William Finn, 1952-2025

Sondheim had an influence on William Finn; you see it in the "patter" interludes and the sudden tonal shifts. And William Finn had an influence on many other writers. He put HIV on the musical stage long before "Rent." He musicalized the end of a marriage long before "Next to Normal." He wrote about the economy and about greed--before "In the Heights," before "Hamilton."

"Unlikely Lovers" is a short story in the form of a quartet. One character--Whizzer--says that he wants to die alone; he doesn't want sentimental lies or consolation. His friends want to read from "Chicken Soup for the Soul." A truce is reached: The four will just talk about nothing. ("Sky! It's blue! I love the sky! I love the trees!")

The truth of this situation bubbles up. It's an extraordinary chorus.

What a group we four are--

Four unlikely lovers.

And we vow that we will

Buy the farm--

Arm in arm--

Four unlikely lovers with heart.

Let's be scared together.

Let's pretend that nothing is awful.

Finn knows what makes people tick; also, his work is a celebration of "voice." There is a mix of saltiness and gooeyness that becomes his signature. You see it in one particular rhyme: "to buy the farm...arm in arm..."

What a loss for the literary world!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OGNf3OuGhk&list=RD5OGNf3OuGhk&start_radio=1

Comments

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