One thing you need to know about Riccardo Muti the man (as opposed to Muti the conductor) is that he can turn on & off his charm switch with amazing ease. You don't want to be on the receiving side of one of his trademark scowls or icy stares; but when the man chooses to be warm and funny (for example, at a post-performance dinner when the performance went well or very well), he's just that -- warm and funny and amazingly self-effacing.
Earlier tonight, showing up at the Che Tempo Che Fa talk show on Italian TV, the country's leading TV talk show, to promote his autobiography, Muti chose to be, well, very, very funny.
His opening gambit -- prodded by host Fabio Fazio -- was to tackle the topic of his famous, preternaturally black hair (as of late, grey at the temples). Not the result of a dye job but of good DNA: "My father died at 85 with a full head of jet black hair". But then he immediately told a hilarious story of his arrival in Milan as a young student on 11/2/1962 (btw, November 2 in Italy is the Day of the Dead). He mentioned how the Milanese cold weather and fog left the Southern boy horrified ("a scene out of a Totò movie").
He was wearing a heavy overcoat, a long scarf and a wide-brimmed fedora hat: then Muti explained that he went straight from the train station to the Conservatorio where he ran into a Neapolitan friend of his who made fun of Muti's fedora. And Muti quoted verbatim his friend's taunt in Neapolitan dialect: "You look like a c*ck in a hat".
Muti never wore a hat again in his life (the little story brought the live studio audience down; once again when he apologized for mentioning "a body part").
Muti also explained how he feels guilty for missing his sons' births -- he was conducting and he didn't feel right betraying his commitment with his orchestras (his two sons, now grownups, were in the audience), therefore "to this day I wonder -- did I make a mistake?"
Muti also mentioned how Verdi is the composer closest to his heart, the one whose approval, in a hypothetical afterlife, would mean the most to him. "But then -- Muti smiled, looking up -- Verdi is up there, and I'll end up elsewhere... so unfortunately I'll never meet him".