Skip to main content

Stephen Sondheim

 There is a strange trend on Facebook where people post fulsome, cliched tributes to dead loved ones. You tend to feel you're reading a comforting lie. If it's not a lie, it's a half-truth. Something is omitted.


"I miss you more today than I did ten years ago.....I remember your gentle laugh....As a friend, you were The Greatest of All Time...."

Stephen Sondheim anticipated this trend. In "Follies," a woman is unhappily married and hoping to "re-team" with her boyfriend from an earlier era. She can't say this, so she tells a story in which she is buoyed by her husband's devotion. First, she lightly mocks herself (and you can tell she isn't laughing, as she pretends to laugh):

Every morning--don't faint!
I tend the flowers....
Can you believe it?
Every weekend...I PAINT!
For umpteen hours....

She says she can handle a monotonous life, because she is floating on warm currents of married love:

In Buddy's eyes....
I'm young, I'm beautiful....
In Buddy's arms....
On Buddy's shoulder....

And all I ever dreamed I'd be....
The best I ever thought of me...
Is every minute there to see....
In Buddy's eyes....

This is so brutally sad, and I'm not sure anyone had attempted it before Sondheim (anyone writing for the musical theater). People whisper about a "Follies" movie in the future; it's possibly a bad idea, but I'll be in the ticket line.

Labels:

Comments

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...
3 comments
Read more

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...
2 comments
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more