I was a super three times when Mr. B was in San Francisco and saw him close up. Each times, he was a complete jerk to all of his colleagues. He also was not a musical singer. Actually, I came to think that he was simply very insecure, and his antics were to cover up.
I remember a Trovatore at Covent Garden with Dame Joan when he took an unscheduled top C at the end of Act 2 – she remained on an Ab. During the bows she moved away from him, further and further. She did not seem pleased. I wonder if she ever appeared with him again. He behaved better in L’africaine with Grace Bumbry at the same house- presumably he knew better not to mess with her……..
I understand there is a story of him cracking at the high C in “Di Quella Pira”, and then proceeded to sing it during his curtain call.
And I remember seeing a live recital performance of his where he wanted to repeat “Di Quella Pira” and the conductor did not want to, and they argued visibly in front of the audience. After he got his way he left giving a little jump.
It’s funny how easily people harp on Battle when they should also bring up the name of Bonisolli when it comes to misbehaving.
He did some Turandots with Marton in Munich, and probably elsewhere, that were ridiculously fun. I have no doubt that he was insecure, an asshole, and certainly not a subtle musician (and I definitely wouldn’t want to be subjected to him all the time), but as an occasional vulgar treat, few were better than Bonisolli.
I saw Bonisolli’s crudely belted Jose with the superelegant Berganza in CARMEN in San Fran. She looked like she wanted to kill him at the end… Calaf made a bit more sense, though Marton did indeed drown him out. But the Manrico opposite Dimitrova was vile– they were both outsung by the young Zajick and by Cappuccilli. I missed his 1983 AIDA with Leontyne, but did hear– from someone who heard it from Susan Dunn, her understudy- that during the dress rehearsal of the Triumphal Scene, Bonisolli said something and Leontyne walked out, sayin, “I don’t do nothin’ cheap.”. What on earth did he say? Did he suggest that she take an E flat? Anyone know about this incident?
I saw him once, at Covent Garden, with Rosalind Plowright and Stefania Toczyska, he was loud, noisy and vulgar and you never heard booing like it after ‘di quella pira’ and at the curtain calls. Poor soul. The hair didn’t help either, looking like something from a Victorian sofa, not to mention he always appeared to be so thrilled with himself.
On another occasion at Covent Garden he missed the top ‘C’ at the end of ‘ di quella pira’ threw down his sword and as one of the reviewers put it ‘visibly sulked’.
He was unique. How could one forget his pirate shirt open to the waist and thigh length leather boots in L’Africaine.
I even recall his UK debut in La Traviata in Edinburgh as an almost restrained Alfredo, with Clarice Carson as Violetta in a bustle, who did look like a well upholstered Victorian sofa.
I worked with Franco Bonisolli. He was indeed often vulgar and just plain meshugge, but actually not a bad musician at all, at least by any normal standards of what one would reasonably expect from an Italian tenor. He was also basically a nice guy. But he was pretty nuts much of the time, and it got in his way. He was obsessed to the point of distraction by Pavarotti’s success and was often heard to blurt out full voice, in the middle of rehearsals, “Due chili di voce, duecento chili de merda!”
Bonisolli was absoulutely unique. He never had been in a monastery. When his wife Sally was ill having cancer he tried to safe her life over years and lost the battle. That’s the reason why he stopped singing in the early 90. He was not a pazzo. He was deeply interested in esotheric and psycological themes. It was one of the greatest surprise for me realizing that when we build up our friendship. He was not really interested to talk about his career. he was more interested in talking about other things like philosophy. He knew a lot about it. At the end of his life he had an terrible tumor in the head. Don’t know how long he was living with that enemy inside him. I never met a tenor who was so generous in his recitals, where he sang almost 15 arias including such different roles like Ernesto, Nadir, Chenier, Manrico, Otello, Rodolfo, Eleazar, Werther, Loris, Lohengrin, Sou-Chong etc. I missed him and his singing quality very much.
I was a super three times when Mr. B was in San Francisco and saw him close up. Each times, he was a complete jerk to all of his colleagues. He also was not a musical singer. Actually, I came to think that he was simply very insecure, and his antics were to cover up.
I remember a Trovatore at Covent Garden with Dame Joan when he took an unscheduled top C at the end of Act 2 – she remained on an Ab. During the bows she moved away from him, further and further. She did not seem pleased. I wonder if she ever appeared with him again. He behaved better in L’africaine with Grace Bumbry at the same house- presumably he knew better not to mess with her……..
I understand there is a story of him cracking at the high C in “Di Quella Pira”, and then proceeded to sing it during his curtain call.
And I remember seeing a live recital performance of his where he wanted to repeat “Di Quella Pira” and the conductor did not want to, and they argued visibly in front of the audience. After he got his way he left giving a little jump.
It’s funny how easily people harp on Battle when they should also bring up the name of Bonisolli when it comes to misbehaving.
He did some Turandots with Marton in Munich, and probably elsewhere, that were ridiculously fun. I have no doubt that he was insecure, an asshole, and certainly not a subtle musician (and I definitely wouldn’t want to be subjected to him all the time), but as an occasional vulgar treat, few were better than Bonisolli.
I saw Bonisolli’s crudely belted Jose with the superelegant Berganza in CARMEN in San Fran. She looked like she wanted to kill him at the end… Calaf made a bit more sense, though Marton did indeed drown him out. But the Manrico opposite Dimitrova was vile– they were both outsung by the young Zajick and by Cappuccilli. I missed his 1983 AIDA with Leontyne, but did hear– from someone who heard it from Susan Dunn, her understudy- that during the dress rehearsal of the Triumphal Scene, Bonisolli said something and Leontyne walked out, sayin, “I don’t do nothin’ cheap.”. What on earth did he say? Did he suggest that she take an E flat? Anyone know about this incident?
I saw him once, at Covent Garden, with Rosalind Plowright and Stefania Toczyska, he was loud, noisy and vulgar and you never heard booing like it after ‘di quella pira’ and at the curtain calls. Poor soul. The hair didn’t help either, looking like something from a Victorian sofa, not to mention he always appeared to be so thrilled with himself.
On another occasion at Covent Garden he missed the top ‘C’ at the end of ‘ di quella pira’ threw down his sword and as one of the reviewers put it ‘visibly sulked’.
He was unique. How could one forget his pirate shirt open to the waist and thigh length leather boots in L’Africaine.
I even recall his UK debut in La Traviata in Edinburgh as an almost restrained Alfredo, with Clarice Carson as Violetta in a bustle, who did look like a well upholstered Victorian sofa.
I worked with Franco Bonisolli. He was indeed often vulgar and just plain meshugge, but actually not a bad musician at all, at least by any normal standards of what one would reasonably expect from an Italian tenor. He was also basically a nice guy. But he was pretty nuts much of the time, and it got in his way. He was obsessed to the point of distraction by Pavarotti’s success and was often heard to blurt out full voice, in the middle of rehearsals, “Due chili di voce, duecento chili de merda!”
Bonisolli was absoulutely unique. He never had been in a monastery. When his wife Sally was ill having cancer he tried to safe her life over years and lost the battle. That’s the reason why he stopped singing in the early 90. He was not a pazzo. He was deeply interested in esotheric and psycological themes. It was one of the greatest surprise for me realizing that when we build up our friendship. He was not really interested to talk about his career. he was more interested in talking about other things like philosophy. He knew a lot about it.
At the end of his life he had an terrible tumor in the head. Don’t know how long he was living with that enemy inside him. I never met a tenor who was so generous in his recitals, where he sang almost 15 arias including such different roles like Ernesto, Nadir, Chenier, Manrico, Otello, Rodolfo, Eleazar, Werther, Loris, Lohengrin, Sou-Chong etc.
I missed him and his singing quality very much.
and let’s not forget he is the Alfredo on the film of Traviata with my beloved and much missed Anna Moffo.