Micha Hamel's Requiem is beautifully spatial but lacks substantive urgency #hf12

In his Requiem for tenor, narrator and ensemble, Micha Hamel makes the most of the space of Amsterdam's De Duif church. Musicians play on the altar, from the balconies, mingle among the audience and push out a piano. - But what does Hamel really want to say?

In front of a sold-out house last night, Requiem by Micha Hamel premiered. He composed this nearly two-hour work commissioned by the Holland Festival and cut it on the beautiful, single-aisle space of The Dove. With its throne-like altar, high balconies and gnawed frescoes, this ecumenical church on Amsterdam's Prinsengracht is the ideal setting for reflections on death.

Shadows from the realm of the dead

As the last visitors seek a seat on the improvised bleachers, snatches of music blow in from behind the altar. - Has the play already begun, or are the musicians still tuning up? Meanwhile, hurried shadows move behind glass doors, like creatures in the realm of the dead. Then musicians emerge from all sides, clad in ceremonial black but barefoot. Some position themselves on either side of the audience, others climb the stage.

Thus, Hamel creates an expectant tension, which is broken when a far-right saxophone creates a drawn-out descending minor third chants. This plaintive interval is a primal cry in almost all cultures - of desire, love, but also of fear, and runs like a thread through the performance. Suddenly, a bassoon answers on the left of the altar, weaving slow fanning lines through the saxophone's discourse. The archaic melodies have a great spaciousness, which blends nicely with the lush acoustics.

Famous last words

Actor Porgy Franssen acts as master of ceremonies and asks: 'Is there a dead person in the room?' He strikes a gong and announces that we are about to move 'to the other side', after which flute and harp also cautiously stir. The hushed atmosphere is torn to shreds with wild piano chords, against which tenor Marcel Beekman declares a text by Gertrude Stein by way of Introitus: 'What is the answer? In that case: what is the question?'

The pattern is set. In twenty-four songs on 'famous last words', new age, modern dissonance, British folk tunes, Viennese waltzes, cabaret music, Mahlerian marches and minimalist growling organ sounds alternate. The musicians move around the church, pushing the piano further and further towards the exit, out of our sight. Hats off to their perfect, well-matched playing, which they often perform from memory.

Banal texts

Too bad Marcel Beekman sings so flat and emotionless, unintelligible too. Hamel writes beautiful parts and subtly blends instruments, but what he wants to say remains unclear. He himself argues to bury Western musical culture, but the lyrics he puts in Franssen's mouth lack urgency and are often banal: 'Some people let themselves be frozen after death. But the question is whether we want to see them in a thawed state.'

Moreover, the Requiem is too verbose and repetitive to remain captivating. Hamel dedicated it to himself. - Hopefully, this does not prove prophetic.