Meryl Streep as Florence Foster Jenkins

Last Saturday, I watched Meryl Streep's 2016 portrayal of Florence Foster Jenkins on TCM. I had written a piece on Madame Jenkins' devotion to music for The Christian Review in 2016, emphasizing the amateur aspect of her story. Jenkins loved classical music; she had studied piano and wanted to pursue a career as a concert pianist when younger but her father threatened to disinherit if she did. When he died and then when her mother died, she inherited the family fortune, so became a great benefactress to the arts in New York City. 

Then she pursued an operatic and classical music singing career in recitals, taking lessons, hiring the hall, paying accompanists and other musicians. The problem was that she could not sing; but the question of the movie is did she know she could not sing? 

The movie is beautifully produced with 1940's Manhattan as the location: lovely costumes, gorgeous decor, etc. The problem with all the characters is that the viewer cannot trust them--except for Madame Jenkins's accompanist, Cosme McMoon. He is willing to say that she can't sing but a combination of blackmail by St. Clair Bayfield and his own sympathy for her disappointment in not being able to pursue her concert pianist career makes him stay with her and accompany her on the stage, even at Carnegie Hall. Everyone is deceiving themselves and willing to be deceived, perhaps for the right reasons (?). 

The end of the movie is poignant and I won't give it away, in case you haven't seen it. It led me to think that she DID NOT know she could not sing arias or art songs.

Here's a documentary that offers many more details than the movie can/does.

At about the same time as the Meryl Streep movie came out in theaters, the mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDinato starred in The Florence Foster Jenkins Story, in which what Jenkins sounded like and what she thought she sounded like are contrasted:

A mix between drama and documentary, the film explores the career of Florence Foster Jenkins. Called the worst singer in the world, she pursued a career as an opera singer, staring in the 1920s, in New York City. Despite her lack of natural talent, and vocal technique, she performed in prestigious venues, and recorded records that are still sold today. Cole Porter, Gian Carlo Menotti, Lily Pons, and Sir Thomas Beecham, were counted among her fans, while Enrico Caruso is said to have “regarded her with affection and respect.” She remains a fascinating figure to this day.

Reviews of this effort on Amazon.com are definitely mixed . . .

For the Christian Review: Amateurs and Music

My comparison/contrast essay on Florence Foster Jenkins and Gilbert Kaplan has been posted on The Christian Review site:

From France and the USA/UK, two movies have been made recently about the same woman. The French movie, titled “Marguerite,” presents a fictionalized version of the story, while the U.S. film, starring Meryl Streep, is presented as a “biopic” titled simply “Florence Foster Jenkins,” with the explanatory subtitle, “The Inspiring Story of the World’s Worst Singer.” . . .

Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944) loved music; she attended concerts and operas; she studied singing; she wanted to perform. She had the money and time to dedicate to the art of classical singing; to learn the languages and the arias; to pay her accompanist and to rent the concert hall.

The only problem: Florence Foster Jenkins could not sing on pitch. Or in rhythm. Or even with proper diction. There was indeed a medical problem as her husband had, like Isak Dinesen’s, given her syphilis. Nevertheless, she fulfilled her dreams of singing on stage.

The two movies examine this story to depict what happens when someone so self-deluded takes the delusion public. It’s one thing to sing the Queen of the Night aria from Mozart’s “Die Zauberflöte” in the shower (you’ll swallow lots of water!), another to sing it on stage at Carnegie Hall. Sample her efforts at singing Mozart here. . . . .

Perhaps a counter-balance to her story is Gilbert Kaplan’s fascination and dedication to Mahler’s Second Symphony, the “Resurrection.” Kaplan, who died at the age of 74 on January 1, 2016, followed the same path as Mrs. Jenkins—but as a conductor.

He earned his money on Wall Street in financial publishing and went to a performance of Mahler’s Second conducted by Leopold Stokowski in 1965; it changed his life. With money enough and time, he studied the score; he learned how to conduct; he traveled around the world to hear live performances of Mahler’s massive symphony: five movements; 90 minutes long; 100 piece orchestra; large choir; soloists; offstage brass and percussion—and an organ!

Then he conducted the Mahler Second Symphony with several world-class symphony orchestras, recorded it twice, and still continued to study it. There was quite a debate among critics and even symphony orchestra musicians whether or not he truly conducted the performances or what he contributed to the interpretation of the masterpiece.

But Kaplan’s dedication bore great fruit and he became known as a specialist on the “Resurrection” Symphony. He purchased the autograph manuscript and published a facsimile, co-editing the latest critical edition of the symphony. Kaplan never accepted a fee for his conducting engagements and limited them to three outings with the Second Symphony annually, the only work he conducted in public, although he did record the “Adagietto” from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. When the Vienna Philharmonic, which Mahler conducted, invites you to conduct and records the results, you have succeeded.

Read the rest there, of course.