What you may not know about Sondheim is that, in the sixties, he wrote a "TV musical" called "Evening Primrose." I haven't seen it. Here's what I know: The star was the handsome closeted guy who played Norman in "Psycho," Anthony Perkins. The show involved a mannequin who wanted to experience the world, or something like this. (Sondheim says--"Keep them surprised!"--and there you have it.)
What do you get when you tell a story from the point of view of a mannequin? You get the chance to "de-familiarize." When we de-familiarize, we describe mundane things from an alien perspective, in an effort to make those things "new again." Sondheim's acolyte--Howard Ashman--famously used a "de-familiarizing" technique when he had Ariel, the Little Mermaid, dream about life on land:
Flipping your fins, you don't get too far.
LEGS are required for...jumping...dancing...
Strolling around on those....
What's the word again?
...FEEEEETTTT......
Anyway, here's Sondheim, describing life from the point of view of a mannequin:
Let me see the world with clouds
Take me to the world
Out where I can push through crowds
Take me to the world
A world that smiles
With streets instead of aisles
Where I can walk for miles with you
Take me to the world that’s real
Show me how it’s done
Teach me how to laugh, to feel
Move me to the sun
Just hold my hand whenever we arrive
Take me to a world where I can be alive
Sondheim says that he must become an actor, inhabiting a specific role, in order to write a song. And here's Sondheim, persuasively becoming a mannequin. Like "Company's" Bobby, another "mannequin" (who would appear on the scene in 1970), the speaker here is so cut off from life that nearly everything seems appealing. "The clouds." An opportunity to "push through crowds." "Streets instead of aisles." Skipping alongside the apparently pedestrian details--the clouds, the streets--there's a wish for love. "Move me to the sun," "Teach me how to laugh, to feel," "Show me how it's done": a desire to feel "connected," through romance. To have access to the world of emotions, through a human bond.
(Yes, everything here can literally apply to the experience of a mannequin, but it's obvious to me that Sondheim is also writing on a deeper level: As usual, he is describing the experience of a neurotic person, wishing to wriggle out of a shell of false-personhood, or defensiveness, and become vulnerable and "real." "Alone is alone--not alive." "Take me to a world where I can be alive.")
Another song that seems to share DNA with "Take Me to the World" is the title song from "Anyone Can Whistle." There, Sondheim uses the metaphor of an-inability-to-whistle: It stands in for over-thinking, being too deep "in one's head," sealing oneself off from the world. "It's all so simple. Relax, let go, let fly. So someone tell me why can't I?" Sondheim becomes defensive when people say he is drawing from his own life--when people say he is describing his own personal experience of cerebral chilliness. But, to Sondheim, I'd say: Come on. Methinks thou doth protest too much.
And that's all for today. Do you want a decent rendition of "Take Me to the World"? Sutton Foster--final minutes of her Lincoln Center performance from last year. You're welcome.
What do you get when you tell a story from the point of view of a mannequin? You get the chance to "de-familiarize." When we de-familiarize, we describe mundane things from an alien perspective, in an effort to make those things "new again." Sondheim's acolyte--Howard Ashman--famously used a "de-familiarizing" technique when he had Ariel, the Little Mermaid, dream about life on land:
Flipping your fins, you don't get too far.
LEGS are required for...jumping...dancing...
Strolling around on those....
What's the word again?
...FEEEEETTTT......
Anyway, here's Sondheim, describing life from the point of view of a mannequin:
Let me see the world with clouds
Take me to the world
Out where I can push through crowds
Take me to the world
A world that smiles
With streets instead of aisles
Where I can walk for miles with you
Take me to the world that’s real
Show me how it’s done
Teach me how to laugh, to feel
Move me to the sun
Just hold my hand whenever we arrive
Take me to a world where I can be alive
Sondheim says that he must become an actor, inhabiting a specific role, in order to write a song. And here's Sondheim, persuasively becoming a mannequin. Like "Company's" Bobby, another "mannequin" (who would appear on the scene in 1970), the speaker here is so cut off from life that nearly everything seems appealing. "The clouds." An opportunity to "push through crowds." "Streets instead of aisles." Skipping alongside the apparently pedestrian details--the clouds, the streets--there's a wish for love. "Move me to the sun," "Teach me how to laugh, to feel," "Show me how it's done": a desire to feel "connected," through romance. To have access to the world of emotions, through a human bond.
(Yes, everything here can literally apply to the experience of a mannequin, but it's obvious to me that Sondheim is also writing on a deeper level: As usual, he is describing the experience of a neurotic person, wishing to wriggle out of a shell of false-personhood, or defensiveness, and become vulnerable and "real." "Alone is alone--not alive." "Take me to a world where I can be alive.")
Another song that seems to share DNA with "Take Me to the World" is the title song from "Anyone Can Whistle." There, Sondheim uses the metaphor of an-inability-to-whistle: It stands in for over-thinking, being too deep "in one's head," sealing oneself off from the world. "It's all so simple. Relax, let go, let fly. So someone tell me why can't I?" Sondheim becomes defensive when people say he is drawing from his own life--when people say he is describing his own personal experience of cerebral chilliness. But, to Sondheim, I'd say: Come on. Methinks thou doth protest too much.
And that's all for today. Do you want a decent rendition of "Take Me to the World"? Sutton Foster--final minutes of her Lincoln Center performance from last year. You're welcome.
Comments
Post a Comment