Rufus Wainwright’s ‘Requiem’: A Funeral for the American Dream?

Is this a farewell to the world we once knew, or a reckoning we’ve long avoided

STAFF

Rufus Wainwright, photographed by V. Tony Hauser.

Rufus Wainwright has always been larger than life—whether reviving Judy Garland’s legacy or crafting orchestral masterpieces, he operates in grandiosity. But his latest project, Requiem, might be his boldest statement yet. It’s not just music. It’s an elegy for an era, a sonic obituary for a dream that once seemed untouchable.

Debuting with the Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Wainwright’s Requiem takes on a chilling weight. It’s not about death in the literal sense. It’s about the death of belief, of optimism, of a world that once seemed full of possibility.

"It's for all the people who really believed in something that maybe doesn’t exist anymore," Wainwright told CBC's Q.

Historically, a Requiem is meant to mourn the departed, a deeply religious and emotional farewell. But Wainwright’s take? It feels more like a wake-up call draped in elegance. The sweeping orchestrations, the haunting choral arrangements—each note seems to ask:

What if the American Dream was always an illusion?

With the world in a state of crisis—politically, socially, environmentally—Wainwright’s Requiem couldn’t be more timely. It doesn’t just grieve the past. It forces listeners to confront the present.

Is this the moment where we admit that the dream is dead? Or is it a chance to build something new?