Lebanese soprano Rima Tawil joins the Spanish tenor in a magical evening

It seems impossible to comprehend how such a small man can summon up such an enormous voice.

When Jose Carreras sauntered past the massive Budapest Symphony Orchestra on Wednesday night and bowed slightly to the audience, it was clear that the 55-year-old Spanish tenor hadn't lost a bit of his famous Latin charm. From the moment the cameras zeroed in on him, his eyes began to display a certain magnetic twinkling.

We could expect nothing less of Carreras, the man who is widely accepted as the quintessential sex symbol of the opera world. But the state of his voice was less certain.

In the last 15 years, since Carreras narrowly overcame a bout with cancer, even diehard fans of the world famous tenor have had to admit that his performances have thinned a bit. The last two years in particular have seen some critics complain of shorter concerts, uninspired programs and a lack of musical range.

Yet no one who saw Carreras' astounding performance with soprano Rima Tawil on Wednesday night could accuse him of having lost his luster. From the opening notes of Costa's La Luna Nova, Carreras unleashed a voice of such power and resonance that the entire orchestra, which spanned the length and breadth of the stage, seemed to pale behind him. It was that same pure, high voltage, feel-it-in-your-toes tenor sound that once led him to be labeled one of the greatest singers of the post-war era.

Two hours and six encores later, Carreras hadn't let up. It's not often that a world class act on the level of Carreras makes his way to Lebanon, and the capacity audience at the Beiteddine Festival no doubt expected a once in a lifetime performance. But no one, perhaps not even Carreras himself, could have envisioned a night on a par with what happened Wednesday evening beneath the moonlit sky of the Chouf.

Carreras appeared to have simply woken up that morning not just ready but desperate to sing. When he took his place on center stage, what ensued was something more than a musical performance of Strauss, Verdi, and the odd Italian or Spanish favorite. On Wednesday, Carreras seemed visibly delighted with himself. When the crowd reacted to his stellar rendition of Santa Lucia, he smiled in self-satisfaction. When he sang in praise of Granada, the Castilian sang out the heavy "th" sounds of his native tongue with unhinged pride.

Carreras seemed to have suddenly become an older version of his 6-year-old self, who famously sang to strangers on a boat, sang endlessly to his family, and when he drove them all crazy, locked himself up in the bathroom and just kept going.

Who knows what made the difference Wednesday night? Perhaps it was that Carreras happened to be performing with Tawil, a Lebanese soprano who local audiences seemed to adore simply by nature of the fact that she's a homegrown opera talent who can still manage to sing in German. Her mind-blowing vocal range didn't seem to hurt either.

Or perhaps Carreras, in a strange way, thought the region could use a bit of loving in a time such as this. When he was asked fresh off the airplane on Monday if he thought music could be a language of reconciliation for the Middle East, he said: "Well, I hope so."

He then added, with his typical touch of humanity: "I think we artists have a privilege to bring people a new language ­ a language of dialogue." Carreras' voice seemed to contain worlds, but it was an overall sense of emotional depth that truly carried the performance. Throughout the concert, he consistently raised his eyebrows slyly, embracing the audience with open arms, lifting himself on his toes to reach high notes. During a duet with Tawil of Verdi's Brindisi, he smiled almost shyly at his singing partner, and at the end he kissed her hand.

The music behind the man certainly helped. The orchestra, under the brilliant direction of David Gimenez, was so remarkable on its own that its few solo pieces increased the emotion of the night rather than diffusing the momentum.

And Tawil was good. It can be no easy feat to suddenly find oneself singing with one of the world's great voices, and though she was visibly nervous, Tawil managed to hold her own. Her downfall was that she lacked the charisma necessary to connect with the audience on a personal level. Yet her rendition of Catalani's La Wally was fabulous, and one of the high points of the night.

The low point was the number of uncultured cretins at the concert. Throngs of audience members left early, seemingly unaware that encores exist (Tawil sang an additional two songs, Carreras sang four). It is a rare concert moment when one half of the crowd cheers maniacally for more, while the other half simultaneously runs for their lives.

Though judging from the number of women in the audience, and the impact of Carreras' legendary charm, it's not entirely implausible that these throngs were simply pushing for a chance to get backstage.

Copyright © 2002 Daily Star .