Sondheim: "Merrily We Roll Along"

If there is one substantial flaw in "Merrily We Roll Along," it's the failure to look closely at the character of Frank, Jr. Yes, Jr. is approximately six years old in his final scene--but six-year-olds have wild and colorful interior lives. Ask Beverly Cleary. Since we don't get to know Frank, Jr., we have to do our own work to imagine what it's like to experience Junior's absence (year after year after year). I blame George Furth.

The omission is important, because a big part of Mary's final meltdown has to do with Frank, Jr. In a sharp exchange, Mary "casually" mentions that Junior has thanked her for attending "the big high-school graduation." When Frank, Sr., peevishly observes that he wasn't invited, Mary has the right response: "Neither was I." She doesn't have to say anything more.

This particular moment is the "apex" moment: It's the height of Senior's monstrosity. The entire show is an effort to explain how Frank, Sr., makes it from the happy "Sputnik night" to the painful discussion of Junior's high-school graduation. People who complain that the show is low-stakes--or even that Mary is over-the-top--have failed to pay close attention to the "graduation dialogue."

Other thoughts....

Watching "Merrily" last night, I was delighted by Charlie's evolution as a writer. This is not the main point of the show--but Sondheim is so attentive to detail, you could think *just* about Charlie's writing, and you'd still have a satisfying experience. When Charlie is still struggling to find his voice, he writes clever and slightly shallow pastiche numbers. For example:

Who wants to live in New York?

Who wants the worry, the noise, the dirt, the heat?

Who wants the garbage cans clanging in the street?

(Well, ever since I met you.....)

Additionally:

Goodbye, then, to Ike and the brass...

To years that were cozy but crass...

It's true Ike was icky...
But better him than Dicky!

Now meet the First Family with class....en masse....

Later, having lived, having studied the painful relationship between Mary and Frank, Charlie discovers his own point of view. He has thoughtful, original remarks about ambivalence:

And if I wanted too much

Was that such a mistake--

At the time?

You never wanted enough.

All right, tough.

I don't make that a crime....

Other writers would just mention Charlie's work--or would hastily try to half-sketch a career for Charlie. But Sondheim makes you *believe* in Charlie's career. He can show you Charlie's evolution. He has really envisioned that evolution--and it's fully plausible. (After "Musical Husbands," Frank, Sr., dries up like Richard Rodgers. No more worthwhile material to quote from. I suspect that this is because Senior has walled himself off from emotional entanglements? If you're closed off, do you really have memorable music left to compose?)

One other note about the film in theaters this weekend. It's hard to watch and *not* conclude that Lindsay Mendez deserved a second Tony Award. Is it really possible that someone gave a better performance in that year? Was Mendez's pregnancy--and her related wavering attendance record--a factor in the Tony voting? I guess we'll never really know.

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...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog