A friend’s request has brought to my attention that it has been awhile since I had written anything about the world of entertainment. I was probably too preoccupied with my righteous indignation over the ZTE deal and the reopened Garci scandal to even notice that there was anything entertaining at all.
It is therefore a little saddening that my first entertainment article in ages is about the death of the King of the High C’s, the great tenor, Luciano Pavarotti. He finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer last week and was buried last Saturday in Modeno, Italy after thousands of mourners, entertainers and international leaders came by to bid him farewell.
What the heck, I won’t even pretend to be civilized enough to like opera but I remember my reaction distinctly when I learned about Pavarotti’s death. I couldn’t believe it. At the back of my mind I had always envisioned that he would be alive forever, or at least long enough to entertain the world’s first alien tourists or something. His name has been linked to this era and it seems unimaginable that he is no longer in it.
His unmatched talent, genial nature and willingness to explore the unthinkable (a marriage between pop and classical opera) brought his art to the common people. In our third world country where the closest we could get to opera was Regine Velasquez’s histrionics, Pavarotti’s art was an opportunity to see the world in a different light.
Pavarotti is survived by his children, second wife and (sniff) his four year old daughter.
I hope you are now singing alongside God’s angels.