You have to hand it to Stephen Sondheim. There is probably nobody in musical theater history who has spun more gold out of such unpromising or unlikely material – and when we look back on the late 20th century, he will be regarded as one of our most innovative and courageous geniuses, who achieved compelling greatness even in his flops. And more than anything, one walks away from a Sondheim show thinking “how did he ever come up with that?!?!” And for me that’s the highest compliment. Let me put it another way. When I attend most musicals of the Lerner&Loewe/ Rodgers&Hammerstein/ Lloyd Webber variety, I typically walk out of there feeling like I might want to try my hand at writing a musical of my own someday. It seems like a significant undertaking but not a particularly intimidating one. (Sounds a little pompous, doesn’t it?) Just come up with a nice little story, a few good tunes, and voila! You have a show! But when I leave something like Sunday in the Park with George, I am tempted to throw away all of my manuscript paper and pens. . . because a show like this springs out of a kind of genius that I cannot begin to fathom, let alone emulate. This is Lobster Thermidore. I’m Mrs. Paul’s Fish Sticks.
When I heard that Carthage was undertaking this show, I was really taken aback- and also tremendously relieved that it wasn’t going to be up to me to teach this incredibly complex score to the cast and orchestra – or conduct the performances of it. And that was driven home to me that day I tried to record the accompaniment for music director Amy Haines for her to use at some of the rehearsals where a pianist wouldn’t be available. I was okay for a page or two, but the music quickly became more than I could handle and I stumbled out of my studio several hours later feeling like Mr. Sondheim himself had beaten me black and blue. It’s not often that I’m humbled by a piece of music the way this score humbled me. . . and it was only when I could have Amy next to me, conducting and leading (and keeping me from sticking my head in the oven) that I was eventually able to play the score and record it with some semblance of accuracy and grace.
The music for this show is indeed highly intricate and sophisticated (with actually very little in the way of simple, soaring tunes) but I think what is the most remarkable thing about this show is its story: a fictional account of how George Serraut created his extraordinary painting “Sunday afternoon on La Grande Jatte.” Sondheim and his librettist, Joseph Lapine, demonstrated supreme originality and skill in choosing such subject matter for a show- and then in spinning out such an imaginative narrative arc. And beyond the plot, what is perhaps the very best thing about this show (theatrically) is how vibrant and real the characters are. Too many shows are populated by cartoonish cardboard characters, but not this one.
Of course, you need great performances to fulfill the promise of what’s on the page- and Carthage’s cast delivered that and more. What astounded me most of all was that they could sing such incredibly difficult music while remaining so convincingly in character, without a deer-in-the headlights expression of panic. Kudos to the cast, to the superbly gifted orchestra, and to their fearless leader, Amy Haines. By the way, this show requires a very skilled ensemble and I was impressed by everyone on that stage…. and especially the two leads, Dan Ermel and Bridget Estola. Dan is a voice student of mine who continues to amaze me with his gifts- but he really outdid himself this week. Not only did he perform this incredibly difficult role extremely well, but he also juggled this with the honors recital auditions three days ago (for which he sang five songs by Robert Schumann, and extremely well) -and all this in the wake of losing his beloved grandmother at the start of the week. I wonder if even Dan himself knew that he was capable of doing all this and doing it so well. But as fine as his performance was as George, it would have been for nought if he hadn’t been opposite as strong and effective a stage partner as Bridget. The two of them achieved superlative chemistry- and the rest of the cast took up where the two of them left off. (What makes the show even more interesting and challenging is that everyone plays two roles- and often roles that are in sharp contrast to each other.) And the performers were so fortunate to be seen in bedazzling costumes, framed by a fascinating set, and enhanced by some astonishing special effects.
I’ve gushed enough. Go see Sunday in the Park with George! It’s a show that does not cross your path every day, especially performed as well as this. There are performances this weekend and the next, and I know that I’ll be going back at least once.
pictured above: a cake served at the opening night reception. I had hoped to use a pictured of Dan and me right after the performance, but yours truly had his eyes closed in both of them. Arrrrgh.
p.s. – My headline only makes sense if you know something about the golden age of professional wrestling. Gorgeous George was one of the most famous wrestlers from back in the 40’s and 50’s.