The singer who, but for an extraordinary turn of fate, would indubitably have been mentioned in the same breath as the famous duo was perhaps the most naturally gifted Australian singer ever to have taken on the world. The renowned British critic Neville Cardus was firmly of that opinion. For him, Marjorie Lawrence ‘sang the “Liebestod”’ from Tristan and Isolde with a vocal art and glorious personal inwardness matched in my experience by no other singer. Marjorie Lawrence is the greatest artist of song and opera produced so far from Australia; in saying so much I do not underrate Sutherland (and) Melba’ (both of whom he heard). ‘I am referring to an experiencing artist, a singer of intense yet controlled power of identifying mind and larynx with the creative process.’

This operatic paragon, born in the Victorian village of Dean’s Marsh in 1907, was raised on a dairy farm near Winchelsea. As a child, she sang solos in church; singing always seems to have been an obsession. Ignoring her father’s objections when she reached the age of eighteen and was no longer under his guardianship, she and her brother ran off to Melbourne where she studied singing with Ivor Boustead, who had taught the very successful baritone John Brownlee. Even at this very early stage of vocal development, Lawrence’s qualities must have been evident. Brownlee vouched for her publicly and promised that if she came to Paris he would introduce her to the distinguished teacher Cécile Gilly.

Having reconciled with her father, Lawrence entered the 1928 Sun Aria competition on the understanding that if she won her father would support her passage to Paris and send her an allowance. On winning not only the main prize but all the others for which she entered, she promptly left for France. There Brownlee kept his promise. After an intensive period of study with Mme Gilly, Lawrence made her début with great success as Elisabeth in Tannhäuser at the Monte Carlo Opera. As she pointed out in her biography, Interrupted Melody (1949), she only ever sang leading roles.

An equally triumphant 1933 début at the Paris Opera (Ortrud in Lohengrin) followed, and two years later she conquered the Metropolitan Opera in New York (Brünnhilde in Die Walküre). At the age of twenty-eight, Marjorie Lawrence had made it to the pinnacle of her profession.

Blessed with a healthy body and an equally healthy, well-supported voice, Lawrence could have expected to remain at the top for at least another twenty years, but this was not to be. In 1941, Lawrence went to Mexico City with her new husband, Tom King, to appear in the inaugural season of the Mexico City Opera. There she collapsed into almost complete paralysis, diagnosed as polio myelitis.

With the unconditional support of her osteopath husband and with extraordinary determination and resilience, Lawrence managed to return to an albeit limited career. During the war she tirelessly toured, singing for American, Australian, and British troops. She performed for the Roosevelts at the White House and for the royal family at Buckingham Palace. Her autobiography, co-authored with Charles Buttrose, became a bestseller and was turned into a successful Hollywood weepy (with Eleanor Parker as Lawrence). Later, she became a popular teacher at Southern Illinois University.

Filmmaker Wayne Groom discovered Lawrence through Richard Davis’s excellent biography Wotan’s Daughter (which I reviewed for ABR in June 2013). Groom and his partner, Carolyn Bilsborow, have put together a compelling, if rather ironically titled given the circumstances, tribute to the diva: Marjorie Lawrence: The World at Her Feet (which had its world premiére in Winchelsea on 21 August 2021). In something of a coup, they managed to persuade Kiri Te Kanawa to narrate, which she does with her customary aplomb.

For a singer with such a major if brief career, Lawrence made remarkably few commercial recordings, but in his biography Davis compiled an exhaustive list of recorded live performances. Groom gives us enough of a taste of her gleaming sound to understand what the fuss was about.

Much of the film consists of talking heads, but on the whole they are heads that have interesting things to say. No less a connoisseur of voices than Richard Bonynge is on hand to affirm the quality of the Lawrence sound. Ita Buttrose recalls childhood memories of her father juggling his other commitments while collaborating with Lawrence on Interrupted Melody. Brian Castles-Onion has a performer’s perspective on what the highs and lows of Lawrence’s career must have been like. Kevin Bennett remembers Lawrence’s triumphant return to Winchelsea during her first tour of Australia. Unsurprisingly, Davis gets the most time and uses it well.

But it is when we get to hear and see Lawrence that the film really comes alive. The newsreel clips of Lawrence roaming Winchelsea and being greeted by an adoring crowd give us some inkling of her charisma and vitality. Most moving of all are the scenes from the US version of This Is Your Life. As Lawrence describes her first public performance after the polio disaster, singing in King’s family church in Miami, the camera moves to a close-up. The public smile falters momentarily and we get a glimpse of what must have been her vulnerability at that time. Then the smile returns and we are once again in the presence of the public, indomitable diva.

Wayne Groom and Carolyn Bilsboro’s film is a celebration of Lawrence’s artistry. More importantly perhaps, it is a tribute to her extraordinary courage and tenacity.

Marjorie Lawrence: The world at her feet (Sharmill Films) will be on general release in cinemas later this year.