Opera Australia’s three most recent offerings have been linked by more than the absence of staging. In the two late 19th-century operas, Thais and Parsifal, both performed in concert settings, a religious way of life is pitted against a world of sensual temptations (a plot schema used with satirical undertones by Massenet, and with deadly seriousness by Wagner). Third to be performed, but earliest in order of composition by a few years, Verdi’s Requiem (1874) may not be an opera proper but it, too, is structured by a similar set of contrasts. In this case, the drama plays out on in an eschatological realm as the clash between secure faith and salvation on the one hand, and the terrifying prospect of judgment and damnation on the other. Last night’s performance rendered this with unusual vividness, reminding us why observers such as Hans von Bülow have regarded it as an “opera in church clothing”.
One would have understood it had the Requiem been a little flat after the company’s heroics the previous night, when the first performance of Parsifal finished 30 minutes shy of midnight. Gratifyingly, both chorus and orchestra were thoroughly on form right from the off: the thinnest wisp of sound from the strings at the start was answered by whispered calls of “Requiem”, everything magically at the very limits of audibility. At the other end of the dynamic spectrum was the popular Dies irae, here given a thrilling reading in which the bass drum off-beats were felt as palpable body blows.
Throughout the performance, both groups contributed signally to the vivid storytelling, thanks to the careful pacing and broad range of tones elicited by conductor Renato Palumbo. His was an animated but not obtrusive presence on the podium, marshalling the large forces with aplomb. His control and (the musicians’ and singers’ responsiveness) were exemplified in the breathtaking sudden quiet oases in the otherwise rumbustious final Libera me fugue. One was prepared to forgive the odd imperfection such as the momentary misalignment of the off-stage trumpets in the lead-up to the Tuba mirum.
The soloists were entirely different to those who had sung their hearts out in Wagner's final opera the previous evening. Soprano Serena Farnocchia had a clear penetrating delivery, and captured much of the desperation of the recitative-like Libera me solos. Her final top B flat was beautifully secure, although perhaps in an ideal world it could have been more gently floated, given the ‘still more softly’ instructions on the score here. Milijana Nikolic, a popular favourite in the company, was having an off night vocally. Her tone sounded woolly, especially in the naked opening to the Agnus Dei (where she was shadowing the more laser-like Farnocchia an octave lower), and there were frequent audibility problems, not all of which could be ascribed to my seat on the opposite side of the stalls.