Skip to main content

For Sondheim Nerds

Sondheim nerds, I have to say a few things about the opening of "Mirror, Mirror":

Who's that woman? I know her well,All decked out head to toe.She lives life like a carousel:Beau after beau after beau.Nightly, daily,Always laughing gaily,Seems I see her everywhere I go.Oh--Who's that woman?I know I know that woman,So clever, but ever so sad.Love, she said, was a fad.The kind of love that she couldn't make fun ofShe'd have none of.Who's that woman.That cheery, weary womanWho's dressing for yet one more spree?Each day I see her passIn my looking-glass--Lord, Lord, Lord, that woman is me!

The song is about having insight into one's flawed condition--without having the will to change that condition. It's like a sequel to "The Ladies who Lunch," where Elaine Stritch seems to *understand* that she is an embittered, drunken jokester, while also wishing not to change her reality.

Do you notice that the opening of "Mirror, Mirror" is a three-act play? Act One: A woman appears, and she is laughing gaily, having a grand time. Act Two: We realize there's a sad undercurrent in this woman's life. Though she has a veneer of cheeriness, she actually pushes people away by being relentlessly superficial. ("The kind of love that she couldn't make fun of-- she'd have none of.") Act Three: Pondering this woman, the speaker has a shock. "Actually, I'm talking about myself! The things I find pitiable or objectionable in others? Those are things I find in myself!"

So smart. And a few brilliant details. "Beau after beau after beau" actually reproduces the sensation of watching a carousel. The stressed syllables--"beau, beau, beau"--seem to replicate the moment in the rotation where the carousel horse pops up. The unstressed syllables--"after, after, after"--replicate the moment when the horse is down close to the floor. And at the end of the verse, three consecutive stressed syllables--"Lord! Lord! Lord!"--indicate that we've reached our climax. And the line "on reflection, she'd agree" -- has a double meaning. The character is "reflecting" on her problem. But--also--she is "reflected." She is shown *to herself* -- via the mirror.

Genius!

OK. That's all. Thank you for bearing with me!
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more