SHE IS mooted by some as the last true diva. The woman with the instantly recognisable nose, infamous voice and deeply rooted paranoia. The woman who threw a public hissy fit when president Bill Clinton didn't come to her wedding.
The woman who will only be photographed from the left side. Prima donna extraordinaire, Barbra Streisand, is coming to Ireland. And charging handsomely for the honour.
In Italy, there was uproar.
The ticket prices for Streisand's scheduled concert there ranged from $200 to $1,200. Consumer groups protested that this was "absurd and shameful" and called on authorities to deny the singer the use of the stadium in Rome.
Before they got a chance, Streisand's tour promoters rushed in and cancelled the concert, citing "unexpected production delays" as an explanation.
But while apologising profusely to the Italians, the Streisand camp nonetheless defended the exorbitant ticket prices for the European tour (her concert in Castletown House, Celbridge, could set you back more than 800 if you were so minded) by insisting that seeing Streisand perform "is a pretty momentous occasion that ranks up there with Sinatra or Elvis". Debatable, certainly. But when it comes to raking in the crowds, the Jewish woman from Brooklyn has form.
It wasn't an easy start for young Barbra.
Hers is the quintessential rags-toriches American dream.
Born in New York in 1942 to working-class Jewish parents, Streisand's father died when she was 15 months old. After that, she describes a childhood mostly devoid of love . . . a situation that was compounded with the arrival of a wicked stepfather, who teased her unmercifully about her distinctive nose.
Despite her mother's insistence that she had no talent, Barbra decided early on she was going to be a star and pursued this dream with characteristic determination. The first stop was dropping the second 'a' in her name. At 18, she won a talent competition, then she started singing in bars, and at 19, she auditioned for a part in the Broadway musical I Can Get it for You Wholesale.
"She just sang, " says the director of that musical, Arthur Laurents. "And I kept her singing for the sheer pleasure of hearing her." Laurents gave Streisand a part that was meant for a 50-year old, and she threw herself into the role.
It just got better from there. One Broadway part led to another, until Streisand starred as Fanny Brice in Funny Girl, a pivotal role that saw her get her film break when the show was made into a movie.
Record deals followed, with young Streisand already hinting at her diva nature by insisting she have complete creative control over the recording. Her confidence in her own ability was not misplaced however, and both The Barbra Streisand Album and My Name Is Barbra became huge hits.
But conquering the music world wasn't enough for the ambitious New Yorker. She went on to become a film director, producer, screenwriter, television performer and political salonkeeper. Her forays into the movie business were less successful than her domination in the music industry, with flops such as The Mirror Has Two Faces being roundly rejected by the critics.
Still, Streisand is one of a handful of people to have won an Emmy, a Grammy, a Tony and an Oscar. By the summer of last year, she had notched up 50 gold albums, 30 platinum albums, 13 multiplatinum albums and had combined sales of more than 70 million. Her fan base was huge, and her fans were devoted to her.
But not everyone enjoyed the Barbra Streisand experience. Walter Matthau, her co-star on Hello Dolly! , said that she hadn't "got the talent of a butterfly's fart", while lyricist Paul Williams said that working with her was "like having a picnic at the end of an airport runway". And then there was the famous White House moment when Richard Nixon was caught on tape saying what he really thought of the singer. "That Barbra Streisand is so obnoxious, " he said.
"Who can stand her? And that nose . . . a real Jimmy Durante schnoz."
Even Streisand's ex-husband, Elliot Gould, is less than complimentary.
"Barbra Streisand is a Marie Antoinette, because she's unaware of the facts of common existence, " he said in an interview in 1999. "It's the danger of believing you're larger than life. Nobody is bigger than life."
Streisand didn't do much to dispel the Marie Antoinette associations when she explained in an interview in 2002 how she cared for her staff. "I am a nice person, " she said. "I care about my driver having lunch, you know."
Her reputation as a diva was also cemented last year when details of her backstage requirements were leaked to the media. The contract rider included five suites of sitting-room furniture (fabric covered . . . "no vinyl please"), 10 floor lamps "Torchiere style", 35 folding banquet tables and 150 folding chairs. She also had detailed instructions about the number and type of locks on the doors and a request for 120 bath-sized towels "immediately upon arrival" at the venue.
Streisand fans maintain that it is the singer's ardent perfectionism and dedication to her art that can result in her imperious demands and irrational behaviour. She likes things to go to plan. Her plan. In 1967, she traumatised herself by forgetting her lyrics on stage due to an untimely bout of stage fright. "I couldn't come out of it, " she said later. "It was shocking to me to forget the words. So I didn't have any sense of humor about it.
I was quite shocked."
Such was her aversion to the experience, she refused to give any more largescale paid concerts until 1994 when she made a triumphant return to New York's Madison Square Garden. Fans rejoiced, but Streisand herself remained on edge.
Along with the constant fear of stage fright, she was also convinced that an assassination attempt might be made on her life because of her campaigning stance and pro-Israel views. One biography claimed that her fear was so acute that she ducked and weaved around the stage during live performances to dodge a bullet from any shooters in the audience.
This fear of being killed by random onlookers may explain the singer's apparent dislike of her enormous fame. "I enjoy privacy and small things, like staying at home, " she said. "I really don't like the fanfare of being a star. It's not all it's cracked up to be."
C.V.
Born: 24 April, 1942, in Brooklyn, New York
In the news: She's due to perform in Ireland for the first time ever this summer, and her Italian concert has been cancelled following an outcry in the country over her exorbitant ticket prices
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