GREEK
FIRE reviewed in the October 2000 issue of W
Never have
the gossip-friendly realms of money, art, celebrity, sex and scandal
come together with such earthshaking force as they did in the summer
of 1959, aboard a richly appointed yacht, the Christina, as it plied
the waters of the Aegean Sea. The infamous three-week cruise-which
drove a tempestuous opera diva into the arms of a billionaire shipping
tycoon while their respective spouses looked on, awestruck-is at
the molten core of Greek Fire: The Story of Maria Callas and Aristotle
Onassis (Knopf), Nicholas Gage's meticulously researched and absorbing
chronicle of one of the 20th century's most spectacular love affairs.
It has often been remarked that the Callas-Onassis liaison resembled
a grand opera of the sort that La Divina, as she was known, sang
with such furious passion. A more accurate comparison would be to
three or four operas, plus a drawing-room farce and a Sophoclean
tragedy, all woven together with strands of Hellenic myth. To begin
with, of course, there is the unhappy fairy tale of Callas' career.
She turned herself into the most celebrated opera star in history,
in the process utterly destroying the precious instrument that made
her a legend. At the height of her powers, she largely abandoned
music and devoted herself to Onassis, only to be tossed aside when
Jacqueline Kennedy caught his eye, spending her final days secluded
in her Paris apartment, popping sleeping pills and watching TV Westerns
with her poodles. To this melancholy arc, Gage adds some startling
details, such as the bizarre tale behind the diva's dramatic weight
loss early in her career, a transformation brought about when, sources
say, she intentionally ingested a tapeworm. Following his ill-considered
marriage to Jackie, Onassis too would experience more than his share
of calamity (of course, he also had more than his share of everything
else). He no doubt imagined that he'd offended the gods somehow
as, in quick succession, his various business endeavors began to
founder; his beloved son, Alexander, was killed in a plane crash:
his ex-wife, Tina, married his detested rival, Stavros Niarchos,
and died soon after, and his own health began to falter. Onassis'
employees attributed all these setbacks to the "Jackie jinx." Meanwhile,
his frantic attempts to win Maria back, whistling "the sailor's
whistle" outside her Paris apartment mere weeks after his remarriage,
came to naught. This astonishing jet-set saga has been breathlessly
chronicled from the moment it began, but Gage, a former investigative
reporter for the New York Times, is intent on stripping away the
tale's patina of fantasy (much of it applied by Onassis and Callas
themselves), and he approaches the task with a doggedness Kenneth
Starr surely would admire. He studies the layout of the ship, for
instance, to determine the most likely spot for the couple's assignations.
"They probably would have chosen the largest launch," he decides,
"on the port side of the boat deck, just forward of the plane."
He pores over paparazzi shots for clues. And he obtains interviews
with a host of eyewitnesses who have steadfastly refused to speak
before, among them Callas' devoted maid. She confirms the book's
most explosive revelation, that Maria gave birth to Ari's son, Omero,
who died the day he was born. (With characteristic zeal, Gage also
uncovers not only the death certificate but a photograph of the
child's lifeless body.) The addition of this tiny but pivotal character
to the drama lends further resonance, as if any were needed, to
an altogether grievous love story.
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