For Sondheim Fans

Are you interested in the new Lapine book and certain you'll never read it? I've tried to assemble the juiciest bits here.

Who was the patron saint of "Sunday in the Park with George"? Easy. It was Bernadette Peters. No one has anything cross to say about Bernadette. She seems to have been a Textbook Definition of Professional Conduct, start to finish. Mandy was besotted. Critics were besotted. When the show won the Pulitzer, Bernadette turned up at the stage door to kiss James Lapine (even though Bernadette had left the production by this point).

Who was the biggest diva? Mandy Patinkin. The Times mentions that Patinkin was so insufferable, stagehands wanted to drop a bag of sand on his head. Noted, but how about this? Patinkin claims that "Lesson No. 8" is a stunning achievement, more stunning than "Finishing the Hat." Who believes this? Only Mandy Patinkin. Irritating.

What do we learn about Sondheim? SS smokes pot. He wanted to leave the theater after "Merrily," not because of the failure, but because critics were so mean about the failure. ("People were so bugged by my success. They wanted me to fail. Who wants to be in a business like that?")

During Sondheim's tantrum, his agent took him to a meal. She gave him tough love. "If you Make a Statement by Dropping Out.....do you know who will care? Just two people. You yourself--and your agent." This makes me think of Ruth Reichl. "Writers can be so pretentious and self-important, it's good for them to see their words on newsprint. That's because--within twelve hours--that same newspaper will be wrapped around someone's fish-fry."

To Sondheim's credit, he ditched the tantrum.

(Obviously, I loved Lapine's book, though I wish I could have heard from Annaleigh Ashford....)

Comments

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...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog