TEMPERAMENT OF A DIVO ESCAPES ITALIAN TENOR

In the slightly skewed world of opera, the singer’s inflated ego is usually considered as requisite as vocal coaching and greasepaint. Who could imagine a genuine diva without a temper, or a divo--the male counterpart--without bravado?

Italian tenor Giuseppe Giacomini is not the darling of the late-night talk shows, has not made a single Hollywood movie or given concerts on the sports palace circuit. He is in town to sing the title role in Verdi’s “Otello”--first Otello of his career--with the San Diego Opera. Should his performance of Otello, which many consider the most difficult tenor role in opera, catapult him into that rarefied echelon of the tenor superstar, the mild-mannered Giacomini may need coaching in the proper life style and attitude of the true divo.

Gracious, soft-spoken and introspective, the 45-year-old singer has been characterized as professorial in his demeanor. Most pedagogues, however, would not be as openly frank about the insecurities and pitfalls of their profession.

“Today you have this wonderful tool, which is the voice,” Giacomini said, “and then perhaps tomorrow you may not have it.” This was no mere speculation, for in 1980 he did lose his voice for eight months, a malady which has not recurred.

No tenor undertakes “Otello” lightly, and Giacomini anguished over whether San Diego’s offer to sing the role came at the right time. Midway through rehearsals last week, the cautious tenor affirmed the wisdom of accepting the challenge now.

“I am not a person for waiting,” he explained, relaxed in his hotel suite overlooking Balboa Park. “In terms of vocal maturity, this is the right time for me to do ‘Otello.’ You need a voice that is fresh in its color, but one that is strong enough to keep up through all four acts of the opera.”

When performing in America--he made his New York Metropolitan Opera debut some 10 years ago--he travels with his wife, Massimiliana. From his conversation, it would be easy to deduce that he regards singing as a difficult occupation which he endures only because of his responsibilities as paterfamilias. “For me, family comes first. It just happens that my work is singing.”

As a special treat, their 18-year-old daughter, Giovanna, will fly to San Diego for the opening of the opera Saturday night at the Civic Theatre. Both parents were adamant, however, that neither Giovanna nor her brother Giacomo, 13, should become singers.

While Massimiliana had remained demurely silent through the entire interview, when this subject was broached she interrupted without the slightest hesitation.

“It is a life of great sacrifices which wear on the nervous system,” she said. “Every day is like a tryout: Today you have a voice, tomorrow you might not have it. And it’s very hard to face this every night for 20 years of a career.”

Her husband continued her train of thought. “I think perhaps that a person who decides to be an artist should not have a family, because it takes him too much away from his family.

“For instance, when you are away for even a few months, when you come back, the children have changed a little bit. And it takes a few days to get back to the family life.” At this point, Massimiliana nodded in agreement.

Realizing that he may have overstated his case, Giacomini added, “Of course, since a (married) person is more complete, he is able to interpet better the roles he must play in the theater.”

The Giacomini family home is near Padua, Italy, in the northeastern province of Veneto. Growing up in the rural town of Veggiano, also outside of Padua, Giacomini’s only musical experience was singing in church. While riding in a bus with school mates to attend a performance of the outdoor opera in Verona, a citizen noticed his voice singing above the others as the students passed the time on the long bus ride.

With the encouragement, then, of one of the town’s city fathers, young Giuseppe entered the conservatory in Padua. At 26 he made his debut as Pinkerton in “Madama Butterfly” at Vercelli.

He has limited his performance to the Italian Romantic repertory, emphasizing the Verdi roles. He was uncharacteristically critical of singers attempting to perform every role in their range--”in the past, everyone had his own repertory”--but he sees some slight diversification in his future.

“In Cremona and Trieste, I have already sung ‘Lohengrin,’ in Italian translation of course. That went very well,” he added with evident satisfaction.

If his “Otello” goes well, he allowed that the title role in Saint-Saens’ “Samson et Dalila” would be his next challenge.