Bernadette Peters: "Old Friends"

At the height of his powers, Sondheim wrote "A Weekend in the Country," whose lyrics I once scribbled on various math assignments during my highschool years. It's an astonishing transitional number in "A Little Night Music." Desiree has invited her former flame to a party, perhaps hoping to stage an extramarital coup. The new wife--Anne--is scandalized.

It's that woman! It's that Armfeldt!

The actress! The ghoul!

She may hope to make her charm felt...

But she's mad if she thinks I would be such a fool--

As to weekend in the country....

Sondheim understands that Anne--despite her protests--secretly craves drama. Anne is unhappy in her marriage. A trainwreck might be useful. A friend persuades Anne to *accept* the invitation--and to flaunt her youthful beauty. "Wear your hair down--and a flower. Don't use makeup. Dress in white. Desiree will grow older by the hour--and be hopelessly shattered by Saturday night."

With stunning ease, Sondheim moves the chess pieces all over the board. Anne makes a remark about her husband's penis. (Being in the country is an opportunity to "watch little things grow.") In another corner of the city, a brutish husband demands that his wife join him for Desiree's party. The wife has no interest--but because the guy is an asshole, he ignores the wife's arguments. Then, amazingly, he makes a final comment: "Happy Birthday! It's your present. You haven't been getting out *nearly* enough." Finally, Sondheim shows off his eye for detail: The stationery's "engraved and very grand...." "delivered by hand..." "so chic, you hardly can read it..."

"Even the ink" is worthy of comment.

It's a delight to hear this number in the new Broadway revue. On the other hand, the title song from "Into the Woods"--which seems like a regurgitation of "A Weekend in the Country"--probably ought to be cut. Though it's heretical to say, I might also remove "Gypsy" and "West Side Story." (Sondheim didn't write the music.) I'd use the new space to insert some "Sunday" numbers ("Finishing the Hat," "Move On") and some more from "Night Music" ("Every Day a Little Death," "The Miller's Son"). And it's worth recalling that "Anyone Can Whistle"--despite its troubles--yielded a famous title song plus "There Won't Be Trumpets" plus "With So Little to Be Sure Of" plus "Everybody Says Don't." Not one of these songs makes it into the new revue.

Regarding Bernadette: I was happiest to see her as Little Red in "Into the Woods." More than other performers, Bernadette is able to (a) recall the context of the specific story she is telling and (b) find what is universal in the given scenario. We understand Little Red's dilemma: She has clear instructions from Mom, but she finds herself drawn to the sexy Wolf. Bernadette seems to poke fun at herself even as she makes the wrong decision; it's impossible not to empathize with her foolishness. And she finds a sense of wonder in the tiniest observation: "Take extra care with strangers...Even flowers have their dangers!"

I can't comment on Lea Salonga, because she was out sick. I wonder, did Taylor Swift ever find herself so ill that she "couldn't perform" during the Eras tour? I won't go any further. Clearly, I don't know what I'm talking about. It does seem disingenuous for the producers to say, "You can always reschedule." If your plans involve sitter coverage and interstate travel, the sentence rings hollow. (Perhaps Sondheim, a wealthy bachelor, didn't always think about suburban parents.)

Clearly, I had a great time.

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...

The Death of Bergoglio

It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

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...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog