Pavarotti

The world is about to fall in love with Luciano Pavarotti all over again, owing to director Ron Howard's lavish new documentary "Pavarotti," about the larger-than-life Italian tenor. Pavarotti died of pancreatic cancer in 2007, his storied career the stuff of opera legend.

Luciano was a superstar who conquered the international opera stage and brought the music back into the streets - from China's Red Square to small towns across the U.S., in benefit rock concerts in stadiums around and the charity concerts with Princess Diana and everybody from Queen, Grace Jones, Stevie Wonder, and U2.

Pavarotti was the driving force in getting Jose Carreras, recovering from leukemia, back on stage. With fellow divo Placido Domingo, they became the three tenors, debuted at the 1980 World Cup, which launched a record-breaking worldwide tour.

Pavarotti famously confessed that he never knew whether he could, be "King of the High Cs," as he was dubbed. Not only did he hit them, but they're so much more to than pyrotechnics to Pavarotti's technical artistry and peerless dramatic acting, and director Howard explored those aspects in the film.

Howard goes back and forth in time to reveal different aspects of Luciano's personality, triumphs, tragedies, and storied career. The tenor tells the story of almost dying of tetanus at age 12, and, after getting out of the hospital, wanting to embrace all that life had to offer.

In his hometown in Italy, Pavarotti was studying to become a primary school teacher, but his mother encouraged him to pursue a singing career. His father, a baker (and amateur tenor himself) wanted his son to remain in education, but the young Luciano instead, pursued a music career.

His first professional role was in Puccini's "La Boheme," as Rodolfo, in 1961 in Italy, but he was such a gifted natural his International breakthrough took place shortly after at Covent Garden in London, when he substituted for ailing opera star Giuseppe di Stefano. His first European tour followed, co-starring with soprano Joan Sutherland.

Opera stars of the era who performed with Pavarotti discuss the uniqueness of his voice, which set him apart. And U2 singer Bono sums it up in one interview when he worked with him when Pavarotti's voice was less powerful than it once was, stating that, critics just don't get it, "he lived all of those roles he played, all of that is in his voice."

Howard doesn't avoid standard documentary conventions of a lot of talking heads, but all substantive rather than fawning observers. Howard's ripe Interview clips by Pavarotti and audio voiceovers of the star are well chosen, his larger-than-life personality, not to mention his girth, fills up the screen naturally.

The excerpts of his performances in his most famous roles are mostly truncated, unfortunately, but what Howard includes is pure gold - starting with an opening scene with Pavarotti traveling on a small boat up the Amazon River to a remote town to sing in an opera house that Enrico Caruso sang 100 years before him.

There are intimate interviews with Luciano's first wife, Auda (nee Veroni), and their three daughters, and interviews with women who had long affairs with Pavarotti. The affairs hit the tabloids, with photos of the star kissing Nicoletta Mantovani, whom he married and with whom he had a fourth child, while he was on tour in the Caribbean. His divorce from Auda, his wife of 40 years, was a scandal in Italy, and it almost broke his family, but the relationships eventually survived and his former wife and his daughter are candid in their remembrances.

When war broke out in Sarajevo in the '90s and genocide ravaged the population, it was something that Pavarotti had experienced as a child at the hand of the Nazis. He talked Bono into writing 'Sarajevo Girl,' and he performed it with U2 to raise money for war refugees.

The most arresting scene in the film is of Pavarotti performing in Rome for the last time toward the end of his career. Placido Domingo was conducting Orchestra del Teatro dell Opera Roma with Pavarotti as Mario, who is about to die. Pavarotti was ailing himself but sang 'E lucevan le stelle' (one of the most difficult tragic arias in all of opera) and his voice was simply transcendent. His vocal clarity was shattering, and the audience erupted with such sustained much applause that it suspended the performance.

Those moments live forever now through Howard's wonderful portrait of an indelible opera superstar for all seasons.