Charisma

By Broadcaster Peter Shimkin

The dictionary defines charisma as “compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others.” This doesn’t really capture the magical quality of the phenomenon. I think this quote from an anonymous source captures its essence: “I was walking through a market square recently in a small rural town. A crowd of people had gathered. They were listening to a man speaking. I stopped and listened for 20 minutes, even though I couldn’t understand a word he said. I couldn't help it. This person had what I would describe as serious charisma.”

LIFE magazine first made me aware of the term when Robert F. Kennedy ran for President in 1968 and attracted large ecstatic crowds, many of whose members reached out just to touch him as he rode by in an open limousine.

When we think of charismatic classical artists, the first that comes to mind is Maria Callas. What other classical performer has ever commanded enough public interest to warrant a front-page headline such as “Bing fires Callas” warranted? Or who attracted packs of paparazzi? Who else ever had the cream of society, including the President of France show up for a concert of arias? Her legend never seems to diminish. Her recordings still sell well, and fans still insist that none are better, even with substandard sonics and in the later years of her short career, with vocal decline. Explanations include “it’s the phrasing” or the “superb diction.” Nonsense. It’s the charisma.

I’ve experienced charisma live with only a few classical musicians and each exerted her or his spell in a unique fashion.

Luciano Pavarotti. Here the charisma is easy to explain. In addition to the best male voice I ever heard, his outgoing personality begged to be loved. When he appeared as the Calaf in Turandot at the Met late in his career, it made no difference that he couldn’t act or move around without the assistance of two burly extras dressed as guards. I was sitting in a side box seat. Looking down at the orchestra seats one could feel the audience’s love sustaining him.

Anna Netrebko. Yes, she was beautiful, was a great actress even in real life flirting with interviewers and had a top notch voice. What was unexplainable was when she was onstage, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. All her co-stars acknowledged she sucked the oxygen out of the room. Just as in Hollywood, among a surfeit of beautiful women, there is always only one “it” girl.

Leontyne Price. She attributed her fame to her voice. Certainly it was one of the greatest of the 20th Century. However her charisma came from being a pathbreaking African American who preserved her pride and dignity at all times. She was the only star I ever saw who drew a noticeable number of African Americans to the opera. I was seated next to two such ladies when she performed Leonora’s last act aria D'amor sull'ali rosee from Verdi’s Il Trovatore at the NY Philharmonic. She gave a pianissimo on the concluding high note which hung in the air until one of two ladies shouted out “Mercy!” That must have touched Leontyne even more than the prolonged applause which followed.

Leonard Bernstein. Great musician and conductor. Sincere flamboyance was the key to his charisma (unlike, say Liberace’s which was a Las Vegas act). I remember two concerts. The first was in the late 1970s when he conducted the 6th symphony of Shostakovich. He emoted all over the podium in its long gloomy first movement and danced in its two short, almost kitsch last movements. Notwithstanding, the music was mesmerizing. The second reminiscence occurred during one of his last appearances with the NY Philharmonic, conducting Mahler’s 3rd Symphony. Midway through the Brooklyn Boys’ Choir filed in for the bim-bam chorus of the 5th movement and then sat on-stage for the long purely orchestral finale. The boys were in awe: sitting silently with their mouths open and their eyes fixed on him throughout. What 9-year-old boy has ever remained still and silent for over 30 minutes? By the way, the music was transcendent.

Pianist Martha Argerich. She was well known for her technical prowess and tendency to cancel performances. I was lucky to have seen her three times. At the NY Philharmonic, she entered to great applause. At the beginning downbeat of the Prokofiev Third Piano concerto, the audience became silent; not a single cough for 30 minutes. Indeed, it seemed that no one dared to breathe. In the second movement she seemed to go into a trance, apparently lost in her own world. The conductor, Charles Dutoit, kept the orchestra in sync by looking down from his podium at her fingers on the keyboard. At the end of the piece, the place went crazy with applause. I’ve heard other outstanding performances of the piece, but never with such an audience frenzy. Here I have no ready explanation for the charisma. Some critics of those unenlightened times suggested that with such an attractive female the music acquired sex appeal.

It is worth going out of your way to take in a charismatic artist who almost guarantees a memorable experience. Let’s hope that Gustavo Dudamel will prove to be one when he assumes the post of conductor of the NY Philharmonic. I was at a Hollywood Bowl concert shortly after he began as music director in Los Angeles in 2011. At the end, the crowd was chanting Dudi, Dudi, Dudi! Can you imagine an audience of staid New Yorkers at David Geffen Hall behaving likewise? If he has true charisma, it could happen.