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Patti LuPone: "Company"

 Janet Malcolm titled her last book "Nobody's Looking at You," and this could also have worked as a substitute title for Stephen Sondheim's "Company."


"Company" is about (among other things) the fact that "nobody's looking at you"; we're all staring, and staring, at ourselves, and in the fog of self-observation, moments of real connection are a miraculous thing.


A woman in her mid-thirties, Bobbie, visits a set of married friends. One has abandoned alcohol; the other isn't touching chocolate. Except that the teetotaler has a flask in one hand. And the dieting spouse keeps a set of brownies next to her chair.


Bobbie leaves and visits a former flame, who seems shy. "I always wanted to marry you," he says, "but I was afraid to ask." Bobbie believes this is a form of flirtation, so she plays along. "I wanted to marry you, too! Imagine that!" And the guy says: "Anyway, I met someone, and we're getting hitched and moving to Cape Cod. Enjoy that party you're late for."


In a great comic scene, Bobbie beds a flight attendant, then feigns disappointment when the guy has to go to work. "Where ya going?" Bobbie asks, in a rhetorical way. And the steward doesn't hesitate with his reply. "Barcelona.....Flight 18. On a Boeing."


People tend to say that a Sondheim show is like Frankenstein's Monster: The songs are extraordinary, then the dialogue is just passable. That's true in "Company," where the book scenes often feel too-clever-by-half. I felt this especially with Patti LuPone's big "Joanne" scene; hurry up and sing, I thought. (That said, even with clunky writing, LuPone was terrific.)


A major star of the show is the director, Marianne Elliott, who sometimes bathes Bobbie in strange purple light, and who invents some business with an oppressive set of balloons, shaped like the numerals "3" and "5." My favorite thing about Elliott is that she understands that Act One ends with rain. The minister at "Jamie's" wedding sings about rain, then Jamie, having permanently scarred his fiancé, murmurs about how he needs to find two umbrellas. Most productions leave the rain here, but in a thrilling twist, Elliott brings the rain into the next number: Bobbie sings her big plea, "Marry Me a Little," during a thunderstorm. This gave me goosebumps, and it's the best moment I've witnessed in a theater since the start of COVID.


As I've said before, "Company" raises questions, and it doesn't really suggest "answers." Because writing shouldn't suggest answers. Bobbie addresses the audience, while imagining a partner: "Would I know him even if I met him? Have I missed him? Did I let him go?" At war with herself, Bobbie tries (and fails) to form coherent thoughts; she says, to a lover, "Wait for me....Hurry! Wait for me! Hurry....."


I keep thinking about this several days later, which is a nice gift that smart writing can confer. If you wade through some pedestrian shows, you find "Company," once every few years.

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