The grand, operatic gestures in Farinelli are apropos, considering its subject matter: It tells the story of Carlo Broschi, an 18th-century castrato called Farinelli, a performer with the beautiful voice of a soprano and the tortured heart of a man who can’t help but believe his gift, one deviated from nature’s course, is both a blessing and a curse. Sumptuous to look at, this recent Oscar nominee for best foreign film has contemporary resonance — as countless women swoon over the charismatic but emasculated title character, you can’t help but see parallels between this historical figure and modern-day, pop culture icons such as… Michael Jackson, perhaps? Scriptwriter Andree Corbiau has structured the film’s larger-than-life screenplay in Freudian terms in which fraternal love and guilt are inextricably intertwined. Farinelli and his brother, Riccardo, have a pact which dictates that they share everything — their careers, their women, their lives. What’s more, it requires Riccardo to compose musically inferior works short on inspiration but long on flourishes and embellishments, allowing Farinelli to showcase his vocal range for his adoring audiences. (Of course, there’s a reason for this symbiotic relationship, one that’s not too difficult to discern before its revelation in the film’s third act.) As Farinelli, Dionisi emphasizes his character’s grande dame tendencies; for the most part, he plays the role with the flair of a temperamental diva. It’s a performance, however, that’s little more than adequate, trading more on superficialities than any true emotion. And although a subplot involving the famed (and somewhat sadistic) George Handel, a composer who is awed and envious of Farinelli’s success, has Amadeus-inspired overtones, the heart and soul of this movie lies in its brother-love conflict. Despite its aspirations, however, Farinelli doesn’t always soar with the beauty and feeling of its castrato’s arias. But there’s no question that it hits a couple of high notes, which — if you like historical dramas of this kind — may make it worth seeing.
This article appears in June 2 • 1995 (Cover).
