This is a Standalone book and does not include Music Sheet.
Winner of six Tony Awards
“A wondrous fable that is as simple and complicated as its ineffable subject—love. The Light in the Piazza has ravishing power. It’s as if Guettel were determined to capture the golden light of Tuscany in a bottle. His lyrics are remarkable, and the book, written by Craig Lucas, is written with characteristic empathy and humor. Brilliant.” –Frank Rich
“ The Light in the Piazza beautifully captures the eternal allure of Italy. . . . The story wraps itself around your heart.”— Chicago Sun-Times
“Sumptuous and romantic. Guettel’s music and lyrics represent a genuine expense of spirit. The Light in the Piazza offers a complex contemplation of the well-defended emptiness of every man and woman. It doesn’t want theatergoers to feel good; it wants to make them feel deeply. And it does.” –New Yorker
Composer Adam Guettel, best known for his Floyd Collins , has teamed with Prelude to a Kiss playwright Craig Lucas to create a passionate and soaring new musical. Based on Elizabeth Spencer’s 1960 novella, The Light in the Piazza is the story of a young American woman whose chance encounter with a charming young Italian man in a Florentine piazza sets off a whirlwind romance, with an unsettling revelation.
Craig Lucas is a playwright, screenwriter and director. His plays include Prelude to a Kiss, Reckless, Blue Window, God’s Heart, The Singing Forest and Small Tragedy . His screenplays include Longtime Companion , The Secret Lives of Dentists and The Dying Gaul , which he also directed. Mr. Lucas’ awards include the L.A. Drama Critics Award, an OBIE Award for Best Play and Best Director, and the Excellence in Literature Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Adam Guettel is a composer/lyricist living in Seattle, where he is Artist in Residence at the Intiman Theatre. His other work includes Floyd Collins and Saturn Returns (recorded by Nonesuch Records as Myths and Hymns ). Mr. Guettel’s awards include the Stephen Sondheim Award, the ASCAP New Horizons Award, and the American Composers Orchestra Award.
Abandon cynicism all ye who enter here, this is an unabashedly romantic piece of work. It's probably my favourite musical.
Reading this again was revision because I speak about 3 whole words of italian, and no, you don't have to in order to enjoy it. Not speaking italian probably puts you all the more squarely in the protagonists' shoes.
The Light in the Piazza is a story about hope in the face of alarming and escalating evidence to the contrary--a show that says we can believe in a miracle to set us free, to redeem us, even when we know that it probably can't, probably won't. It's also--and this is why it's such a welcome breath of fresh air!--a show that says to audiences: we trust you, we respect you: we know you're grown-ups and you've lived in the world and you're going to follow us wherever we go: we don't need to pummel you into submission or resort to cheap theatrics to keep you entranced.
It begins in Florence, in 1953, a city just re-emerging from the terrors of Mussolini and World War II, a place nevertheless of nurturing history and spectacular beauty. Margaret Johnson, the wife of a wealthy North Carolina tobacco company executive is on vacation in Italy with her adult daughter Clara. The plan seems to be to revisit a passel of places where Margaret and her husband Roy spent their honeymoon, long before the War; but nothing goes according to plan on this trip. For almost immediately, a young Italian named Fabrizio Naccarelli sees Clara and, as far as we can tell, falls head-over-heels. They meet in the piazza and when her hat blows off her head he retrieves it for her. Soon, he's everywhere: if they go to the museum, then he goes to the museum; if they happen upon a particular sidewalk cafe, so does he. He's dogged in his pursuit, and so against her better judgment, the protective Margaret gives in. She and Clara meet Fabrizio's family--his domineering father (Mark Harelik), who runs a men's tie business; his devoted mother; his flighty older brother Giuseppe and his unhappy sister-in-law Franca. It is clear that Clara and Fabrizio are in love, and Margaret loves what that love might mean for both her daughter and herself.
And so, against her even better judgment, she lets the romance run its course. As a great playwright once said, such a course never did run smooth--and so there's an interlude in Rome, where the women temporarily escape Fabrizio's ardor; and there are passionate leaps ahead and disturbing steps backward after they return to Florence. There are excellent rational reasons why Margaret should rein Clara and Fabrizio in, and she knows them; but we're always aware--and this is tribute both to authors Adam Guettel and Craig Lucas, that Margaret never stops weighing her options. If I surrender to fate, or destiny, or irresponsibility, or whatever you want to call it, she seems to be thinking, am I really responsible for the consequences? It all comes together in a surprisingly affecting final song called "Fable," the name she gives to love; one of the wondrous things about this show is that it never comes together until that point, which is to say that everything that happens here--as in a person's life, one might argue--is absolutely necessary. Even the slow parts, even the sad parts; perhaps especially those.
Lucas's book is remarkable in its sophistication. He lets his characters think out loud and, with Guettel, makes them sing when emotion overtakes them. In this way, we take this life-changing journey with Margaret, with an immediacy and vibrancy that feels just about unparalleled in my theatrical memory.
Guettel's score--his first on Broadway--contains some lovely songs (no recitative!), including "The Beauty Is," which introduces us to Clara; "Passeggiata," a gorgeous ensemble number in which Clara and Fabrizio have what amounts to their first date, walking arm-in-arm through the streets of Florence; "Say it Somehow," and "Love to Me," both love songs for Fabrizio; "Let's Walk," a wistful duet for Margaret and Signor Naccarelli; and the disarmingly brief title song. If his lyrics don't always have the specificity that we'd wish for, his melodies soar and transport us. Significantly, his and Lucas's contributions fit together seamlessly, entirely of a piece.
3.5 stars. I saw the play before reading this. The story is based on Elizabeth Spencer's novella by the same name. I enjoyed the beautiful music and found the story sweet and yet troubling at the same time. A young American woman meets a charming young Italian man in a Florentine piazza and thus starts an international romance, with some unexpected revelations and familial reactions.
Great play with an awesome beginning (the Goodman Theatre). I'm guessing it would be better with the sound track. And thank goodness for the side translations! Although it was fun to learn a couple words in Italian and see how closely Italian parallels Spanish. Wonderfully romantic story about a mother daughter "vacation" to Italy, a wonderfully romantic country. I could totally visualize production choices I might make for a production of this play. And I would love to produce/direct it if I knew I had actors who could speak Italian convincingly and could find a musical director willing to take it on.
Alas, another one of those "kicking myself for not living in NY when it was actually playing" moments. Sure, it's still a lovely story, but the magic just doesn't translate by only reading it in the page (even if I try to compensate by just listening to the cast album while reading along :p )