Summary
Spotlights erupt over a gilded Metropolitan auditorium where Ethel Warren—voice still carrying Alpine frost from her European finishing—steps into the electric haze of an American debut. Jean Paurel, the velvet-toned baritone whose name alone sells out boxes, circles her like a planet pulled by twin suns of desire and self-adoration. In the wings lurks Carlo Sonino, young, hungry, trembling with timbre yet to be discovered, already branding his heart with Ethel’s silhouette. Prima donna Sabotini, a cobra in corseted silk, watches the baritone’s gaze slide toward the ingénue and hisses a silent overture of reprisal. The curtain lifts; velvet folds crash like waves; act-one triumph turns to panic when Paurel’s throat seizes in a hemorrhage of sound, the wound of a Titan felled by his own chord. Ethel dashes backstage, her gown a comet tail through corridors of greasepaint and dread. Carlo, prodded by Sabotini’s venomous whispers, bursts in, accusations ricocheting off prop swords and cracked mirrors. Pride detonates: Ethal clasps Paurel’s hand and publicly claims betrothal, a vow half defiance, half spell. The second act proceeds minus its star; Carlo, shoved into the proscenium’s furnace, sings like a man whose soul has been handed a last-minute libretto and seizes the mantle of fame overnight. Physicians pronounce Paurel silenced forever; the stage lion becomes a recluse pacing a cage of candlelit rooms where memorabilia haunts him like faded arias. Out of the past glides Bianca—once the world’s soprano, now keeper of embers—revealing that Carlo is the fruit of her long-ago liaison with Paurel, begging the maestro to cede the girl so their son can ascend unshadowed. In a nocturnal reckoning scored by memories of ovations, Paurel shatters the mirror of his own myth, relinquishes the fiancée, and slips into obscurity, leaving Carlo and Ethel to discover whether love rooted in renunciation can still sustain a duet.
Synopsis
Ethel Warren returns from studying in Europe to make her debut in New York with the opera company in which Jean Paurel, world-famous baritone, is the star. Carlo Sonino, also a member of the company, falls in love with Ethel and warns her against becoming infatuated with the amorous singer. Paurel becomes enchanted with Ethel, arousing the jealousy of the company's prima donna, Sabotini. When, after the first act, Ethel hears that Paurel has suffered an attack of the throat, she rushes backstage. Carlo, urged by Sabotini, follows and makes a scene, whereupon Ethel indignantly announces her engagement to Paurel. Paurel is unable to perform in the second act, and Carlo, taking his place, is vaulted to stardom. After Paurel is diagnosed as never being able to sing again, Bianca, a retired singer and Paurel's first love, reveals that Carlo is their son and pleads with the singer to give up Ethel for the boy's sake. After much soul-searching, Paurel refutes his selfish ways and agrees, thus freeing Ethel from her pledge to marry him.
Review Excerpt
"The 1920 screen seldom sang this loudly. In The Great Lover, the opera becomes both cathedral and coliseum, a place where high C’s collide with low desires and every aria is a potential swan song. Director Frank Lloyd—already honing the cosmopolitan sophistication that would later win him an Oscar—treats the Metropolitan as an organism: fly-loft pulleys resemble ribs, the gasping tenor a fibrillating heart. We enter this anatomy not through exposition but through Ethel Warren’s gloved hand brush..."
