Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd...

So last week I scored a free ticket to see Sweeney Todd, a musical which I had a passing familiarity with but which I'd never seen or listened to in its entirety.

In general, I find Sondheim (as in Stephen, the composer/lyricist of Sweeney Todd and many others, arguably the best composer on Broadway since the Golden Age) intensely difficult to listen to before seeing the production staged. However, interestingly enough, it also tends to be difficult to fully assimilate in a single sitting. Thus, in order to fully appreciate his work, I need to see it performed (or read the script), and then listen to the recording numerous times before I even begin to grasp the thrust of his work. It went that way with Pacific Overtures, which I couldn't get into until I saw a Japanese production of it at Lincoln Center (which became the basis for the recent Broadway revival), it happened again with Assassins (I didn't go see the recent revival, but I tried listening to it and could not do it) and most recently with Sweeney Todd.

Part of the reason for this lies in what makes Sondheim great. I don't think there's ever been anyone better than him at weaving multiple themes together simultaneously. But moments like that, with two or more people singing different lyrics onstage at the same time, aren't the sort of thing you can typically decipher in a single performance. Hell, sometimes it's even difficult when it's a single person singing, depending on their ability. The difficulty, however, is finding those moments in the midst of his intimidating scores and dismal subject matter. Probably 80% or more of most Sondheim scores are the musical theater equivalent of recitative; atonal, random musical themes with rapid-fire, challenging lyrics. In addition, he has an almost Brechtian love of challenging his audiences to find a single shred of moral decency or any kind of emotional connection with his characters. Sweeney Todd, for example, is a man who was wronged, who was sent to Australia because the judge wanted to do the horizontal foxtrot with his wife. He returns seeking vengeance, but along the way becomes a bit unhinged (as I suppose anyone stuck in Australia for a few years might) and starts killing random people who come into his shop, and turning them into meat pies, sold in the shop below. Assassins is entirely about the people who've tried, in some way, shape or form, to assassinate American presidents; both the successful and unsuccessful. Pacific Overtures attempts to trace the development of Japanese society from its forced opening by the Western powers in the late 1800s through to modern day; the two main characters are a minor samurai who becomes a sellout, assuming Western stances and attire and a poor man who lived with Americans and was thrown into jail because he had thus become impure; upon the arrival of the Americans in Japan, he is released to aid in the negotiations, and elevated to the rank of samurai after their success. He then joins the ultra-traditional samurai ranks, and eventally kills the other character, who had once been his friend, as part of an effort to reach the emperor and plead for a return to traditional attitudes. After he's killed his former friend, the emperor steps forward and announces Japan's move into the 20th century, modernizing and industrializing and leading, of course, to the bomb.

Yeah, Steve's not really a happy guy.

And yet in his shows, if you listen to them enough and pay enough attention, there are moments of shocking hilarity and tenderness. The question, I suppose, is are those moments worth the overall pretention of the shows? I mean, obviously if that's what he wants to do, he has every right, but what does it mean if the message of your art is so inaccessible that it can only be found through multiple sittings? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy anything that rewards multiple viewing as much as the next person, but you can go too far with that and make something so layered that people don't care enough to watch it a second time. I would never take anyone to any Sondheim show if they were a musical theater neophyte and didn't know what he was all about. Never. I'd just have to put up with an evening of, "What the fuck was that?" And trying to explain it doesn't really appeal to me.

I feel like that's part of the appeal of Sondheim; like any intellectual artist, there is a healthy dose of snobbery and elitism that goes along with knowing him and his work, a taste of, "Oh, yes, I get him." Musical theater to begin with is a marginalized product, and Sondheim is a niche within that niche.

Speaking of which - the Public is totally presenting a Brecht play with Meryl fucking Streep this summer, after Macbeth finishes up its run. AND check out this story about Kevin Kline in secret rehearsals for King Lear.

OH MY GOD I WANT. I SWEAR I WOULD KILL YOU FOR THOSE TICKETS. OMFGWTFBBQLOLZ!!!