Summary
In the 18th century, under the sobriquet Farinelli, Carlo Broschi became the world’s
most famous castrato. Accompanied by his older brother Riccardo, who writes his
music and helps to consummate his amorous entanglements, he is received by the courts
of Europe. Whilst staying in England, Farinelli is approached by the composer
Handel, who desperately needs a success to save his failing opera house. Insulted
by Handel’s arrogance, the castrato instead decides to work for a rival opera company.
Although he proves to be a great success, Farinelli starts to have second thoughts and
realises he world rather sing Handel’s opera than his brother’s lesser offerings…
Review
In a similar vein to Milos Forman’s 1984 film Amadeus, Farinelli:
il castrato introduces a modern cinema audience to the life of one of the musical
luminaries of the 18th century. In Amadeus, the subject was the composer
Mozart, here it is the castrato Carlo Broschi. (For those who might be wondering,
a castrato is a male singer whose testicles were removed prior to puberty to prevent his
larynx from developing, thereby preserving his angelic voice.) Like Amadeus
, this film is awash with historical inaccuracies and uses spectacle and gloss as
a substitute for serious drama and well-developed characterisation.
In spite of some noticeable technical deficiencies and soggy sentimentality, this is not
entirely an unappealing film. Although detail about Farinelli’s life is somewhat
lacking, the film manages to have enough of a plot (however implausible) to fill the gaps
between the magnificent recreations of the singer’s operatic performances, which
are the main reason for watching the film.
No one knows for certain what a castrato sounds like these days, but the computer-aided
synthesis of and countertenor and soprano makes a convincing approximation. Although
the singing is not perfectly synchronised with the actor’s lip movements, the illusion
works well enough. Some of Farinelli's performances in the film are intensely moving
and provide the tragic poignancy which is so clearly missing elsewhere in the script.
Whilst the film fails to appeal to the intellect, it manages to engage the senses through
its spectacular musical and visual display. Costumes and sets conjure up an age
of grace and shameless decadence, whilst the music charms us with its indefinable eternal
beauty. As a piece of historical drama, the film doesn't quite hold together, yet
it still manages to come across as a work of artistic merit.
© James Travers 2001
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