Skip to main content

Patti LuPone: 2022

 Patti LuPone appeared on TV with Andy Cohen -- the appearance was recent -- and Cohen asked, "Is Being Alive the greatest Sondheim song?"


LuPone has brains, and she answered in an admirable way. "It's not really about individual songs, if it's Sondheim. Sondheim wrote for characters; because he was so invested in his characters, it's hard to take a Sondheim song out of the story it's embedded in. I think of Sondheim in terms of a full musical score. My favorites, among his scores: A Little Night Music, Pacific Overtures, Sweeney Todd."

Hard to argue with that.

But if you wanted to make a case for "Being Alive," I think you'd want to look at the bridge. Bobby has been complaining about the idea of being coupled. Marriage is giving up your chair, your sleep, your privacy. At the same time, Bobby has conflicting voices in his head: "Don't be afraid it won't be perfect. The only thing to be afraid of is that it WON'T BE." "You've got a million reasons why it won't work -- but you haven't got one good reason for being alone."

Bobby quits whining and actually *asks* for messiness. In the bridge of the song, Bobby takes a step and *defines* messiness, in a memorable way:

Make me alive.....
Make me alive.....
Make me confused....
Mock me with praise....
Let me be used.....
Vary my days.....

People fret that Sondheim is too wordy, but that bridge packs novel-sized meaning into a few short sentences. Form matches content: It really is terrifying to embrace life, and you can see the terror -- sense it in the oddness of Bobby's words. "Let me be used...." "Mock me with praise..."

All this tension builds until we reach the explosive ending: "Somebody, crowd me with love....Somebody, force me to care....Somebody, make me come through...I'll always be there....as frightened as you....to help us survive....being alive...."

It's a "Steve cliche" to refer to a song as a one-act play -- but here's the play. Someone rejects life, and rejects it, and rejects it -- then plunges in. Just within the space of a few verses. The bridge -- that tiny jump from "alive" to "confused" -- helps us to move from A to B. Two nearly-identical sentences, with a shift in adjectives. 

It's nothing to sneeze at!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eZ8Lvg3skw

Comments

  1. I've sung that piece, and saw it performed beautifully in December on Broadway - it's been visiting my dreams ever since - thanks for your thoughts on the remarkable-ness of this song! (And now, as I write this, it's back in my head again!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for saying that -- made my day! After I wrote, I found Sondheim describing the song as "a thing that starts as a complaint, then turns into a prayer." That stuck with me.

      Delete
    2. I think of it as a plea, but maybe that's the same thing... thanks for getting it back into my head again!

      Delete

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...

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...