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Weird Broadway

This is a man who thinks with his heart,
His heart is not always wise.
This is a man who stumbles and falls,
But this is a man who tries.

This is a man you'll forgive and forgive,
And help protect, as long as you live...
He will not always say
What you would have him say,
But now and then he'll do
Something
Wonderful.

He has a thousand dreams
That won't come true,
You know that he believes in them
And that's enough for you.

You'll always go along,
Defend him where he's wrong
And tell him, when he's strong
He is
Wonderful
He'll always
Needs your love
And so he'll get your love.
A man who needs your love
Can be
Wonderful.




I’ve noted before that Hammerstein pioneered the “If I Loved You” song. This was a way to sneak a love song into the First Act. Of course the lovers wouldn’t really unite until the final moments; they had to hate each other first, for quite a while, or you wouldn’t have a story. But it sucks to have to wait till 11 PM for your big love song. So Hammerstein would have the lover-antagonists meet early in the show, imagine how life would be IF they loved each other, then start arguing again. So: “Make Believe,” in “Showboat.” “People Will Say We’re in Love,” in “Oklahoma.” “Some Enchanted Evening,” in “South Pacific.” And the gold standard for “If I Loved You” songs: “If I Loved You,” from “Carousel.”

Hammerstein had another favored device. I’ll call it “The Apologist’s Love Song.” There’s a main thrust behind this song: “Men are shitty, but they’re what God gave us, so learn to make do!” “Showboat” has not one, but two, of these songs. Bill can’t play golf or tennis or polo; he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim; it’s even debatable whether he has a functioning brain. But he is Julie’s Bill! And the chimney’s smoking; the roof is leaking in? Does Mister Man seem to care? To use  Jerome Kern’s colloquialism: He don’t. So: There ain’t no reason why I should love dat man. But: It must be somethin’ dat de angels done planned.

“Carousel” has a noteworthy Apologist’s Love Song, or APL. That’s “What’s the Use of Wondrin’?” Thus: “Common sense will tell you the ending will be sad, and now’s the time to break and run away.” But: “When he wants your kisses, you’ll go runnin’ there like mad. He’s yer fella, and you love him. And all the rest is talk.” (Maybe the flashiest APL is *not* from Hammerstein terrain; it’s Nancy in “Oliver,” promising, “I’m tied right by his side!” Of course Nancy ends up more or less beheaded, in a gutter. Look alive out there!)

“Something Wonderful,” the last of my APLs for today, holds a special place in the R and H canon. It’s Carly Simon’s favorite R and H song. It’s maybe everyone’s favorite R and H song. It hums with conflict--between Lady Thiang and her doofus husband, and between Lady Thiang and Lady Thiang. “He may not always say what you would have him say, but now and then he’ll say something wonderful.” Is that consolation enough? For Lady Thiang, it seems to be. But: Is she really trying to persuade *herself* with these words, more than she’s trying to persuade Anna? Watch the great performance below, and decide on your own. The actress has painful self-doubt plastered all over her face, and it’s riveting. (Think of Lorrie Moore, who, like Hammerstein, often has deeply flawed humans fighting to persuade themselves that their unsatisfactory arrangements are in fact satisfactory. “O say does that star spangled banner yet wave o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave. She always seemed to sing this sentence as if it ended with a question mark.")

There’s grumbling in the Broadway world about “Carousel.” Georgia Stitt maybe doesn’t want it produced. She would like her daughter to have access to more portraits of unequivocally strong women. To that, I say: Refer to Julianne Moore. Ms. Moore famously dismissed the apparent imperative to take on “depictions of strong women.” “I don’t really believe most people are strong,” she said. “I believe we tend to be weak, conflicted, and irrational. Those are the characters I’m drawn to, and the characters I’ll continue to play.” Her daughter later complained: “In your movies, Mom, you always seem to be divorcing or dying.” (In “Still Alice,” Ms. Moore seems to do both! And that’s how you get an Oscar.)

Art is not meant to be a civics lesson. It is not meant to be a morale booster. It is meant to capture the truth. Hammerstein never told us he was presenting us with role models; instead, he gave us complicated human beings. And so I’ll defend his right to the APL--now and forever. These songs are haunting--as good writing should be. They raise questions; they don’t give us answers. And so I’ll always prefer them to another anthem that will soon make its debut on Broadway--Disney’s “Let It Go.”

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