Follies: Ahmanson Theatre

Follies: Review for L.A. Weekly

Stephen Sondheim in Conversation: Segerstrom Center for the Arts, 10/29/11

Segerstrom Center for the Arts sent an e-mail around 4pm and the LA Times published an article at 5:50, but Jen and I didn’t know the news until we reached the box office last night:

We regret to inform you that Stephen Sondheim was unable to travel to Orange County due to snow storms in the New York area which have impacted flights.

What is “Stephen Sondheim in Conversation” without Stephen Sondheim? Jen and I were disappointed, to be sure … but not devastated. We would be appeased with an impromptu concert. Last night’s brilliantly cobbled-together performance illuminated the the immense talents of Christine Ebersole and Brian Stokes Mitchell, as well as their music director Tedd Firth; the joys of “live” performance; and, perhaps most importantly, the way in which Stephen Sondheim’s work has indelibly impacted his fans’ lives. Although Sondheim was not present for the concert, his creative and collaborative spirit presided over the evening’s deeply satisfying entertainment.

Michael Kerker, director of musical theater for ASCAP, kicked off the concert with an explanation of the travel fiasco. Apparently Sondheim was in the plane at JFK, ready to depart, when all flights were canceled due to accumulating snow. In true theatrical fashion, Christine Ebersole and Brian Stokes Mitchell – already in Orange County – decided the show must go on. They met in their dressing room yesterday afternoon and pieced together a set list of favorite Sondheim songs. With Kerker providing detailed historical connective tissue and animated anecdotes between musical numbers, Ebersole and Mitchell conquered an impressive array of material: from hit 11 o’clock numbers to songs cut in pre-Broadway tryouts, from canonized classics to (in)famous musical flops.

We often praise performance for its “liveness,” but let’s be honest: that “liveness” is not always palpable. Theater aims for consistency through repetition; it is scripted and blocked, often functioning like a well-oiled machine. The relationships between actors will shift slightly from night to night, and the dynamic of the audience can shape a performance; these shifts are most palpable for the cast, creative team, and repeat theatergoers. But nothing makes us so aware of “liveness” as when the machine breaks, when “real life” intervenes and performers are made vulnerable. (Why do you think Spider Man continues to sell on Broadway … ?) Last night’s concert was all the more thrilling because its “liveness” was palpable. The set list had been sketched out beforehand, but the exact details were delightfully improvisatory. The highly knowledgeable Michael Kerker could throw in another Sondheim story on a whim; Brian Stokes Mitchell could delay a song’s start for a heartfelt tribute to his accompanist; Christine Ebersole could quip away. The performers’ playfulness and generosity enraptured the audience.

The concert included three outstanding duets starring Ebersole and Mitchell: “You Must Meet My Wife” from A Little Night Music, “Barcelona” from Company, and an especially rollicking “A Little Priest” from Sweeney Todd. The always-solid Brian Stokes Mitchell offered a determined performance of “Everybody Says Don’t” from Anyone Can Whistle and a heartwrenching “Loving You” from Passion, though his “In Praise of Women” from A Little Night Music lacked humor and “Giants in the Sky” from Into the Woods could have used a more youthful sense of discovery.

As impressive a performer as Mitchell is, his dramatic baritone felt one-note in comparison to Christine Ebersole’s versatile soprano. Ebersole deftly flipped among accents in “The Boy From …” (a parody of “The Girl from Ipanema”), while her take on “Can That Boy Foxtrot” milked every lyric for sexual innuendo – and sent the unsuspecting audience into fits of laughter. Although Ebersole is an effortless and exuberant comedienne, her standout performances last night were three of Sondheim’s most riveting compositions: “The Ladies Who Lunch” from Company, “Send in the Clowns” from A Little Night Music, and “I’m Still Here” from Follies. Ebersole owned each iconic song of female survival as if she were originating it.

Few performers have the range to perform the gritty and cynical Joanne, the contemplative Desiree, and the staunch Carlotta – particularly within the span of a single concert. Yet it is precisely this range that captivated me when I first saw Ebersole in Grey Gardens. Her Edie Bouvier vocally intertwined the weight of old age with a lingering youthful naivete; a mournful flatness of tone would warm into a soaring and rich vibrato, nostalgic for her glory days. Ebersole’s performances last night were similarly nuanced, with her invigoratingly direct rendition of “I’m Still Here” even winning a standing ovation from many audience members. If only Ebersole had performed “Losing My Mind” from Follies or “Not a Day Goes By” from Merrily We Roll Along …

Music director Tedd Firth deserves special notice for not only his stunning piano performance of such challenging scores, but for his remarkable skills as a collaborative accompanist. When Ebersole rhythmically faltered throughout “Sorry-Grateful,” Firth seamlessly adapted the underscoring to fit her singing. (For the record: Ebersole may have been off beat in this song from Company, but she infused “Sorry-Grateful” with a poignant lyricism that many performances sorely lack.)

In a brief interlude, Michael Kerker engaged Ebersole and Mitchell in a little conversation beginning with the question: “What gift has Sondheim given to performers?” Ebersole’s response was poetic and precise: Sondheim has given both performers and audiences “the gift of gray.” His songs are multifaceted, embracing all the complications and contradictions of humanity. Mitchell agreed that Sondheim writes such rewarding and psychologically complex roles; he uniquely inhabits his characters while composing.

The truth is, Sondheim inhabits his characters – and his characters inhabit us. Although neither Christine Ebersole nor Brian Stokes Mitchell had performed most of these songs for an audience before, Mitchell expressed a sense that the songs were in their bones and in their blood – as they are in the audiences’. I heard more than a few fans singing along (under their breath) with the glorious performances on stage. By the end of the evening, the initial disappointment of Stephen Sondheim’s inability to appear “live” had given way to a passionate (re)engagement with his creative work. Although Sondheim (“the voice of God”) phoned in from NYC to apologize for missing the concert, there was no apology necessary. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime gift.

The Bedroom Window: Odyssey Theatre, 9/2/10

When Stephen Sondheim presented his first musical to mentor Oscar Hammerstein II for an honest critique, Hammerstein responded that By George was the worst show he had ever read. “I didn’t say it wasn’t talented. It was terrible, and if you want to know why it’s terrible I’ll tell you.” Hammerstein then spent the afternoon dissecting the show – and Sondheim says, at the risk of hyperbole, that he learned more about songwriting that afternoon than most people learn in a lifetime.

The emerging musical theater writers of The Bedroom Window – Daniel Mahler (book), Nanea Miyata (music, lyrics, and book), and Brittany Morrison (book and lyrics) – are not the next Stephen Sondheim, nor is their musical terrible. But the comparison is apt: The Bedroom Window is a talented piece of work begging for the right mentor to come along and whip it into shape. This new musical for urban 20-somethings showcases young, enthusiastic, and promising talent – from the writers to the actors, designers, and director – but needs significant restructuring in order to fulfill its potential.

Fresh out of grad school, Gwen (the lovely Emily O’Brien) has just received a grant to write the next great American novel and has moved in with her stiff businessman boyfriend George (the polished and professional Keven Kaddi). As she struggles to overcome her writer’s block, though, Gwen finds herself transported far from her perfectly-planned life when her best friend Michael introduces her to an artsy bar called The Bedroom Window. There, Gwen meets a mysterious painter – Porter (Justin Mortelliti, a curious mix of Adam Pascal’s Roger from RENT with George from Sunday in the Park), who opens a door to Gwen’s passionate, artistic side that lies far beyond beyond George’s comprehension.

Honing in on Gwen’s central storyline could help cohere this musical. Unfortunately, The Bedroom Window is currently saddled with a number of extraneous characters and plotlines. The “Woman” – a quasi-narrator – pops up so infrequently as to pull the audience out of Gwen’s drama; she should either be more interactive with and purposeful to the story – or cut entirely. The ensemble likewise appears infrequently and without a defined sense of purpose; as with the narrator, a quasi-Greek chorus commentary could be effective – but only if woven throughout the entire show. (And the creative team should probably decide on either the narrator or the chorus: using both makes the drama drag.)

Additional mini-dramas surround Gwen’s brother Johnny, as well as Porter’s brother, sister, and smitten business partner Nik. These add up to an overwhelming confluence of conflicts to resolve in Act II; while it is nice to see each character developed, these conflicts often fall into soap opera cliche by their sheer number – and they should all defer to the central drama of Gwen. Michael’s secret crush on Gwen was, admittedly, a welcome and engaging complication – particularly as portrayed by the charismatic and sympathetic Jesse James Rice.

Ninea Miyata and Brittany Morrison have crafted a number of catchy tunes – but the presentational style of delivery and the obscene number of solos continually impedes the drama. Act I contains one “I am” / “I feel” song after another, from Nik’s “My Vice” to James’ “All for You” – and no character relationships are established musically until a duet about an hour into the show: Gwen and Porter’s “What Is It?”, which still does not allow the two to sing to one another. Often drawing on pop/rock structures rather than conventional musical theater form, the beginnings and endings of songs are often stilted and awkward. Miyata’s work shines when combining melodies, agglomerating experiences and connecting the characters musically – as in “The Start Again,” which I expected to be a vibrant finale. Unfortunately, this upbeat, overlapping performance deflects into a reprise of the ensemble’s more ambivalent, even depressing, “That’s How It Goes.” A restructuring of the show should include more opportunities for musically enacting the characters’ relationships – and a clear choice about the ending’s intended impact.

Despite these criticisms, The Bedroom Window does showcase a host of young LA-based talent. Elissa Weinzimmer’s direction helps to make sense of a sometimes floundering book. Haley Keim’s scenic design coupled with Krystle Smith’s lighting and Daniel Mahler’s simple, contemporary costuming is neat and clear. Kyle de Tarnowsky’s music direction is superb, and I particularly enjoyed the small band’s 90s nostalgia tribute before curtain – including selections from the Disney musical movies I grew up with, from Mary Poppins to The Little Mermaid. After all, The Bedroom Window is reaching out to my generation of theatergoers: the 20-somethings that are questioning and finding their life paths, striving to balance art and business, work and relationships.

Consider this a workshop performance, then. With some significant reworking, The Bedroom Window has the potential to draw this young demographic into the theater with a tighter, brighter show. I look forward to seeing what comes next from this gifted creative team as they continue to develop their talents.

Sondheim on Sondheim: Roundabout’s Studio 54, 6/16/10

Celebrating the composer/lyricist extraordinaire’s 80th birthday, Roundabout Theatre Company’s Sondheim on Sondheim is a smart and talented revue, featuring a remarkable cast and innovative direction by Sondheim’s frequent collaborator James Lapine. The latest in a host of Sondheim revues, Sondheim on Sondheim is a fitting tribute to both the creator and his fans, who do regard Sondheim as “God” (as suggested in the revue’s witty new song). Nonetheless, this production suffers from the same fundamental issues that I grapple with in all Sondheim revues – such as Side by Side by Sondheim, seen at the Attic Theatre in Los Angeles this past spring.

To clear the air, here are a few of my common gripes with Sondheim revues:

• Revues recontextualize a song – sometimes offering a bit of the musical’s background, sometimes making autobiographical connections, sometimes explicitly reconfiguring meaning. Since Sondheim’s musical numbers are so character- and show-specific, a revue presents undeniable challenges. Most songs in Sondheim on Sondheim are performed with a nod toward their original musical context – and an audience of devoted fans will have no difficulty locating the selections in Sondheim’s oeuvre. Still, Tom Wopat strains and struggles with Sweeney Todd; not only is Wopat vocally the production’s weak link. but Sweeney’s terrifying, dissonant “Epiphany” is probably one of the most context-specific and character-driven songs Sondheim has ever written.  Without a dramatic build to “Epiphany,” the performance is simply awkward. The most successful moments in Sondheim on Sondheim are extended musical sequences from the 1981 flop Merrily We Roll Along: “Franklin Shepard, Inc.” and “Opening Doors.”  Drawn from the most explicitly autobiographical of Sondheim’s musicals, these selections are more easily extractable – outstanding mini-productions from an underperformed work.
• Sondheim fans grow to an obsessive knowledge of original arrangements – so much so that new arrangements often surprise, for better and worse. David Loud’s arrangements are largely enjoyable – but make some unnecessary rhythmic alterations that throw off my mental expectations.  Sondheim composes so precisely for the performer, why change too much?  One unexpected and delightful new arrangement, however, is the counterpoint of Barbara Cook’s “Losing My Mind” from Follies to Vanessa Williams’ “Not a Day Goes By” from Merrily We Roll Along.  While the counterpoint requires some melodic adjustments, the overlay of these songs draws attention to a theme in Sondheim’s works: obsession with someone who is just out of reach.
• Sondheim revues tend to recycle the same stories: the one about Sondheim writing two songs for the opening of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum before Jerome Robbins’ intervention inspired “Comedy Tonight” – or the one about “Being Alive” (Company) as a replacement for Sondheim’s first two versions, which were far too ironic and depressing.  (Third time’s a charm, apparently!) Here, we face an interesting paradox: Sondheim revues are created not for random theatergoers, but for avid Sondheim devotees who already know the musicals and the backstage drama. I suppose some people don’t mind repetition of these stories, but they grow tiresome for me.

Despite these inherent challenges, Sondheim on Sondheim exceeds its standard revue trappings to truly impress:

• When the show does get autobiographical, the stories are refreshingly told by Stephen Sondheim himself.  On a sleek set of puzzle-like, “putting it together” flatscreen televisions (designed by Beowulf Boritt with video and projections by Peter Flaherty), video interviews with Sondheim provide the connective tissue for the revue. Even the old, familiar tales are reinvigorated when told firsthand. Lapine’s direction effects a playful interaction between Sondheim on screen and the performers on stage – sometimes interrupting songs with more background information and even humorously cutting off “I’ll Meet You at the Donut,” a song from his 1946 high school musical By George.
• The television monitors occasionally fragment and disperse to illuminate the orchestra behind – which is small but mighty, providing beautiful underscoring to video interviews before sweeping into support for the live performances onstage.
• The cast is unbelievable: Barbara Cook may be the big headliner for Sondheim aficionados and Vanessa Williams the draw for celebrity-searchers, but Leslie Kritzer, Norm Lewis, Erin Mackey, Euan Morton, and Matthew Scott are all such solid and remarkable contributions to the ensemble.  (Apologies to Tom Wopat, but his talk-singing just didn’t do it for me.) Norm Lewis’ “Finishing the Hat” is stunning and veteran Barbara Cook soars in “Send in the Clowns” and “In Buddies’ Eyes.”  But surprisingly, I was most taken by the younger cast members, who may not have had as many opportunities for solos, but whose crystal-clear harmonies and blend in the ensemble stunned me. Loud’s music direction is precise, just as Sondheim would demand.
• While not taking too many liberties in recontextualization, Lapine plays with differently gendered, raced, and sexual pairings than Sondheim’s work originally calls for – which is an entertaining and welcome reimagining of a few favorites.

I wouldn’t recommend Sondheim on Sondheim to the average theatergoer, but for a Sondheim devotee, it is a lovely tribute and enjoyable concert evening.  Sondheim on Sondheim showcases witty interviews with the composer/lyricist, stunning performances from some of his long-time interpreters and new voices, as well as an excited audience of fellow fans that keeps the revue buoyant and alive.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum: Reprise, 3/26/10

(An “Objective” Review)

With a vastly condensed rehearsal period, Reprise’s revivals of classic musicals can be of a rather unpredictable quality.  Last season’s star-studded production of The Fantasticks (with Eric McCormack and Lucas Grabeel) never quite coalesced.  However, this season has presented a stunning set of popular favorites, from Carousel to their most recent A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

Reprise’s choice of more familiar musicals for this season’s program undoubtedly aids the curtailed rehearsal time. While not often included in the quintessential Sondheim canon, Forum has been repeatedly mounted on the Great White Way, as well as in regional and school theaters, since its Broadway premiere in 1962.  In fact, Sondheim claims that the show is foolproof: “It can be done by any high school class or a group of vaudevillians and the play holds up” (qtd. in Banfield 91).  He attributes the show’s success to the intricate plotting, witty dialogue, and brilliant situational comedy of his collaborators, the late Larry Gelbart and Burt Shevelove.  Yet Sondheim’s vibrant production numbers – delicious respites from the relentless farce – contribute just as significantly to Forum’s staying power. Reprise’s production, nimbly directed by David Lee, expands this comedic text to delightful, larger-than-life proportions; the gods of the theater are certainly smiling on this production.

With a cast of several Broadway veterans, Reprise’s Forum wisely exploits its potential as a vehicle for star performances.  Despite a flat voice, Ruth Williamson’s fiery Domina literally dominates the stage; her “Farewell,” which repeatedly interrupts the forthcoming action, keeps the audience rolling with each reprise.  Williamson’s active engagement with the audience – breaking the fourth wall to cast a piercing glare when someone “Boo’ed” her entrance in Act II, for instance – likewise sets off unstoppable fits of laughter.  Stuart Ambrose’s Miles Gloriosus seems a distant relative of Beauty and the Beast‘s Gaston; his pomp and pretension are enhanced by the clever Proteans, who swiftly transform from faithful soldiers to eunuchs to slaves as the scene requires.  The wide-eyed lovers Hero (Erich Bergen) and Philia (Annie Abrams) offer a flighty romantic strain in tunes like “Lovely,” later twisted into magnificent comedy when reprised by Pseudolus and Hysterium in drag.  Even in the rather minor role of the elderly Erronius, Alan Mandell lights up the stage with each trudge around the mountains in search of his long-lost children, stolen in infancy by pirates!

A history of great performances lies behind the lead role of Pseudolus, the slave who longs for freedom.  Originated by Zero Mostel and reprised by Nathan Lane in the 1996 Broadway revival, Lee Wilkof steps into the role with a dynamic, comedic force of his own.  Mediating between stage and audience, Wilkof’s quick improvisational skills propel the farce to new heights. When his pants accidentally dropped during the March 26 performance, Wilkof peppered the rest of the evening with clever quips referencing his costume malfunction; and when Hero failed to catch the marriage contract hurled to him, Wilkof exploded, “It worked in rehearsal!” Transforming the failed mechanics of the production into the very fabric of the comedy, Wilkof keeps Forum light on its feet, constantly surprising the audience with new physical gags and ad-libs.

Forum foregrounds its stellar cast and continually showcases their individual talents, particularly in Peggy Hickey’s contortionist choreography for the girls in the House of Marcus Lycus. Wonderfully cartoonish costume design coordinates with the simple unity of set: the vibrant houses of Lycus, Senex, and Erronius, slightly masking the orchestra. And although subordinated to the star performers in each song, the orchestra – with Steve Orich at the helm – kicks off Forum with a rousing Overture; this classic musical component gives the musicians a chance to shine as stars in their own right.

With a string of successes this season, Reprise seems poised for an exciting production of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying later this spring.  However, one can only hope that Reprise’s future will strike a balance between the quality production of these Broadway classics and reviving more rarely-performed musicals, its original mission.

Merrily We Roll Along: Chance Theater, 3/6/10

As I shared with my musical theater history students in a Sondheim lecture a few weeks ago, Merrily We Roll Along was one of Sondheim’s greatest Broadway flops, lasting only 16 performances after it opened in 1981.  The idea behind the show is brilliant: in a typical, cynical Sondheimian fashion, the plot moves backwards in time to reveal how the American dream has progressively crushed the soul of the “successful” composer-turned-filmmaker Franklin Shepard.  Actually staging this musical, though, is a different beast.  I was thrilled to hear that the Chance Theater would be taking on this challenging piece, which I had never seen onstage before.

Let’s begin with the inherent, almost insurmountable, challenges of Merrily.  The primary difficulty that lingers in the Chance Theater’s production is the absurd range of ages the three central actors must portray over the course of the evening.  Franklin Shepard (Jeremy Fillinger) and his faithful friends Charley Kringass (the outstanding Ryland Dodge) and Mary Flynn (the endearing Amie Bjorklund) grow almost 20 years younger over the course of the musical, from disillusioned adults in 1976 to idealistic youth in 1957.  It’s hard enough to make such a transition forwards: just imagine doing it backwards.  While I enjoyed the sleek black-and-white palette that echoed John Doyle’s 2006 revival of Company, I felt that costume changes (perhaps from more mature business wear to younger, more casual dress) could have aided this age transition, alongside a more pronounced change in physicality from the actors.

With a book by George Furth of Company fame, this show also has the inherent “Bobby” problem: a central character who is somewhat of a cipher.  In the end, we are more emotionally invested in Charley, Mary, and Franklin’s (ex)wife Beth than in Franklin himself. Jeremy Fillinger provides a serviceable Franklin Shepard Inc., but falls flat (quite literally on some notes …) in comparison to his vibrant companions.  I was astounded at the charisma, nuance, and depth Raul Esparza brought to the role of Bobby in John Doyle’s Company and would love to someday see his take on Franklin.  (Esparza played Charley at the Kennedy Center in 2002.)

There are other challenges that this production of Merrily We Roll Along very successfully tackles, however – ultimately creating an invigorating theatrical experience for the Sondheim fan. For instance, how to ensure that the audience understands the backwards motion of the plot?  Sondheim writes these transitions into the score (“How did you get to be here?  What was the moment?”), which director Oanh Nguyen appropriately stages as recurrent transitions: the actors encircle and confront Franklin in clockwise motion (and its reverse) at each step back in the story.  With a minimalist set, Christopher Scott Murillo’s simple projections of the cityscape and year quickly and effectively set each new scene.  (Have I mentioned how particularly hilarious it is to watch such an anti-LA musical in LA?  It almost adds a new cynical layer to Sondheim and Furth’s already-cynical work.)

Although Merrily We Roll Along may not be the greatest musical property, it is a fascinating composition for its connections to other Sondheim material – which this production effectively draws out.  On top of an interest in central isolated characters (Bobby, Frank, George Seurat, Sweeney Todd), Sondheim has quite the knack for trite social conversation; I am thinking particularly of Company and Sunday in the Park with George here.  The hyperstylized choreography of Kelly Todd adds another humorous layer to the forced laughter and cliched phrases that Frank and his Hollywood cronies toss about in Act I – a striking contrast to Act II, when those same words once held some humanity and meaning.  And how can you help but laugh when you hear the producer Joe demand that Franklin (i.e. Sondheim) write a more “hummable” melody – which then veers into “Some Enchanted Evening”?

Ending with the cynical optimism of “Our Time,” Merrily We Roll Along is perhaps a hard sell for the general public, but an absolute pleasure for Sondheim fanatics – and the Chance Theater offers a rewarding production.  Plus, who says you can’t reappropriate “Our Time” to embody some actual optimism about the future of musical theater?  I’m living in that idealistic, optimistic time of my life right now. Having attended the show with two talented theater friends, I left Merrily inspired to write.  “It’s our time, breathe it in: worlds to change and worlds to win. Our turn, we’re what’s new.  Me and you, pal, me and you!”

Sondheim Lecture

I am TA’ing for the first time this quarter (Theater 110, musical theater history with Gary Gardner), and I gave my first lecture today: 2 hours on Stephen Sondheim!  I’m uploading the powerpoint for my students and anyone else who may be interested in taking a glance.  The slideshow itself isn’t that exciting, but it’s informational.  (Yes, I did actually show Seth Rudetsky’s deconstruction of “A Weekend in the Country” when talking about A Little Night Music.  It was probably the highlight of the class!)

Sondheim History

I will be seeing two shows on UCLA’s campus this weekend: the MFA departmental production of Charles Mee’s Fire Island and the Act III production of Sweet Charity. Since I know many of the creative team and cast in both shows, I don’t think reviewing them on my blog would be quite fair.  Instead, I’ll give them both a nice little plug here.  I especially want to share how exciting it was to hear part of Sweet Charity‘s sitzprobe this past weekend.  They have a 20-piece orchestra – bigger than you get on Broadway nowadays.  The sound is stunning, and I know the production is sure to match!

Tickets for Fire Island, running this Tuesday through Saturday, are available at Central Ticket Office (CTO) or online: http://www.ticketmaster.com/promo/20556?camefrom=CFC_UCLA_THEATER

Tickets for Sweet Charity, running this Saturday and Sunday, are free for UCLA students/faculty/staff and only $15 otherwise; they are available at CTO or online.  I’ve been working with many of the Act III Board recently: these truly are the producers, directors, choreographers, actors, and other theatrical creatives of the future.  Support some incredible talent this weekend: http://actiii.weebly.com/

A Little Night Music: Walter Kerr Theatre, 1/8/10

I have a Sondheim addiction.  When a good production arrives on Broadway, I have a terrible tendency for repeat visits.  Take the 2006 John Doyle production of Company, for instance.  I saw it a total of 7 times on Broadway.  In my defense, I took different friends and family members each time and always purchased cheap student rush seats, but 7 times nonetheless.  I also saw the beautiful Menier Chocolate Factory production of Sunday in the Park with George 4 times total: 3 times in London during summer 2007, and once more after it transferred to Broadway in 2008.  Perhaps because I have a fairly strong music background, I find Sondheim’s music endlessly fascinating.  (I think critics are finally moving beyond their initial claims that Sondheim is not “hummable” and is too “intellectual” a composer; there is both an emotional and intellectual depth to his music.)  I am a very detail-oriented person.  I like teasing apart the score, the performances, the design, etc.  You perceive a show quite differently through repeat visits, and Sondheim’s complexity lends itself to such repetition.

When I decided to make this last-minute weekend trip to catch Ragtime before it closed on Broadway, then, I knew that I would make an investment in the newest Sondheim revival on Broadway: Trevor Nunn’s production of A Little Night Music.  Little did I realize that the “cheap” balcony tickets would already be sold out, so I would be forced to make a bit more of an investment than a grad student can really afford.  This show marks the first time that I have ever spent above $100 on a ticket.  But it was a Sondheim starring Catherine Zeta Jones and Angela Lansbury, as well as fellow Duke grad Aaron Lazar.  Worth it?

Well … perhaps.  Angela Lansbury is always a delight onstage; although her role as Madame Armfeldt is rather minor, she has impeccable comedic timing.  In her Broadway debut, Catherine Zeta Jones exudes a remarkable, grounded confidence and stage presence that – for me at least – exceeds her “star presence.”  I am sure not all audience members were able to shake off the doubleness of “Catherine Zeta Jones as Desiree Armfeldt,” but she slipped into the role rather seamlessly for me – and I gained a newfound appreciation for “Send in the Clowns,” which I had always thought to be boring from my beginner’s piano books.  (They reduced all the harmonic complexities and took out the lyrics!)  I was especially proud of fellow Duke grad Aaron Lazar as Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm; he displays such a command of Sondheim’s lyrical wordplay in “In Praise of Women,” making thoughtful transitions between lyrics that may otherwise seem disjunct and choppy.  (She wouldn’t … therefore they didn’t … so then it wasn’t … not unless it … would she?)

The rest of the cast sufficed.  Ramona Mallory was more a caricature of Anne than I would have liked: exaggeratedly childish and annoying, with rather jerky and awkward transitions.  But the biggest drawback of this production for me was the orchestration. I ran across a fascinating article in the NY Times about recent Sondheim productions, reimagined as minimalist, chamber works with pared-down orchestration: “Sondheim Makes His Entrance Again, Intimately.”  I have seen most of these recent, pared-down productions: John Doyle’s reconceptualizations of Sweeney Todd and Company with actor-musicians, as well as the Menier Chocolate Factory’s Sunday in the Park with George.  John Doyle’s concept had a distinct purpose for paring down the orchestra; the actor-musicians’ attachment to their instruments became a meaning-making device.  In Company, the perpetual bachelor Bobby was excluded from his group of married friends by his lack of an paired instrument.  In Sweeney Todd, the demon barber’s tale was amplified in horror by reducing the lush orchestral texture to reveal more disturbing dissonances, originally hidden in a larger orchestration.  Sunday in the Park with George felt like an intimate lens on George as an artist due to the innovative video technology that drew the audience into his creative mind, alongside the tight, pared-down orchestrations and articulate performance by Daniel Evans.  Pared-down orchestration offered a personal, intimate connection to a central character in each of these shows.

Yet A Little Night Music is a sweeping waltz of multiple characters that now lacks its lush, luxurious musical force.  The “re-scandalized” waltz of desire is arguably the driving force of this musical.  Pared down to 8 instruments, the revival lacks this whirling, coupling and de-coupling dramatic push.  Crescendos are no longer natural swells from a large orchestra, but from electronic amplification of an already sparse sound.

A Little Night Music was worth seeing on Broadway; its stars are exceptional and, thankfully, draw in a crowd as much for their legitimate talents as for their movie star qualities.  However, I don’t think A Little Night Music would bear a repeat visit.  More accurately and tragically, I couldn’t afford a repeat visit unless I lived in NYC and took a risk on the limited number of available student rush seats.  More thoughts on Broadway economics to come …