Music: The Marvelous Miliza

Manhattan’s voice connoisseurs gathered in Carnegie Hall this week to witness an important event: the U.S. debut of a famous coloratura soprano. Curiously, the singer had not been near an opera house in almost a decade. To the U.S. public she was known chiefly as the lush blonde whose lighthearted warbling had been the feature of the lavish Hollywood musical The Great Waltz. Her name is Miliza Korjus (pronounced Mlit’sa Kor’-yoos).

Among vocal connoisseurs Miliza Korjus’ silvery, agile recordings of such challenging arias as the Bell Song from Lakmé and the Queen of the Night Aria from The Magic Flute had roused admiration and curiosity. But until this week, almost none of her phonographic fans had heard her in the flesh. When she walked on Carnegie Hall’s stage and launched into Lucia’s Mad Scene and an assortment of Mozart and Verdi fireworks, they lent attentive ears. Soprano Korjus flatted on a couple of high notes, sang a phrase or two off pitch. Her high Ds and Fs were a little strident. But she handled most of her arias with grace and ease. By the intermission, her fans had already reached a verdict: Miliza Korjus is not quite as good as her recordings, but she is one of the best coloraturas U.S. concertgoers have heard in a decade.

In the Tradition. First-rank coloratura sopranos seldom appear oftener than once in a generation. The nearest thing to such a voice that this generation of U.S. operagoers is familiar with is the neat, flutelike warbling of Lily Pons. She is the capable but hardly startling descendant of a great line beginning with Jenny Lind and including Adelina Patti, Nellie Melba, Luisa Tetrazzini, Amelita Galli-Curci. Measuring Korjus against the yardstick of their memories, old-timers placed her somewhere near the Pons mark, admired the warmth, vibrancy and agility of her voice, which reminded them slightly of Melba’s.

Miliza Korjus’ belated U.S. debut seemed of a piece with the rest of her eccentric career. Daughter of a Swedish diplomat and a Polish woman, she was born in Warsaw. Traveling all over Europe in the course of her father’s assignments, she attended some 16 continental conservatories, winding up at Paris. While there, she was spotted by RCA Victor recording scouts, got her first recording contract while she was still a student. Miliza Korjus was married to a Swedish engineer who wanted her to settle down and raise a family. But her records created such a furor that she was catapulted into a career in spite of herself. They attracted Germany’s famed Conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler, who auditioned her for the Berlin Opera. She sang there, off & on, for a couple of years, recorded about 50 arias for Victor on the side.

Under the Spell. By 1937 Korjus records had reached Hollywood, where they delighted M.G.M.’s directors, who were looking for a lead for The Great Waltz. Korjus thus became a movie celebrity before the U.S. musical public had even heard of her. Then Korjus was injured in an automobile accident, spent nearly a year in a Santa Monica hospital writing a book “on the transmutation of my spiritual life.” Recovered, she disappeared into Mexico, for four years let the musical world go hang. As she explained it later: “I fell in love weeth a man.”

Divorced from her husband (“I gave heem back to his family”), Miliza Korjus now considers Hollywood her home. She owns the Spanish-style villa Rudolph Valentino built just before his death.

Even today, Miliza Korjus’ vocal career is hard pressed by her zest for life. She dislikes singing in opera houses. “Averybody ees perspiring around,” she explains, “the preema donnas are screaming, the stagehands are shouting. I am much uncomfortable een opera performances—besides, I do not like to haf to look over the heads of all the tenors” (she stands about 5 ft. 7 in her stocking feet).

Though she is a past master of the whole coloratura repertory, she has probably done less opera singing than any other important singer alive. As she expresses it: “I nevaire got seriously eento eet. To be a success you haf to fought for eet, and I didn’t fought.” After this week’s recital it looked as though Korjus was destined for a U.S. operatic future, whether she fought or not.