Review: Singing of a World on the Verge of an Opera End

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One of the many things that ended in the fire of WWII was the great Italian operatic tradition. Puccini, his deity, died in 1924; In the aftermath of the conflict, modernism dominated European music, and a particular branch of lyric theater came to an end.

Ricky Ian Gordon’s eulogy to this tradition adds some poignancy to the fact that his new opera “The Garden of the Finzi-Continis” is set in Ferrara, Italy, on the brink of war, amidst the members of the city. The Jewish community, largely blind to the tragedy that awaits them. Their impending destruction is a reflection of the emotional, melodic form used to tell their stories.

Emotional and melodic, yes, but overdone and too long here too. Adapted from Giorgio Bassani’s 1962 novel of the same name, adapted into Vittorio De Sica’s 1970 film, Gordon’s opera alternates the poetic richness of its source with a stark seriousness that feels like it’s going on unabated every three hours.

Presented by the New York Opera and the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in Manhattan, the piece opens at the Lincoln Center Theater almost simultaneously with another Gordon opera, “Intimate Apparel,” due to pandemic delays. Together, they are an important showcase for a composer known for his masterful passionate songs, eclecticism and versatility. Set in 1905 New York, “Intimate Apparel” draws on Americana and ragtime; “Finzi-Continis,” italianità.

But while Gordon clearly aims for Puccinian glamor and extroversion, the score isn’t exactly cohesive; The 15-member orchestra under James Lowe doesn’t deliver hits so humming as a plush carpet and punctuation for hot singers. The sound lines aren’t earworms either. They continue to rise in full-blown monologues and ensembles.

A roaring look at a story that wasn’t whispered. Giorgio is a middle-class young man caught in the circle of Finzi-Continis, aristocratic Jews living on his lush estates in idyllic isolation from the increasingly unfriendly world. As the fascists take over Italy and anti-Semitism becomes law, the family’s daughter falls madly in love with Micòl.

It’s simple enough, but in the opera, with the exception of an introduction and an afterword, so much action is packed into 19 scenes – an uninterrupted narrative effort. Michael Korie’s libretto may have been significantly selected; Among other things, the subplot of Micòl’s brother, an introverted gay who yearned for his former roommate because of his failing health, could easily be deduced. And Korie’s text, which often refers to the rhyme, can be ludicrous: “It evokes a feeling I’ve taken out of anarchy.”

As Giorgio, tenor Anthony Ciaramitaro barely stopped his roar at Sunday’s performance, but at least he did it tirelessly and in a pure tone. Soprano Rachel Blaustein brought Micòl a sweetness that persisted despite the whims of her character. Michael Capasso and Richard Stafford’s staging did its best to cope with the flood of episodes, based on a simple set lit by evocative projections by John Farrell.

The end of the opera was surprisingly shaken by the post-Holocaust imperative – the doctrine of “never forget” at this point. Standing in Ferrara’s ruined synagogue after the war, Giorgio appealed to his memoirs, “To live my life, I must let you go.” It’s an interesting twist from tradition in a work that otherwise relentlessly reaps it.

The Garden of Finzi-Continis

Sunday at the Jewish Heritage Museum in Manhattan; nycopera.com.

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