When ‘Follies’ is enough entertainment

JOSEPH N. BELL

I got re-connected with Stephen Sondheim last Friday at UC Irvine’s

Irvine Barclay Theater by a group of remarkably vital old pros who

know Sondheim and his work close-up and not from a generational

distance.

The vehicle was “Follies” -- which contains some of Sondheim’s

most pungent and poignant lyrics -- and the primary driving force in

bringing it to us as a fully produced show was its director, Teri

Ralston, who called on some of her show-biz pals to reprise their

work in Broadway musicals on the Barclay stage. All this was aided

and abetted by a passel of talented students from the newly minted

California Conservatory of the Arts in San Juan Capistrano.

I had multiple reasons for not missing this show. First off, I’ve

been suffering from Sondheim withdrawal for well over 10 years --

since his last two produced musicals, “Passion” and “Assassins,”

which left me with a feeling of guilt for longing for the good old

days of “Company” and “A Little Night Music.” Then, too, because I

saw the original production of “Follies” in New York more than 30

years ago and have been wanting to see it again ever since. And,

finally, because the 87-year-old John Raitt -- who lives among us

here -- was cast as the Florenz Ziegfeld character, and I go back

with him all the way to his leading role in the first national

company of “Oklahoma.”

So I was prepared to enjoy uncritically -- and did. “I’m Still

Here” was just as defiant, “Too Many Mornings” and “Losing My Mind”

just as wistful, and “Will I Leave You” just as angry as I

remembered. The only disappointment was the absence of John Raitt,

who had appeared on opening night but disappeared Friday. I still

have my “Oklahoma” playbill from the Erlanger Theater in Chicago in

1944 with a youthful John Raitt on the cover, and I still hope I

might be able to show it to him.

I have long been fascinated with the lyricists who were the poet

laureates of my generation. I’ve been privileged to meet and write

about several of them -- Oscar Hammerstein, Alan Jay Lerner, Sheldon

Harnick -- but I’ve never interviewed Sondheim and have seen him only

once, when he was working and re-working “Into the Woods” in San

Diego in 1987. While my wife and I were watching it there, we were

also acutely aware of Sondheim pacing the rear of the house taking

notes, especially during the second act, which still needed work when

we saw the show again in New York several months later.

Things have not been going as well for Sondheim since the success

of “Into the Woods.” “Assassins” didn’t make it to Broadway the first

time around, and the run of “Passion” was short by Sondheim

standards.

Meanwhile, Sondheim has spent much of the intervening decade

trying to launch a musical based on the lives of Wilson and Addison

Mizner called -- successively -- “Wise Guys,” “Gold” and “Bounce.” In

its latest reincarnation, it played in Chicago and Washington, D.C.

to reviews negative enough to kill its planned trip to Broadway. So

the only certain Broadway entry Sondheim currently has going is a

revival of “Assassins,” which is scheduled to open in New York next

month.

This decline of Sondheim’s commercial fortunes offers a dramatic

example of the need of highly creative people -- in Sondheim’s case,

genius -- to constantly reach for new challenges beyond whatever

success they may be enjoying. Sondheim caught that in one of his song

titles: “I Never Do Anything Twice.”

Sondheim’s creative explorations have mostly been commercially

successful, even though they universally led rather than followed his

audience. “Merrily We Roll Along” was the only real flop; it broke

too many rules too soon, but was later resurrected to acclaim.

“Sweeney Todd” was an opera with a rational -- if bizarre -- plot

line and singable music. “Sunday in the Park with George” was an

esoteric look at the world of art and the people who make and sell

it. Each time, we had to stretch, but we continued to puff along

behind him.

But then came “Assassins,” an ironic and dark depiction of the

people who killed -- or tried to kill -- our presidents, followed by

an agonizing look at the power of passion in an unattractive woman to

seduce an unlikely lover. These two have been playing out on

television and college campuses while Sondheim aficionados like me

try to warm up to them.

Meanwhile, Sondheim -- soon to be 74 years old -- is reportedly

looking back to the roots of his early shows as he struggles to come

to creative grips with the Mizner brothers.

I’m not sure of the lesson here -- and whether it has anything to

do with the aging process. Clearly, the creative juices don’t dry up.

They push and prod until they are recognized and exercised. But

should that energy be expended on tilting at new windmills or

examining old ones from the new perspective of age?

Of one thing I am sure. My generation owes an enormous debt to

Sondheim. We grew up on the music of the Broadway theater, a uniquely

American product offered up by the likes of Irving Berlin, Cole

Porter, the Gershwins, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Jerome Kern, Johnny

Mercer, Harold Arlen and so many others. Sondheim joined that club

late, and as his older associates began to die off, Sondheim remained

and finally stood almost alone in preserving the Broadway musical and

providing a bridge for a group of new young composers to cross to his

side.

And while we’re at it, we can thank the people who devoted so much

time and energy to staging “Follies” in our backyard last week.

It was the beginning of a mixed cultural weekend for me. It

continued at Disney Hall, where the Los Angeles Philharmonic

delivered Berlioz’s “Symphonie fantastique” to wild -- and

well-deserved -- acclaim, and ended quickly and decisively with the

Super Bowl half-time show, which I turned off as quickly as possible

after I checked out the balloon screen my friend and neighbor, Treb

Heining, had created. So I missed the Janet Jackson episode, but I

heard and saw enough to hope devoutly that the people who brought us

“Follies” can preserve that heritage against the noise and chaos and

bad taste that would replace it.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a resident of Santa Ana Heights. His column

appears Thursdays.