Elegance and Lyricism in Verdi Requiem

In celebrating the beginning of the 75th anniversary season of the Hollywood Bowl, the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Master Chorale have gone through three of the Romantic era’s biggest and best monuments with three different conductors in less than a week. So by the time they reached Verdi’s Requiem Thursday night, close on the heels of the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven and the Eighth of Mahler, masterpiece burnout was feared.

Compensating for that possibility, the week had been entrusted to veterans, the Beethoven to Lukas Foss at the culmination of Saturday’s marathon, and the Mahler and Verdi to the beloved Robert Shaw. But with Shaw indisposed, the Mahler wound up slightly battered by Eliahu Inbal and the Verdi was in the hands of a less-experienced newcomer, John Fiore, making his Philharmonic and Bowl debuts. This time the results were marvelous.

Fiore, who made his professional debut at the San Francisco Opera 10 years ago, makes no issue of whether Verdi was writing opera in mass-for-the-dead dress; he conducts simply as if Verdi was being Verdi. He neither emphasizes the theatrical elements nor denies them. He is too busy giving the singers just exactly the support that they need. A singers’ conductor and superb one, he knows that every musical gesture in Verdi is a vocal one.

All of this would be of little effect, of course, if what we so often hear--that Verdi singers are a dying breed--were true. Thursday inspired hope when all four soloists had something special to offer. In Kallen Esperian, it is a musky soprano full of smoke and sensuality. She tightens a bit in the upper ranges, but only a bit, and she phrases with the kind of allure that makes that seem an asset.

Michael Sylvester will probably never be the fourth tenor, he has neither the personality nor sweetness for that. He is not a natural and one senses just how hard he has to work to keep his beefy tenor in line, but he does the hard work, and sings with ardor and sensitivity. Mezzo-soprano Florence Quivar and baritone James Morris have long satisfied, but neither sounded better than here, and especially Morris, who--at his peak--is profound in every utterance.

Both the soloists and the Fiore seemed to inspire the Philharmonic to match them in elegance and lyricism, and it played like a different band Thursday than it had two nights previously. Even the sound system seemed to take a liking to them, unusually flattering the solo voices and hardly masking beautiful orchestral playing. The Master Chorale did not fare so well, but through the tin sound one heard a chorus in its element, alert to nuance and alive to drama.

Verdi’s Requiem is not, of course, outdoor music, and there were the usual distractions. But the helicopter that swooped overhead, like an agent of war, also seemed called forth by music descriptive of the wrath of God, and it had a miraculous effect of settling a restive audience (an hour-and-a-half piece performed without break is never a good idea in a place where eating and drinking are invited).

But it is also no coincidence that Verdi went over so much better than Mahler had earlier in the week. Italian music is never too far removed from life as lived, and Verdi, in particular, was a composer of the people. Nor is it a coincidence that Italy has so many successful outdoor opera arenas. The Requiem brought back memories of terrific Italian opera performances at the Bowl from years past, which is one of the nicer ways to celebrate its history during an anniversary week.