Out of Tune Read online

  And there was another comparison to Horowitz— but it was a very different one from the positive comparison David had received in Britain three decades earlier. “Helfgott crashes out parallel octaves with an arm speed to equal that of Horowitz—albeit with an occasionally metallic coarseness more reminiscent of Little Richard,” wrote one paper.

  David’s tour promoters hit back hard against the critics’ savagery. They said David’s detractors were “snobs who suffer from pianist envy” and that they “resented David’s popularity and ability to cross over to a new audience.” “I’m sure Richard Dyer [of the Boston Globe], the acerbic critic who condemned David’s performance, has enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame. David’s fame will last a lifetime,” said one of David’s tour managers. As the New York Times put it, “Helfgott spokespeople heaped scorn on the critics, who were, after all, always intent on spoiling a good thing.”

  Just in case we needed reminding about the link between the film and the concert tour, Scott Hicks weighed in, telling reporters: “I think there are some critics who perhaps act as sort of self-appointed guardians of an elite culture.” Geoffrey Rush, obviously feeling the necessity to defend the film’s version of the “true David,” told one newspaper the critics were “full of bunk.”

  Of course, the entire tour was a spin-off of Shine and some critics spelled this out. Elizabeth Mehren in the Los Angeles Times began her article: “He raced onto the stage with no introduction, because after the movie Shine, David Helfgott needed none.” Writing in the London Daily Telegraph under the title “Taking the Shine Off,” Geoffrey Norris said: “The audience affection was overwhelming, the ovations tumultuous. But one central question remained unanswered after this deeply flawed recital by the Australian pianist: who is deluding whom? Brutal though it may be to say so, Helfgott would never be able to fill the Festival Hall, or even be invited to do so, on the strength of his musical abilities alone—if it were not for Shine.”

  Norris continued: “It is delusion on everybody’s part—Helfgott’s, his promoters’, the audience’s—to imagine that his performance did any service either to him or to the music on his program … When, as here, Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata is not so much fractured as crumbled into rubble, you have to admire Helfgott for merely getting through it rather than for asserting any positive interpretative personality.” He lamented that “on a concert circuit bristling with fine pianists, any number of young artists with genuine gifts of technical acumen and interpretative insight would have given their eye teeth to receive this sort of exposure.”

  A few like-minded members of the public praised the critics. “Bravo to the music critics who have the courage to expose the Shine recital tour for the cynical exploitation that it is. The critics are doing their job, harsh as they may be,” said one letter to the Los Angeles Times. But for every “anti-David” letter there were several “pro-David” ones, as debate raged in newspapers the world over. “Sir, What a shame the critics slated the wonderful concerts by pianist David Helfgott,” wrote Mrs. Ann V. Schlachter to the London Times. “They may not be conventional presentations of the composers’ work, but they certainly bring it to the attention of people who would not normally be interested in classical music.”

  David, who was now being described as “the best-known pianist in the world,” was achieving pop star-like status. And he obliged by behaving like one. Newspaper reports said that “During the standing ovations that inevitably greet his performances, Helfgott often leaves the stage, wandering down to the audience to kiss and hug members of the front row.” David was even provided with an assistant on the tour whose sole job was to answer his fan mail.

  The way in which the tour pitted critics against audiences around the world became the subject of news reports and analysis. Television crews from Britain, Germany, Luxembourg, and other countries buzzed around outside David’s New York recitals interviewing concertgoers on the way in. “The Helfgott phenomenon” elicited a piece in the New York Times by James R. Oestreich on “the Worrisome state of classical music in the United States.” He wrote: “Rejoice, the music world is told. Think of all the potential new listeners who are being reached by the film, the concerts, the recordings. It is indeed possible that a Helfgott experience will provide a first, intriguing exposure to classical music for some listeners. As those of us who came to music late can attest, you have to start somewhere. But it would be hopelessly unrealistic to expect great throngs of new listeners to arise from any [of Helfgott’s] sensations.”

  The audience adulation was in part due to the fact that people thought that David, after his mental breakdown and alleged abuse at the hands of my father, was making a comeback. This belief was fed by media reporting of the tour, which usually mentioned Shine. For example, the BBC chose, unwittingly, to reproduce totally fictional scenes from the film as part of its reports:

  BERYL: You’re David Helfgott.

  DAVID: That’s right, Beryl, that’s right, that’s right, that’s right.

  BERYL: But I used to watch you win all those competitions … I’m quite a fan. Do you still play?

  DAVID: Oh no, I mustn’t, I mustn’t.

  BERYL: You mustn’t?

  DAVID: I mustn’t… I mustn’t…

  Certainly the tour was riding on the back of Shine as if it were a true story. The official Internet site promoting the tour told us, “Shine dramatically depicts the real-life story of Australian genius pianist David Helfgott.”

  So, cashing in on the film we had not only the concert tour—with its six managers—but also a couple of classical albums and a brace of books, as well as mugs and T-shirts emblazoned with Shine. Gillian’s book was sold alongside programs for David’s concerts, which cost a hefty $15. Promoters dubbed the tour “The Miracle of Love,” leaving no one in any doubt whose love they were talking about. Shine had turned David into a publicist’s dream, and it seemed the exploitative management team was determined to milk every last drop.

  David Helfgott Plays Rachmaninov became one of the biggest-selling classical recordings ever. It entered the No. 1 spot on the U.S. Billboard classical chart and remained there for many weeks; it also entered the pop chart at one stage. By the time David gave his New York recital in March 1997, he had already sold 200,000 copies in the United States alone. In Australia, it was top of the charts for six months. He was also at No. 1 on the classical charts in many other countries. “Our stocks were obliterated once the film got Oscar nominations,” said a spokesperson for Tower Records in London.

  Meanwhile, the film’s soundtrack, which included some of David’s performances, sold 500,000 copies in the United States alone.

  David’s second CD, Brilliantissimo, a disk of his solo performances, went straight in at No. 1 on the British classical charts when it was released in May 1997. Even a rereleased sheet music version of Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto which, in the spirit of Shine, was simply called “Rach 3,” sold 5,000 copies in Britain within its first month of sale (March 1997), breaking all records for sheet music sales.

  David was not only receiving numerous recording contracts, but exciting offers to play at special events were flooding in. The German Recording Industry invited David to attend the Echo Klassik Awards in September 1997 at the Prince Regent Theatre in Munich. In October, he played at the prestigious annual “Piano en Valois” festival in Bordeaux, France. He also had the privilege of playing on Rachmaninoff’s original Steinway, at the Rachmaninoff Villa, the composer’s house on the shores of Lake Lucerne in Switzerland.

  Throughout the sixty-five-concert world tour, Gillian was keeping a tight hold on the reins. As the London Daily Telegraph put it in a news report of May 5, 1997: “At a press conference the pianist played ten minutes of Liszt and was then helped from the stage shaking his head wildly and unwilling or unable to give interviews. Instead, his wife Gillian was very angry on his behalf at the music critics, claiming that they were not taking his performances seriously … She has been cri
ticized for trying to cash in on her husband’s new fame by agreeing to a grueling world tour.” The tour’s web site told us that at the various concert locations “Gillian Helfgott was busy signing her book, Love You to Bits and Pieces, which has hit the best-seller list in several countries.”

  But in my eyes, this tour was a case of “Exploit You to Bits and Pieces”; and when newspapers are using phrases like “The David Helfgott Show,” I feel I have to respond. Firstly, my brother is not a freak. He is suffering from a mental illness from which he has not recovered; indeed, I am gravely concerned that he is being deliberately deprived of the correct doses of drugs that would help to make him more “normal,” in order to maintain his “freak appeal.” (According to David’s psychiatrist—a friend of Gillian’s—David’s medication is carefully balanced so as on the one hand not to diminish his creative powers and on the other hand, not to turn him into a complete “zombie.”)

  Secondly, although I was shocked by the unrestrained viciousness of some of the reviews (in Australia one critic said that the country was known for its unusual creatures—kangaroos, koalas, and so on—and that David fitted into this category), it is certainly true that David’s playing is not nearly as good as it used to be, which makes me feel very sad. The truth is that while Shine—the fictional story—won praise, David—the real person—is being shredded by the critics precisely because this is today’s reality. My brother is being paraded as a modern-day “Elephant Man” by a well-oiled publicity machine that has steered everyone away from the truth. To me it is offensive that when television networks film David, they use close-up shots of him mumbling away to himself. I feel this is a gross violation of his privacy and demonstrates a lack of respect for other human beings.

  While in some ways I am happy that audiences flock to hear David play and that he receives such enthusiastic acclaim, in other ways, it causes me great distress. I am concerned about the resulting exploitation of his name. On the surface David is obviously enjoying himself as he basks in audience adulation, while running around hugging and kissing people. But I doubt that my mentally ill brother is truly aware of what is going on. As newspapers informed us, this was “not your average classical audience.” People were there as much to participate in David’s “true story” as for the quality of his performance. Perhaps the critic in New Zealand who wrote that he had the uneasy feeling that he wasn’t so much listening to a piano recital as eavesdropping on someone’s therapy session was painfully right. “Helfgott was truly once a great pianist. It’s so sad to see him exploited this way,” said the London Sunday Times.

  I wonder whether someone as psychologically vulnerable as David should ever have been put in a position where he might be exposed to such criticism in the first place? I am concerned for David’s well-being. To be suddenly paraded in the world’s foremost musical venues and to find oneself undertaking an arduous ten-month tour is a risky business for someone with his precarious health. Even the fittest of pianists would find such a workload extremely punishing. A few of the critics worried about this, too. For example, Stephen Pettitt of the (London) Financial Times called for a stop to “this grotesque circus before any more damage is done to Helfgott.”

  For David, a serious musician who has devoted almost his entire life to the piano, to read such terrible and cruel reviews both of his performance and his personality must be heart-rending. Indeed, the indignity of being described in such destructive terms causes pain to myself and the whole Helfgott family. The prestigious English magazine The Gramophone declined to review David’s recording of Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto because it was so “appalling.” That David’s professional reputation is now in tatters makes me utterly despondent.

  The young David was a brilliant musician. It is no accident that Cyril Smith, his professor at the Royal College, said in a letter that “his talent amounts to genius.” Before he met Gillian, David would never “dangle his arms” or “puff like a steam train.” He never used to “ramble senselessly” or have “sloppy and undependable fingerwork.” His playing would never have been described as “an exaggerated clatter” or “a structureless rubble of notes.” On the contrary, he performed consistently for decades, and always received good reviews. It is only because of Gillian’s interviews with the press—in which she repeats stories about locked pianos, institutionalization, and David’s first wife allegedly selling his piano—that the idea has been created that David didn’t perform for years until he met her, his savior. Even when he was already under medication, Claire’s loving care helped ensure David’s standard of playing was far higher than it is now. In July 1973, for example, he received glowing reviews for his “dazzling” performance of Shostakovich with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra.

  In the 1980s, David was still receiving reviews filled with superlatives. “Excellent,” “breathtaking,” “astonishing skill,” said a 1987 Music Maker review. “His talent is unbelievable,” wrote The Australian in 1987. But as the years went by and the myths of Shine took hold, the situation deteriorated. If the film had been honest about David’s illness, I don’t believe the critics would have savaged him so mercilessly. Horowitz and Ogden both suffered mental problems and, to the best of my knowledge, they were never called “freaks.” The music critics, like the film critics, have been misled.

  Some critics were sharp enough to realize this. As the New York Times wrote: “An ideal Hollywood ending it was not… The concert tour disproved Shine. David Helfgott did not prove to be the resurrected pianistic genius, however eccentric, portrayed in the movie and in the surrounding promotional apparatus.” Said another critic: “The real David Helfgott was a sad and disturbing figure, far different from the one portrayed on screen.”

  One of the very few critics who saw exactly what was going on and had the courage to say so, was Terry Teachout, the music critic for the New York Daily News. In his review he said: “Two centuries ago, nice people went to asylums on Sunday and gawked at the inmates. But times have changed. Today, we let the inmates out of the asylums and encourage them to live ‘normal’ lives. Some preach strange religions on street corners; others give concerts at Avery Fisher, and nice people pay $50 a head to watch them, and call it progress.”

  Mr. Teachout expanded on this theme in a much longer piece he wrote for the magazine Commentary, in which he made the crucial connection among Shine, Gillian, and David’s concert tour. He wrote that: “Central to the message of Shine [is that] Helfgott, we are to understand, suffers not from a chronic disease of the brain, treatable by drugs, but from a character disorder, caused by his father’s abuse and curable through love. Revealingly, it is after he sleeps with his wife for the first time that he is able at long last to play a concert…. [In her book] Gillian Helfgott acknowledges implicitly that he is not competent in the legal sense of the word … Yet she firmly insists that Helfgott’s inability to function as a ‘regular member of society’ is not an affliction but a choice—though one, it emerges, which she appears to have made on his behalf… No one even slightly familiar with the symptoms of schizophrenia could have failed to see that Geoffrey Rush’s brilliant performance in Shine was—to put it bluntly—a lie. The real David Helfgott, it turned out, still wore the mask of insanity … A handful of people in Avery Fisher Hall realized what was happening: a mentally incompetent man was being paraded before a paying audience for the financial gain of his managers.”

  Teachout continues: “Helfgott is mentally ill, and his physical presence on the stage of a great concert hall was thus utterly inappropriate…. We should be haunted by the image of that pitiful man at the piano, whose wife has deliberately chosen to deprive him of the chance to live as others do…. Even now, Gillian Helfgott can still blandly write in her memoir, ‘I will fight for David’s right to stay extraordinary, and do whatever is necessary to protect him from any pressures to conform.’ The more one ponders these self-righteous words, the clearer it becomes that to speak of the marketing of David Helfgott
as an act of exploitation is to use too weak a word. It is, rather, a sin.”

  20

  DAVID AND GILLIAN

  In the wake of the media blitz surrounding Shine and David’s concert tour, the world now associates my brother with strange physical behavior and his “trademark babble.” On television, David’s newly developed habits are there for all to see, as he fidgets and chatters nervously, keeping his eyes half shut, or eagerly clutches and gropes at people all around him. It is now clear that David has not been “nurtured to recovery,” as one might expect from the publicity surrounding Shine. On the contrary, his speech has deteriorated to that of a child. David, who turned fifty in 1997, repeats words frenetically—“It’s great. It’s awesome. It’s great. It’s awesome”—and chuckles oddly at words that only he finds amusing, such as “fun pun, what a game.”

  One of the habits David has adopted is to pepper his sentences in a rather pretentious way with French words. He’ll describe something as “joyeux” rather than “joyous.” He’ll talk about placing his “couteau” (knife) on his “assiette” (plate). And he’ll say “parce que” instead of “because” in the middle of an otherwise English sentence. He also likes to use words from Polish, Russian, Italian, and Yiddish, or to make up words altogether, such as “dentifies” (teeth), “greedos” (greedy), “matinata” (morning), “lazos” (lazy), and “wishywashy” (dirty laundry). David even jokes around about his beloved composers. He’ll casually refer to “Tchaik” (Tchaikovsky); the “Rach 3” is now “a whopper”; of Ravel, he’ll say, laughing to himself like a little boy: “Poor old Maurice, he might unravel.” As Geoffrey Rush told the London Sunday Times: “Scott Hicks gave me hours of tapes of interviews with David, and I used them as a kind of Berlitz ‘How to Speak Fluent David Helfgott.’”