The Garden of the Finzi-Continis opera review – a wake-up call for troubled times

It was a bleak, snowdrift evening. I was sloshing through dark Battery Park, on the tip of Manhattan, to the Museum of Jewish Heritage. A Living Memorial to the Holocaust, it is hosting a new opera, The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, by American art song composer Ian Ricky Gordon, courtesy of New York City Opera (NYCO) and National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene. 

It’s a book by Giorgio Bassani – who names the hero/chief protagonist after himself – then became a celebrated 1970 artsy film by Vittorio De Sica – and now is reborn as opera. I’ve not read the book. I have seen the film, wistfully idyllic, shot in a The Remains of the Day nostalgic haze. I have now enjoyed the opera, much more hard-hitting and disturbing. Good shout to take the risk of writing it. 

The museum proves to be a stark place. The audience is stark, too. Nowadays, I clock an audience’s age. On that freezing night, I was one of the young crowd. There was a sense of people braving New York’s snell winds to bear witness to a near-family event. Many were swathed, not dressed. Zimmers clashed on flashing crosswalks.

What an apt location to stage the sharpest on-stage reminder I have seen in years, that optimistic complicity and convenient self-deception can be catalysts driving terrible political events. 

The history of NYCO is an opera plot in its own right. Rescued in 2016 from Chapter 11 bankruptcy, it is headed by opera producer Michael Capasso. I spotted his extravagant blow-dried coiffe in the lobby and attempted to engage him in an exclusive conversation, on behalf of Reaction subscribers.

I was given the brush-de-off. Or rush-de-bum. Take your pick. I learnt afterwards from friends in the business that there is lingering resentment amongst Manhattan singers over unpaid fees. Probably thought I was a baritone on the mooch for moolah.

Be that as it may, this is a brave thematic choice for an opera company whose usual home is the 1200-seater Jazz auditorium at the Rose Theater, Lincoln Center, just off Columbus Circle. 

As the plot is probably unfamiliar, no apology for a full synopsis. The action starts with a Prologue in 1955. Giorgio has returned to Ferrara and visits the now decrepit synagogue – its eternal flame extinguished. The action then unfolds as a flashback.

It is 1933. Fifteen-year-old Giorgio and his family attend Jewish high holiday service. Behind them sit the Finzi-Continis, with a pretty teenage daughter, Micòl. Giorgio has a crush. The two teens exchange furtive glances. Giorgio’s Papà tells him Micòl’s family won’t wear it. “They’re not like us.”

Micòl leads Giorgio on. She gazes over her Finzi-Contini forbidden garden wall and promises the young Giorgio a kiss if he can climb it. Damn! He can’t. Leaves deflated.

Fast forward to 1938 when Mussolini’s Italy passes the Racial Laws as Il Duce falls under the influence of the Führer. Papà can no longer bank, the public library is off-limits to Giorgio’s brother Ernesto, and the organisers of a local tennis tournament dis-invite all Jewish players. 

The Finzi-Continis declare open house. The use of their tennis court allows Giorgio to spend time with Micòl. Enter Malnate, the handsome former college roommate of Alberto Finzi-Contini. He fashionably claims to be an agnostic, a lapsed Catholic, and communist. Views almost as interesting as his matinee-idol looks.

After the match, Giorgio and Micòl take a walk in the garden. The lack of flowers and the abundance of old trees disappoint Giorgio. Metaphor. The outwardly tempting garden is not, on closer examination, well-tended. 

During a brief rain shower, the couple shelter beneath a tree, holding hands shyly before Micòl runs away and Giorgio is shown the gate by the estate’s Catholic majordomo, Perotti.

Spooky Tik Tok type scene. Giorgio calls Micòl, who informs him she’s wearing a white negligee, setting Giorgio a-lather. She also describes her room, which is entirely white. The reason: Micòl is an avid collector of Murano glass art – is Giorgio about to be added to her collection? – and the white surroundings allow the objets d’art to become the focal point of the room. Does Micòl collect scalps, too?

As Giorgio focuses on Micòl, she speaks passionately about her collection, before telling him she’s off to Venice to finish her studies. Dad had pulled strings.

Giorgio cack-handedly tells Micòl he loves her. No go. In despair, he takes to the streets of Ferrara, now alien. When he enters the synagogue, he finds it desecrated. Meanwhile, his brother Ernesto’s pleas for them to flee the country fall on deaf ears.

In spite of Ernesto’s perceptive warnings, Giorgio believes Italy will return to normal, and Micòl will love him. The delusion of “all shall pass”.

Act Two opens with Micòl in Venice, writing a letter to Giorgio. She explicitly states their relationship is platonic. Giorgio deludes himself, sees the letter as a sign of affection. After finishing her letter, Micòl, ever enamoured of her Murano glass, purchases an antique goblet before sauntering off with an unknown fancy man.

Giorgio visits the Finzi-Contini family library, where he meets Professor Ermanno, the family patriarch. The Professor confides that the Finzi-Contini bloodline is dying, and the conversation concludes with Ermanno asking Giorgio to be a friend to his son, Alberto. 

The professor, too, expresses some confidence that Italy’s present situation will blow over. Nothing can touch the Finzi-Continis. The garden wall is impregnable.

Giorgio visits Alberto in his “salon,” when Malnate shows up. They drink to the tune of a big band record. Malnate and Alberto engage in an alcohol-buzzed dance. Malnate is simply horsing around, but the contact means much more to Alberto. 

Frustrated that he can’t express the secret love he holds toward his former roommate, the dance sends Alberto into the garden, where he laments he will die a virgin.

The Passover seder with Giorgio’s family descends into a fight as Ernesto takes a hammer to the family self-deception, “Keep Calm and Carry On”. A phone call from Alberto summons Giorgio to the Finzi-Contini estate, and he rushes over, hoping Micòl has returned from university.

Now at the Finzi-Contini seder, Giorgio observes the family ganging up on Alberto about his weight and their concern for his health. Angered, he takes the antique goblet Micòl bought in Venice and plays fortune teller. 

After dropping several folded pieces of paper with the words “yes” and “no” written on them, he summons the oracle of the goblet and asks a series of benign questions, but then Alberto turns serious, asks about his health, and the goblet’s response is dire: Alberto is dying of leukaemia.

After dinner, Giorgio speaks with Micòl in her room, desperate to hear her say she loves him. Thwarted, he attempts to rape her. Micòl tells Giorgio once and for all; she will never love him romantically and he is never to return to the estate. 

The devastated Giorgio goes home, where he is consoled by Mamma and Papà. They also provide him and Ernesto with passports and papers to get the brothers to the Swiss border.

Malnate hopes to cheer the despondent Giorgio by hooking him up with prostitutes on the streets of Ferrara. After paying for the hookers, he leaves Giorgio to his own devices and heads straight for the Finzi-Continis’ and the arms of his lover, Micòl.

Giorgio learns the torrid truth when cycling past the Finzi-Contini estate. There’s Malnate’s bicycle where his should be. Turning voyeur, he watches Micòl and Malnate having sex. Ernesto finds his brother near the estate. In his hands are suitcases and he urges his brother to leave the country before it’s too late. They escape successfully.

In the penultimate scene: the Jews of Ferrara stand on the train station platform, awaiting the fate that has caught up with them. The privilege enjoyed by the Finzi-Continis has run its course, and they are no longer welcome in their own country or city.

In the Epilogue, the opera returns to the year 1955, Giorgio in the ruined synagogue. There he speaks with Perotti, now the caretaker of the synagogue. There’s little closure as Giorgio remembers the departed. He says farewell to his Mamma, Papà, and Micòl before leaving. 

The first act sets the major themes. The first is denial. The Italian-Jewish community of Ferrara refused to believe Italy could become as bad as Germany, even after the Racial Laws. Papà, and so many others, believed things would return to normal if the Jewish people could just hang tight. Giorgio indulges in a parallel denial, vainly pursuing Micòl.

The Finzi-Continis overt acts of charity are grounded in sand. The out-of-the-blue offer to come to use the family’s tennis court, the use the Professor’s library, and paying for the synagogue is on the face of it charitable. 

But the scenes in the opera are drawn to show Finzi-Contini elitism. They use wealth to solidify their privilege and power within the community. Already, influencers, in 1938! The second is unrequited love, Giorgio and Micòl. Alberto’s and Malnate. Neither fly. 

In Act Two, both of those themes develop. Once more, both Giorgio’s family and the Finzi-Continis believe the Fascist government will soon run its course, and while life hasn’t improved, the families feel relatively safe. However, there is a pervasive sense of their diminishing hope. 

Then, there is the unanswered question. Does Alberto really have leukaemia? He simply pulled a folded slip of paper from the goblet with a 50/50 chance of the answer being “yes.” Did he ultimately die of cancer, or was he murdered in a death camp? 

What of the Professor’s knowledge of Alberto’s condition? In the library scene with Giorgio, he asks rather sadly if Giorgio will be Alberto’s friend. Why so sad? Why the belief that he, Professor Ermanno, is the last of the Finzi-Continis? Why did Micòl never view Giorgio as a viable match? The conclusion I drew, maybe he’s too Jewish.

The Finzi-Continis were not observant – “high holiday Jews” – and they kept themselves separate from the larger Jewish community in Ferrara, behind that garden wall. How many like them in Italy and Germany thought they could erase their ethnicity?

Micòl wishes to shed her heritage as much as possible. Falling in love with an agnostic is a sharp two fingers to tradition. Whether Micòl’s parents would go along with the relationship is another unanswered question, but Il Duce renders that judgement irrelevant. 

The production, courtesy of John Farrell, was innovative and brilliant. The space was intimate. The orchestra was located off stage left. Onstage there were a series of blank white canvas intersecting shapes. How was that going to work?

Suddenly, we were in Ferrara. The jagged geometry was illuminated with brilliant projections taken by Farrell’s team over a six-week stay in the town. The geometry to match the garden, synagogue and street projections on the blanks was pin-sharp perfect. James Webb Telescope eat your heart out. 

The costumes were magnificent – from period tennis kit to the elegant dresses and tuxedos the Finzi-Continis seemed to think de rigueure at breakfast. That was down to Ildikó Debreczeni, who has been designing opera kit for over 30 years. 

On first acquaintance, Gordon’s score might seem lightweight, but the music takes on depth when it counts. The Racial Laws are promulgated to an ominous, “The law is the law,” driven drumbeat. 

Conductor James Lowe did a terrific job with his 15 strong NYCO Orchestra – quite sufficient to fill the space with sound. Clearly, he warms to every nuance in Gordon’s score.

The entire cast performed well, but the two principals deserve a special mention. Tenor, Anthony Ciaramitaro, for his fascinating depiction of Giorgio, and soprano Rachel Blaustein’s as Micòl. 

Ciaramitaro is an American rising star, has performed for Los Angeles opera and is on the Met register as an understudy. Blaustein had a powerful presence and was entirely unlikeable as Micòl. In the film, the character is more conflicted. Here, she was just mean. 

Her website tells me I shall see her again in Washington DC in March, performing in the world premiere of Written in Stone a new opera about monuments from a cohort of creative artists. Snag is, she is not on the cast list. Maybe plans to be in the audience. More investigation required. 

Meanwhile, uptown, at the Jewish Museum, The Hare with Amber Eyes is gazing soulfully at an admiring public. He embodies the tragedy that engulfed the prominent European Ephrussi family, whose treasured possessions were looted by the Nazis. The book of the same name by Edmund de Waal became a best seller in 2010.

What moved me most about that exhibition was how creepily normal were the artefacts on show. The passport of Charles Ephrussi bearing Swastikas of exit visas looked unexceptional, in better nick than mine! Just like Giorgio and Ernesto’s. 

My post-war generation, focused on the war it narrowly escaped, sometimes forgets how ordinary institutionalised fascism was in Europe, creeping into the everyday lives of Jewish communities for 15 years before hostilities broke out. “Look hard at the little things”, admonishes the hare, a simple, elegant, pure white ivory animal – or a pretty little Japanese garment toggle to the unromantic.  

The hare on the Upper East side warns of Hitler. The Garden of the Finzi-Continis in Battery Park frames Mussolini. In these troubled times, Ian Ricky Gordon’s opera is a clarion wake-up call.