Jonathan Larson: "Rent"

One gift that Sondheim left behind was: an invitation to see canonical works in a new way.

It seems that Sondheim continuously fought against popular wisdom. Hammerstein's great achievement was not "Some Enchanted Evening," but "What's the Use of Won'drin." Lorenz Hart was iffy, but DuBose Heyward wrote like a god. Ira Gershwin tried too hard. "Tonight," from "West Side Story," is an example of "purple writing."

Leave it to Sondheim to view "Rent" in an unusual way. Sondheim didn't have much praise for the big, buzzy numbers, but he was fond of Jonathan Larson's quiet, little song, "Santa Fe."

Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe.

Sunny Santa Fe would be nice....

We'll open a restaurant in Santa Fe--

And leave this to the roaches and mice.

Larson's fictional bohemian brainiac Tom Collins addresses his new love, and he (Collins) gets swept up in a daydream:

You're a sensitive aesthete...

Brush the sauce onto the meat!

You could make the menu sparkle with rhyme....

You could drum a gentle drum...

And I could seat guests as they come....

Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine....

I can see what Sondheim saw. "Santa Fe" is not bombastic or preachy. It's showing, not telling. The characters are really expressing their love for New York City--even as (ostensibly) they fantasize about an easier, sunnier life. Which New Yorker, in reality, hasn't done this, now and then?

Larson's relaxed, lively writing also advances a love story: We can see Collins "discovering" Angel, even as he unspools his "Santa Fe" restaurant narrative.

I'm so grateful that Sondheim re-directed my attention. You can now see a major "Rent" star--Brandon Victor Dixon--on PBS. His concert--featuring Larson's "I'll Cover You"--will stream throughout most of February.

https://www.pbs.org/video/brandon-victor-dixon-s50zfg/

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