Requiem

The genesis of Requiem

Verdi’s monumental Requiem first premiered in 1874 although its composition goes back a couple of years. Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901) composed the closing movement of Libera me first, on the death of Gioachino Rossini in 1868. “A great name has disappeared from the world! His was the most widespread, the most popular reputation of our time, and it was a glory of Italy! When the other one who still lives [the poet Alessandro Manzoni] is no more, what will we have left?” These were the words of Verdi upon hearing the news of Rossini’s death in 1868. It was Rossini’s passing that first inspired Verdi to propose a collaborative Requiem written by the most distinguished Italian composers, to honour Rossini’s memory. For a number of reasons, the proposed Rossini memorial ceremony was shelved, although every composer who was asked to write a movement completed their assigned section on time including Libera me by Verdi.

Afterwards, Verdi busied himself with his opera Aida, as well as composed his String Quartet in E Minor. In 1873, the aforementioned Manzoni, whom Verdi regarded with reverence, died. With Manzoni’s death, Verdi returned immediately to the idea of a Requiem Mass. “It was an impulse, or, to put it better, a need from my heart, to honour, as best I could, this great man whom I held in such esteem as a writer, and venerated as a man, and as a model of virtue and patriotism,” wrote Verdi in a letter to the mayor of Milan. He completed his work on 10 April 1874. Its original title read Requiem Mass for the anniversary of the death of Manzoni, 22 May 1874. The first performance of Requiem took place at Basilica di San Marco, Milan, under the personal direction of Verdi. For the first time in Hungary, the ensemble of the National Theatre performed the work in 1875, conducted by Sándor Erkel.

Verdi’s funeral mass

Verdi’s Requiem is a personal statement of grief that employs structure and text borrowed from church liturgy. However, Verdi was not personally devout, the words of the Catholic Requiem Mass for the Dead served as an expressive outlet for the universal need to convey the emotions. The dramatic, operatic quality of Verdi’s Requiem ill-suited it for use as part of a regular church service, and Verdi never intended it to function as liturgy. Conductor Hans von Bülow’s famous remark that Requiem was “an opera in ecclesiastical costume” was meant as negative criticism. However, one can take von Bülow’s words at face value, without the harsh judgment he intended. Certainly, no other Requiem comes close to approaching the drama and tension of Verdi’s, and the ebb and flow of emotion it generates parallels the narrative arc of a grand opera.

The liturgy of a Requiem Mass is not standardized; each composer must make specific choices regarding which texts to include. Verdi begins with the standard opening lines, Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine (Grant them eternal rest, O Lord), which the chorus and orchestra intone in hushed, muted phases. The four soloists join the chorus and orchestra for an exuberant Kyrie eleison (Lord have mercy), which makes the Dies irae (Day of Wrath) that follows all the more terrifying. The sopranos and tenors sustain a high G while the lower voices, punctuated by a shrill piccolo and a pounding bass drum, warn of the Day of Wrath, when fire shall destroy the earth, according to dire prophecy. A monumental chorus of brasses precedes the bass solo movement Tuba mirum (Wondrous trumpet), which describes the sound of the trumpet that will summon all to judgment. The Sequence, which begins with Dies irae and ends with Lacrimosa (Weeping), covers the full emotional spectrum from abject terror to gentle entreaties for mercy.

The tender opening of Offertory, which features the four soloists, emphasizes the mercy of Christ. Its rocking meter suggests a lullaby, and as the singers describe the “holy light” God promised to Abraham and his descendants, both the vocal and orchestral writing grow more luminous. Verdi expertly delivers us from the pits of hell (low timbres and registers) into the glowing warmth of salvation, and readies us for the untrammelled joy of Sanctus, with its trumpet fanfare proclaiming “Holy, holy, holy, Lord of Hosts! Heaven and earth are filled with your glory!” In Agnus Dei, Verdi shifts from extroversion to unadorned unisono contemplation with minimal orchestral accompaniment, as first the chorus, then the soprano and mezzo sing, “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them eternal rest.” Verdi ends his Requiem with an agitated soprano intoning the opening lines of Libera me (Deliver me). All the drama of the earlier sections returns, as if Verdi intended to leave us with a sense of uncertainty: will we, in the final analysis, be redeemed? Verdi reprises the music of the Dies irae, but eventually, the chorus and soprano end with an almost inaudible whisper, “Libera me. Libera me.”

Diána Eszter Mátrai (after Elizabeth Schwarz and Péter Várnai)

The director’s concept

Verdi’s Requiem uses musical means to process one of the essential aspects of our human existence, namely, living with the inevitability of passing. During the creative process, we always tried to adapt this work into a theatrical form that fits the libretto. Our starting point was the fact that although every movement of the work is about death, every one of them approaches the subject from a different state of emotion, and we intended to capture these differences in each scene. As a result, the performance has the characteristics of a string of episodes instead of a continuous storytelling. It is a series of loosely connected moments, which are often linked by associations rather than logic.

The only cohesive force in the narrative is that we see the events from the point of view of one of the characters – performed by the soprano –, the way she imagines the apocalypse, the day of death. Her fears, desperation, reconciliation, and her attempt to find a way out are represented in the production. We aimed to place this character in an environment where death is indirectly present as the lack of living life. We were inspired, among other things, by the opening scene of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, where a life forced into monotony prevents many from experiencing a wider range of emotions. It is where we go into the world of visions from. I don’t think that this oratorio can be called an opera from any point of view, but elements that Verdi used as an opera composer, including structural units such as recitatives, arias, ensembles, do appear in his musical toolkit. Through his music, Verdi offers different approaches to death, which are often contradictory and yet valid at the same time. The power of the work comes from this contradiction.

Ádám Tulassay