Skip to main content

My Favorite Broadway Finale

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yB5hafiKjtA



The 1990s gave birth to the American "true crime" musical. Strange, strange musicals that made song-and-dance occasions of appalling events from U.S. history.


"Titanic" had the venal financier Ismay trying to blame others for his own unethical decisions. (Blaming in rhythm with an orchestral accompaniment!)

"Parade" grafted syrupy ballads onto a horrifying story of a miscarriage of justice--an antisemitic lynching in the South.

"Ragtime" showed the robber baron J.P. Morgan flaunting his wealth while others suffered.

By contrast, "Floyd Collins" staged an event that may not have been technically criminal--but still registered as "spiritually" criminal. This was the Deathwatch Carnival. It actually happened in American history. A man, Floyd Collins, was trapped in a cave and slowly dying; Americans made a social event of this interlude. People came from far and wide to enjoy a picnic within a few yards of the unfolding tragedy. Why not turn this moment into a musical? (America just recently observed the anniversary of Floyd Collins's death.)

I recognize that Adam Guettel's work is flawed. "Floyd Collins" feels somewhat static--since the hero is literally trapped in a cave for the entirety of the show. "The Light in the Piazza" is intermittently tedious, and sometimes the writing seems vague and a bit too "celestial."

But I like Adam Guettel's "lost souls." I like that his heroes ask questions and struggle (and fail) to find answers.

Guettel grew up in the company of Stephen Sondheim; I'm certain he took a lesson from "Losing My Mind," which ends with a question. Notice all the questions in Guettel's work:

So when?
When was this day?
Was it in the churchyard?
Suddenly you're out of love?
Were you lying next to me,
Hiding what you couldn't say?

Additionally, "Floyd Collins" has one of the great endings in the history of musical theater, a hair-raising soliloquy in which the hero tries to envision the afterlife.

Do we live?
Is it like a little town?
Do we get to look back down at who we love?
Are we above?
Are we everywhere?
Are we anywhere at all?
Do we hear a trumpet call us--and we're by Your side?

Guettel doesn't shy away from questions about faith; his characters pray. A woman--struggling with her upcoming abortion--reminds herself of words from childhood.

Come to Jesus just now.
Just now--come to Jesus.
He will save you.
He'll receive you.
Flee to Jesus.
Call unto Him.....

I'm so excited for the upcoming "Floyd Collins" revival; whether or not it works, it will be an admirable risk. I'm delighted it's happening.


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...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...