Skip to main content

William Finn: "Falsettos"

 One of Sondheim's main ideas was that musicals can be about grownups. Musicals can express grownup emotions. His fellow Williams alum, Bill Finn, agreed; like Sondheim, Finn built many songs on sex and ambivalence.


I don't look for trouble.
I do not accept blame.
I've a good and a bad side--
But they're one and the same.
Ask me to arouse you--
I will rise and obey.
These are the games I play.

Whizzer in "Falsettos" is comfortable being a fuckboy -- even his name, "Whizzer," seems to be a sign of immaturity. Having become involved with a semi-married man, Whizzer finds that he must wrestle with adult moments of sadness. He is irritated by this -- but he clearly isn't stupid.

It's tough with love.
Love's tough to show.
Let me face the music--
It's a song that I was waiting to hear so long--
So long ago.

Although a part of Whizzer would like to continue just masturbating and playing canasta, another part is interested in being half of a functional relationship.

Finn continuously plays with the idea of games -- pickleball, baseball, canasta, betting at the tracks. Even if we try to be forthright, we are likely playacting in some ways. Whizzer can't decide on a next move, but at least he can name and describe his own indecisiveness.

I bet on the horses--
I die by degree--
I'm sure his divorce is...
A tribute to me.
Ask me if I love him.
It depends on the day.
These are the games I play.

There is one more game --" family charades" -- tucked into this set of elegant lyrics. The lines seem so idiosyncratic and bizarre; at the same time, I think they are the result of careful planning.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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...
3 comments
Read more

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...
1 comment
Read more

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...
1 comment
Read more