"Guys and Dolls" has some Song-of-the-Century moments. "Luck, Be A Lady," recycled by a million commercials and lounge singers. "If I Were a Bell," which became the title of the best episode of "Transparent." "Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat," an eleven o'clock number that has almost nothing to do with the plot of the musical, but it's still great.
These moments are so iconic, they make it easy to overlook the craftsmanship in some of the quieter songs.
Sky can't quite give himself to Sarah, at first; he thinks she is silly. He dismisses her sense of rigidity; "You have dreamt yourself a Scarsdale Galahad...the breakfast-eating, Brooks Brothers type." (Maybe it says more about Sky than about Sarah that Sky would think "breakfast-eating" is a sign of hopeless rigidity.)
But Sky does start to melt and to "offer himself" to Sarah, and it's not just through dancing and hammy declarations of love. One of my favorite moments in "Guys and Dolls" is when Sky describes his preferred time of day. The song is called, aptly, "My Time of Day." It does several things at once. First, it highlights Sky's oddness: Of course an eccentric gangster would identify 4 AM, in New York City, as an ideal time. Second, it takes an imaginative leap. It asks, What could anyone love about 4 AM? And then it answers the question: "The smell of the rainwashed pavement comes up clean, and fresh, and cold....and the streetlamp light fills the gutter with gold...." That's poetic without a sense of trying-too-hard. We are forced to think of NYC in a new light; we share Sky's sense of wonder.
Third, this song captures something true about human behavior. When you're discovering you are in love with someone, you might find yourself compelled to explain something you feel passionate about. Show and tell. Sky surprises himself; he describes New York at 4 AM, then turns to Sarah, and with a sense of stupefaction, says, "That's my time of day....and you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me." Sky has learned something here; we have caught him in the act of discovery.
Two other moments I love in this show.
When Sarah is pondering marriage, her father, Abernathy, considers what he wants for her. The song, "More I Cannot Wish You," is a list song. It builds and builds. Abernathy is not a fancy man, but he can wish fanciness for his daughter: "Velvet I can wish ya...for the collar of your coat...Mansions I can wish ya...Seven footmen all in red...." But of course the list becomes more abstract. "Music I can wish ya....And wisdom when your hair has turned to gray." But, more important than music and wisdom, love is the climax: "With a sheep's eye...and a lickerish tooth...and a-strong arms to carry you away." (It doesn't matter that we don't know what a sheep's eye is. Loesser's use of dialect is killer. He knows the local color will send us into another world; it's almost *best* that we don't quite know what Abernathy is referring to, in his details.)
Then, the final song I love: "Sue Me." Again, Loesser is making profound observations about human behavior, and he is doing it in the form of lyrics. Adelaide is exasperated with Nathan because she loves him so much: She cannot stop talking because she wants so desperately for him to be a better person. "When you wind up in jail, don't come to me to bail you out.....You give me a kiss and you're grabbing your hat and you're off to the races again...." With great wit, Loesser has Nathan seem almost silent, in contrast to Adelaide's jabbering. "Sue me. Sue me. Go ahead, sue me. All right, already: It's true. So call a policeman. I love you."
In other words, Nathan says: "I am who I am. Keep trying to change me. Hate me. Go ahead! Hate me. This deeply flawed person loves you."
Beyond the wisdom and humor of this song, there's the use of dialect: "So nu," says Nathan. "All right, already: I'm just a no-good-nik..." This is the work of someone who simply loves words, in all their variegated colors; Loesser makes us love words, as well.
No one is reviving "Guys and Dolls," as far as I know. These thoughts just came to me--as I continue to feel gratitude for "Baby, It's Cold Outside." I only wish Loesser had written more before he died.
These moments are so iconic, they make it easy to overlook the craftsmanship in some of the quieter songs.
Sky can't quite give himself to Sarah, at first; he thinks she is silly. He dismisses her sense of rigidity; "You have dreamt yourself a Scarsdale Galahad...the breakfast-eating, Brooks Brothers type." (Maybe it says more about Sky than about Sarah that Sky would think "breakfast-eating" is a sign of hopeless rigidity.)
But Sky does start to melt and to "offer himself" to Sarah, and it's not just through dancing and hammy declarations of love. One of my favorite moments in "Guys and Dolls" is when Sky describes his preferred time of day. The song is called, aptly, "My Time of Day." It does several things at once. First, it highlights Sky's oddness: Of course an eccentric gangster would identify 4 AM, in New York City, as an ideal time. Second, it takes an imaginative leap. It asks, What could anyone love about 4 AM? And then it answers the question: "The smell of the rainwashed pavement comes up clean, and fresh, and cold....and the streetlamp light fills the gutter with gold...." That's poetic without a sense of trying-too-hard. We are forced to think of NYC in a new light; we share Sky's sense of wonder.
Third, this song captures something true about human behavior. When you're discovering you are in love with someone, you might find yourself compelled to explain something you feel passionate about. Show and tell. Sky surprises himself; he describes New York at 4 AM, then turns to Sarah, and with a sense of stupefaction, says, "That's my time of day....and you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me." Sky has learned something here; we have caught him in the act of discovery.
Two other moments I love in this show.
When Sarah is pondering marriage, her father, Abernathy, considers what he wants for her. The song, "More I Cannot Wish You," is a list song. It builds and builds. Abernathy is not a fancy man, but he can wish fanciness for his daughter: "Velvet I can wish ya...for the collar of your coat...Mansions I can wish ya...Seven footmen all in red...." But of course the list becomes more abstract. "Music I can wish ya....And wisdom when your hair has turned to gray." But, more important than music and wisdom, love is the climax: "With a sheep's eye...and a lickerish tooth...and a-strong arms to carry you away." (It doesn't matter that we don't know what a sheep's eye is. Loesser's use of dialect is killer. He knows the local color will send us into another world; it's almost *best* that we don't quite know what Abernathy is referring to, in his details.)
Then, the final song I love: "Sue Me." Again, Loesser is making profound observations about human behavior, and he is doing it in the form of lyrics. Adelaide is exasperated with Nathan because she loves him so much: She cannot stop talking because she wants so desperately for him to be a better person. "When you wind up in jail, don't come to me to bail you out.....You give me a kiss and you're grabbing your hat and you're off to the races again...." With great wit, Loesser has Nathan seem almost silent, in contrast to Adelaide's jabbering. "Sue me. Sue me. Go ahead, sue me. All right, already: It's true. So call a policeman. I love you."
In other words, Nathan says: "I am who I am. Keep trying to change me. Hate me. Go ahead! Hate me. This deeply flawed person loves you."
Beyond the wisdom and humor of this song, there's the use of dialect: "So nu," says Nathan. "All right, already: I'm just a no-good-nik..." This is the work of someone who simply loves words, in all their variegated colors; Loesser makes us love words, as well.
No one is reviving "Guys and Dolls," as far as I know. These thoughts just came to me--as I continue to feel gratitude for "Baby, It's Cold Outside." I only wish Loesser had written more before he died.
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