Guiseppe Verdi's Requiem has received many performances in Anchorage over the years -- so many that at one point I pledged never to sing it or sit through it again unless a coffin was somewhere in the vicinity of the stage. But the performance heard in "Defiant Requiem: Verdi at Terezin" in Atwood Hall on Friday night was a different matter. Described as a "concert-drama," it interweaves the movements of the well-known piece (you've heard it in movies, television ads and video games) with narration and historical videos that bring to life a remarkable event in World War II.
In 1943-44, Jewish prisoners at the Terezin concentration camp in Czechoslovakia managed to memorize and present the big choral work 16 times before being sent to their deaths. In recorded interviews, survivors of the camp described it as an attempt to keep spirits up in horrible circumstances and also a way to defy their oppressors, hence the title. Murry Sidlin, who created the performance arrangement and conducts the current Anchorage presentations, also sees it as a tribute to conductor Rafael Schachter, the prisoner who rehearsed and led the Terezin performances.
At least 200 musicians were on the stage Friday. The Anchorage Concert Chorus was supplemented by the UAA University Singers and a big orchestra featured some of the state's best professional instrumentalists along with the UAA Sinfonia. The forces made a scalding impact in the louder parts of the piece and Sidlin had a fiery approach, taking the "Dies Irae" faster than I think I've heard it before. In many performances this musical panorama of the Last Judgment is presented as a personal plea, a panicked prayer for mercy for the individual chorister. In this case, however, the singers were angry, furiously hurling the words as, one suspects, the Terezin chorus must have hurled them at the Nazi officers sitting in the front row. It had the feel of a gigantic scythe in the hands of the Grim Reaper slashing through humanity.
Sidlin also inserted a certain Jewish flavor into the music in places. Bringing out the brass in the "Lacrymosa," for instance, gave the impression of a klezmer band. The soloists in the "Agnus Dei" and "Lux aeterna" sometimes had the ambiance of a synagogue cantor. All of the notes are in Verdi's well-known score but here they sounded like something new.
The opening movement and "Sanctus" were halted at different points for spoken narrative delivered by Sidlin, Barbara Brown and Tyson Hewitt. In places, a solo piano accompanied the singers in lieu of the full orchestra, a recreation of the rehearsal score Schachter used for his performances. The program opened with concertmaster Lee Wilkins playing Bach's Chaconne in D Minor for solo violin. Other music one might have heard at Terezin was layered on until it became a cacophony that segued into a loud train whistle, signifying the transport of prisoners to the camp and thence to the gas chambers.
The taped interviews with people who had sung in the choir or otherwise survived Terezin were most compelling and their recollections nicely led into the different parts of the Requiem. Footage of the camp itself and the cattle cars taking people to their doom added poignancy to the "Agnus Dei." The live narration was illuminating, particularly regarding the opposition Schachter faced from the elders and rabbis in the camp. However, it ran too long and would have benefited from assiduous editing; when you're talking about genocide, adjectives just get in the way.
Mezzo Marsha Miller-Ackerman was the standout among the soloists, a real Verdi voice. She was the singer most consistently audible in the ensembles. Baritone Anton Belov and tenor John Ken Nuzzo were competent but one wished for a bit more character, sweetness or authority, necessary to sustain interest when a solo singer has to follow an enormous chorus. Mari Hahn's soprano was lyric rather than dramatic but a pleasure to listen to, and, though her low register disappeared in the mix, her high notes were clear and precise.
The chorus was generally quite good but, as might be expected from such a large group, had difficulties in the fugues. Here they sometimes lost their confidence and their way, which meant that they were overwhelmed by the orchestra. Sidlin seemed to shrug after the "Sanctus," as if to say that, in this instance, precision was less important than emotion. The starved, overworked and terrified singers in Terezin must have muddled through the complexities of the "Sanctus" and "Libera Me" too.
Emotionally, "Defiant Requiem" was a distinct success. At the end, the orchestra and chorus departed humming a Hebrew dirge until finally only Wilkins was left on stage, playing the plaintive melody on a lonely violin before turning off the light on his music rack and leaving himself.
The audience took the projected request to observe a moment of silence to heart. They sat silently for a minute or so before the house lights came up. There was a brief smattering of applause but most simply shuffled out quietly. I passed several people who were in tears.
One patron with a wet handkerchief mentioned that a good number of high school students, perhaps a majority, do not know what the Holocaust was.
"I wish there had been more young people here," he said.
DEFIANT REQUIEM will be presented at 4 p.m. Sunday at Atwood Concert Hall. Tickets are available at centertix.net.