When he died in 2007, Luciano Pavarotti left an estate worth in excess, it is said, of $474 million. It reflects the global phenomenon that he had become, far more than being the most celebrated tenor since Caruso. Pavarotti was one of the most famous men on the planet. Even those who knew nothing and cared less about opera recognised – and warmed to – the bloke who sang that song for the World Cup.

This film portrait, while providing a routine canter though his career (it’s especially good on his early years), is less concerned with the music than the offstage life. The film crew has been to all the relevant locations and had access to various Pavarotti properties. But, while there is fascinating footage of an early Rodolfo in Modena (with his childhood friend Mirella Freni), there are no scenes from anything at Covent Garden or the Met. A clip from the first Three Tenors concert is as close as we get to the operatic stage. There is no Domingo to pay tribute but there is Carreras and Pavarotti’s erstwhile manager of 35 years, Herbert Breslin. Most notably, there is Pavarotti’s long-suffering first wife Adua, whose (less than adulatory) contributions to the film were made on condition that there would be none from her successor. Most irritatingly – what is it, the silly shades or the faux philosopher? – there is Pavarotti’s rock-star friend Bono on hand to dispense words of wisdom.

Yet the whole thing, well sourced, briskly edited and judiciously paced, is an engaging, easy-listening kind of watch, neither hagiography nor hatchet job. Future Pavarotti documentaries will doubtless ask more penetrating questions, and those hoping for a serious look at his operatic career – the range, the roles, the high and lows – will be disappointed, but as a portrait of a man who loved food and women just as much as he did music, it’s an accomplished piece of work.