Skip to main content

Stephen Sondheim

 A favorite subject of Sondheim's was unrequited love; we see it in Mary ("Merrily We Roll Along"), Lovett, Sally Durant, Fosca, John Hinckley, Jr.


A standout in this canon is Charlotte, who is possibly both the wisest and the dumbest character in "A Little Night Music." She has married a straying brute, and despite her formidable strength, she just can't stand up to this guy. She loves him.

He smiles sweetly, strokes my hair...
Says he misses me.
I would murder him right there--
But, first, I die.

He talks softly of his wars--
And his horses--and his whores...

Charlotte's "little death" is the death of pride; she is humiliated, on a regular basis. But a little death is also an orgasm; Charlotte feels an erotic charge in her spouse's company.

The song evokes thoughts of Chekhov--how the private life runs parallel to "the river of public behavior." Charlotte contrasts the superficial details of her morning with the storm that is happening under her skin:

Every day a little death...
In the parlor, in the bed...
In the curtains, in the silver...
In the buttons, in the bread...

"In the curtains--in the silver--in the buttons..." The repeated rhythm seems relentless. It gives us a clue that Charlotte is teetering on the verge of lunacy.

Here is Ruthie Ann Miles....

Comments

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...