Barry Manilow has been told he doesn’t look quite right for almost fifty years, which is an odd thing to endure for fifty years. Before the cancer, before the facelift, before any of it, the criticism began. He told The Guardian that he had experienced fifteen years of cheap laughter on television when his name was mentioned, and that occasionally he would read the reviews and cover his head. It’s difficult to ignore how long that kind of thing can persist, even after someone achieves great success by any reasonable standard.
Therefore, there was something almost anticlimactic about Manilow‘s final direct response to the surgery rumors in an interview that was published by the Los Angeles Times in late May. No scandal, no dramatic revelation. This is essentially what an 82-year-old man is saying: he had one facelift when he was living in Los Angeles, and since then, he has only had the occasional minor touch-up. He said, “I see something falling, sure, I’ll do that,” which is about the most straightforward admission a public figure can make without coming across as defensive.
This simplicity is important because the tabloid version of his story has become increasingly complex over time. Between 1995 and 2006, outlets reported on three different facelifts, Botox, steroid use, and a long list of fan-fiction-like theories about surgical glue and jawlines. “I don’t get Botox or anything,” Manilow said, categorically rejecting the Botox claim. He didn’t bother to address the majority of the other claims, which seems like its own kind of response. It seems like he’s just sick of relitigating it.
As you watch this unfold, the timing is striking. This wasn’t a sudden, self-serving confession. It happened months after Manilow revealed he had been diagnosed with stage 1 lung cancer, which was nearly unintentionally discovered when his doctor ordered an MRI for unrelated hip pain. One of the two lobes of his lung was removed by surgeons. He weighed less than 130 pounds. He had to postpone a series of arena performances and spent a week in the hospital. In light of this, discussing facelifts almost seems like a luxury issue. Manilow himself appeared to recognize this, telling PEOPLE that the diagnosis forced him to consider his entire life rather than just his face.
He also discusses vanity in a way that seems almost archaic—unembarrassed, matter-of-fact, and devoid of euphemisms like “self-care” or “wellness.” He said, “I’m as vain as anybody else,” and stopped talking. Manilow’s version reads almost refreshingly straightforward, despite being obviously incomplete; “a little here, a little there” leaves plenty of room for interpretation when compared to the parade of carefully worded non-denials that other celebrities tend to offer.
It remains to be seen if fans will accept the more straightforward narrative. Celebrity surgery conspiracy theories seldom go away simply because the subject provides a straightforward response; someone will always insist that the true story is concealed beneath the surface. However, Manilow doesn’t seem particularly concerned about winning that debate, having just recovered from a cancer scare and reportedly back on a treadmill three times a day in preparation for a comeback to the stage. His album will be released in June, and he has a new song on the charts. For now, it appears that the face is the least of his worries.