What do you think?
Rate this book


453 pages, Hardcover
First published November 22, 2011
--
There’s a dream to be won,(Note how this both anticipates and undermines the naivete of Merrily… and the pomposity of the Mizner paterfamilias in Road Show.) And anyone with children can sympathize with this bit (from a birthday song celebrating and gently mocking Mary Rodgers):
There’s a dawn that is breaking.
There are deeds to be done,
There’s a world in the making.
There’s a place in the sun
And it’s yours for the taking!
Get your ass in there.
Nina tore the TV limb from limbThe nice thing about reading a nonfiction sequel is that you can sometimes learn answers to questions raised in the earlier work. So, in the comments of my other review, I wrote, “I find Into the Woods awkward at best... I mean, Sondheim had Bernadette Peters rapping in it. Not the best artistic choice, Steve, for you or her.” As noted, Into the Woods is part of this book, and as you might expect, Sondheim has fairly progressive views about the relationship of rap to Broadway, finding its shared roots in vaudeville and citing Meredith Willson’s brilliant use of rap in the opening number of The Music Man (in which the traveling salesmen’s patter echoes the momentum of a train). Sondheim says he “tried to make it work” in his and Lapine’s grown-up fairytale, but credits Lin-Manuel Miranda (see, e.g., In the Heights and The Hamilton Mixtape) with being “a master of the form, but enough of a traditionalist to know the way he can utilize its theatrical potential.” (See, e.g., p. XXI of the ‘Reintroduction.’) Decide for yourself, but between a rapping Aaron Burr and Bring in Da Noize, Bring in Da Funk, I’m fully on board.
Todd repaired it – good for him!
Turn on Channel 5 – oh, look, there’s Kim!
“Mommy!”
“Later – Mommy’s on the telephone…”
Toddy’s hitting Nina with a sledge.
Kimmy’s on the window ledge.
Where could she have gone? She was on the edge!
“Mommy!”
“Later – Mommy’s on the telephone, please! Children, I’ll be with you in a minute…” (p. 410)
my fondness for the word “hat,” which the British critic Michael Ratcliffe pointed out in his program note at London’s Royal National Theatre, when Sunday in the Park with George was produced there in 1990. From “You could say, ‘Hey, here’s your hat’” in Gypsy to “Does anyone still wear a hat?” in Company, through “Hats off!” in Follies and “It’s called a bowler hat” in Pacific Overtures, I seem to be attached to it as an image. Surely some future graduate student in Musical Theater, looking for an obscure subject to write about, will seize on “The Use of Headgear in Sondheim’s Lyrics” and conjure up insightful theories for my persistent attraction to the word, but I can save him the trouble: it’s the jaunty tone and the ease in rhyming that attract me – two sound reasons.”So there you have it: tone and rhymability. Two poetic attributes to die for.