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Articles & Interviews 1998 |
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Leading Man
Poised as opera's leading man
Tenor José Cura sounds like a star; it can't
hurt that he looks like one
USA Today
12/11/1998
David Patrick Stearns
WASHINGTON -- Long ago, opera fans resigned themselves to having the brilliant, heroic tenor voice encased in the dumpiest of bodies and deployed by the dimmest of intellects. Then along comes tall, smart, handsome José Cura.
So is it any wonder that this 36-year-old Argentine is being mentioned in the same breath as the hugely successful Three Tenors? Perhaps the ultimate endorsement comes from one of the three, Placido Domingo, who acted as conductor on Cura's Puccini Arias disc as well as for his just-concluded run in Samson et Dalila at the Washington Opera. The two also will share the Metropolitan Opera opening night in September 1999. In a double bill, Cura will sing Cavalleria Rusticana, Domingo I Pagliacci.
Cura wears Domingo's mantle casually. It's simply a collaboration between friends. ''People tend to think that everybody hates everybody in the opera world, but often it's the contrary,'' he says over lunch at the Watergate Hotel.
No doubt Cura is maintaining his sanity amid such heady life changes by not dwelling on the large picture. Cura recently tantalized the opera world with an acclaimed performance of Otello, the summit of Italian tenor roles. He'll record it in a few years -- details of the project are top-secret -- which should allow him to write his own career ticket.
Whether or not he has vocal longevity, he has strength of character. A trained conductor, composer and man of many opinions, he's been called arrogant. Cura thinks not: ''I think the word 'secure' was canceled from the dictionary.''
Security is essential in the seesawing, backbiting opera world. In Cura's case, it comes from having so many skills other than singing. He orchestrated and composed parts of his new solo album of Argentine songs, Anhelo. He's also a body builder and kung-fu expert. And with a wife and three children waiting for him at home in Paris, his priorities ensure that any given performance is hardly a do-or-die experience.
''I've never had a big disaster onstage. And if I make a mistake, I feel terrible. In soccer, you can be in front of the goal and miss it. You can be in front of a high note and have a problem. The more developed your technique, the better your health, the better your chances are'' of avoiding disaster.
From the way he talks, it all seems rather easy. Granted, he's had years of training in Argentina, but he's still learned 30 roles in the past four years, including the leading tenor role in La Forza del Destino in one day. But he's careful not to fall back on his own facility: ''Getting the notes in the throat, that takes time. You can't even estimate that.''
That can be particularly difficult with the creaky dramaturgy that often comes with the great music of opera. In fact, Cura's run in Samson was the first time he'd been heard in the USA in something he likes. In Chicago, he sang Fedora, an opera he calls ''a bitter pill,'' and in Los Angeles, it was Norma, in which ''you feel like you're in the middle of nonsense.''
That, combined with the opera world's penchant for making egotistical monsters out of the nicest of people, makes one fear that he might follow in the footsteps of the also-young tenor Roberto Alagna, who is walking out on major opera companies but enjoying a booming recording career.
Cura defends Alagna while stressing that he has his own career route: ''He's a human being and has the right to choose how he wants to make his life. But I'm like a racing animal. You can use it to do many things, but the moment it's in the track, it's happy. I can sing concerts, pop music, do a movie, whatever. But the animal in me feels complete, satisfied and fulfilled onstage.''
Last Updated: Wednesday, November 14, 2007
© Copyright: Kira
