." 

     "Vowels are the inarticulate sounds of the heart.  In consonants lie the meaning." 

     To a student wearing a short skirt, "The public that looks at you from down there sees a little more of you than you might want." 

     Chiding a student for not bringing a pencil to make notes with:  "At the conservatory Madame de Hidalgo never once had to ask me if I had a pencil. And this was during the war, when a pencil wasn't something you just picked up at the five and ten. Oh no, no, no, no. A pencil meant something. It was a choice over something else. You either had a pencil or an orange. I always had a pencil. I never had an orange. And I love oranges. I knew one day I would have all the oranges I could want, but that didn't make the wanting them any less."

      Everything is a pronouncement, delivered to the point, and weighty as holy writ.

* * *

         Of course, there is that matter of historical correctness: Was this really what Maria Callas was like?  General consensus seems to be that McNally did take some liberties with the characterization of Callas.  For one, according to accounts, she was not as acerbic as the character in Master Class was.  Also, of the quotes above, only the one about the skirt is true.

         Makes me feel a bit sad, really.  I liked the character a lot (Brava to Cherie Gil for a brilliant and intense performance).

         Still, artifice is meant to highlight some greater truth.  In this case, I think it is that art as a higher calling can also be a ravenous pit to which you surrender yourself completely.  Most of the time, it is worth it.  Or is it really?

        Of Callas herself, who knows what happened?  She died of a heart attack, five years after her Juillard stint.  Who knows what she was really thinking?  That there are no definite answers means we are all free to draw our own conclusions.  The Callas in Master Class is ultimately tragic, plagued by demons of the past. Multiple comparisons are made to Medea the Jilted One. 

        The real-life Callas seemed cool as a cucumber here in her interview with a younger Barbara Walters.

           Muy elegante, no?

           There were also rumors that she was still seeing Aristotle Onassis even during his marriage to Jackie.  Another version, that one.

           Still, my favorite theory is that she got herself a younger boyfriend, ala Demi Moore.  Fanfare and racy scandal are necessary in an ending fitting for La Divina herself.  No tears shed over rich old men, please!

* * *

          Master Class will run at the Carlos P. Romulo Theater, RCBC Plaza on October 17, 18, 23, 24 and 25, 2008 at 8:00 p.m.

          For inquiries please call Philippine Opera Company at 892-8786 or log on to www.philippineoperacompany.com or TicketWorld

[Many thanks to Ms. Lorna Lopez, and Ms. Karla Gutierrez  of the Philippine Opera Company, for graciously inviting us to watch Master Class take shape]