As Fred Ebb said in Colored Lights, “We survived Flora, and Jerry [Bock] and Sheldon [Harnick] could survive The Body Beautiful and go on to Fiddler.” That two giant steps forward, two times.
What was the show Kander and Ebb wrote after Flora, the Red Menace? That was Cabaret, and Fiddler is short for, of course, another Broadway masterwork, Fiddler on the Roof. In Colored Lights, Kander and Ebb discuss in the book their admiration for Andrew Lippa’s The Wild Party and reflect on the absence of a follow-up show, a serious concern they mention about today’s Broadway. As they say, “Flora flopped and without hesitation Hal [Prince] said, ‘Let’s go to work on Cabaret.’”
Success at anything comes only from experience. When I was a teacher, I did a lot of things well my first year teaching, but I also made many mistakes. I had to make those mistakes so that I could improve to become the teacher that I did become. Our musical theatre writers today need to stretch their legs on work before an audience in order to grow. As I’ve written before, Rodgers and Hammerstein worked on dozens of shows separately before they could present the groundbreaking Oklahoma!.
A successful director sees that in actors which the actors themselves cannot see. I love the story of Bob Fosse saying, right before his death, that he had figured out how to make Chicago into a movie and that he would win Madonna an Academy Award, the same Madonna who has been lambasted in many of her movies.
A producer must also do the same, see something in a project that perhaps many others can’t see, a vision to make the material better. They must also see something in the creative team that perhaps others can't see, like Hal Prince did with Kander and Ebb.
I think we, as a Broadway community, need to do the same when it comes to writers of musicals because for every Flora, the Red Menace there is a Cabaret, Chicago, and Kiss of the Spider Woman.
For me, one such score is Mindi Dickstein and Jason Howland’s Little Women, their adaptation that ran for 55 previews and 137 performances in the 2004-2005 season.
Yes, I have pinpointed in many different columns here about flaws in the show, and I think its short life on Broadway is an accurate measure of the show (as is its seeming regional success).
However, let’s not dismiss it altogether.
I actually bought the CD shortly before I attended the tour so that, afterwards, I would be ready to listen to it. I wasn’t overly thrilled about the show, but because I had already bought the CD, I listened to it. After just a few listens, however, I found myself wanting to hear it again and again. Yes, like many others, I immediately embraced “Astonishing” (a sort of anthem for me), but I then found the beauty and joy in the rest of the score. In fact, it’s now one of the shows I listen to fairly often.
I would highly encourage you to give the score a second chance as well because the songs do reveal themselves to be very catchy and tuneful, almost in an old school sort of way, as if they came from a Disney movie (and not just because Kim Scharnberg’s orchestrations have a very Beauty and the Beast feel to them).
Not only does it have the power ballad of “Astonishing,” but Dickstein and Howland work into the score a variety of styles. Often, the big dramatic scores of the past twenty years get criticized for sacrificing humor and charm for mood or emotion, but Little Women offers a score that is ripe with both. Look at “The Most Amazing Thing,” the song in which Amy and Laurie reveal their marriage, which exchanges the beautiful ballad with a fun and jaunty tune.
In addition to fun and jaunty and the power ballad, we are given a host of other song styles. Two of the best are Marmee’s solos, “Here Alone” and “Days of Plenty,” the latter of which is a moving and powerful testament to survival.
Other gems include the introductory “Our Finest Dreams,” which establishes all of the children and alternates between fun character antics and beautiful harmony. “I’d Be Delighted” is a really delightful number, as is “Five Forever,” the lively number in which the March girls welcome Laurie as one of their own.
There are three particularly beautiful numbers in Little Women. “Small Umbrella in the Rain” is a touching duet between Jo and Professor Bhaer, in which they express their love through their differences (united by their passion for life). Beth and Mr. Laurence get the simple “Off to Massachusetts,” which is amazingly catchy and a song I often find pleasantly running through my mind. And of course, Beth and Jo’s moving “Some Things are Meant to Be” never fails to move me, both for its simple but emotional melody and how beautifully the lyrics depict the beloved sisters as Louisa May Alcott wrote them.
It wasn’t apparent when you saw the show, but Dickstein’s lyrics are filled with exact rhymes and richness in thought. I particularly admire her use of the word astonishing, which takes a word we know but uses it in a way we wouldn’t normally hear it. By the time Jo is done with her song, it’s like a whole new word was invented.
Perhaps it’s best to say that where the score fails is in song placement, not in the melodies and lyrics themselves. In fact, the melodies and lyrics reveal great strength and potential. Perhaps in a show without such a classic story, with a different book-writer and director, Dickstein and Howland will find their place to shine.
Simply put, their Little Women score is way too melodic and enjoyable for them to be ignored.
The Broadway Mouth
April 9, 2008
Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Monday, August 20, 2007
Making It on Broadway
One of my favorite Broadway books, and as far as I’m concerned a must-have for any theatre fan, is David Wienir and Jodie Langel’s Making It on Broadway, which is a collection of first-hand accounts from contemporary Broadway performers about the heart-breaks and disillusions they’ve met along the way. If you don’t already own this book, honestly, go out and buy it!
I bought it as soon as I could when it was published back in the spring of 2004. I had just started a job substitute teaching for a wonderful teacher on maternity leave in a district with a strong middle school reading program. Each hour, these seventh grade students would begin class by reading for ten minutes at least. I brought the book to school knowing that I would have at least ten minutes each hour to read.
It was instant meth. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I’d give the kids a few extra minutes to read, would be reading it during passing time, during my prep times, during lunch, while walking down the hall to the copier, and while the copies were being made. I devoured the book in record time. It was that good.
Some of the book does sound like whining, like a book I could have easily written about the teaching profession when I quit my first job after two years, having entered it with passion and, in a matter of two years, witnessed all my hopes, ideals, and dreams pulverized by the grind of working 80-100 hours a week and dealing with all the traditional teacher crap that propels 50% of new teachers out of the classroom within five years.
But Making It on Broadway has honestly had a profound effect on me as a theatre-goer and as a future librettist. When I think about whom I’d love to cast in my shows if they ever made it to Broadway, I think about this book. When I see Jerry Mathers stumbling through a televised performance from Hairspray, I think about this book. When I see people attacking performers on message boards, I think about this book. When I envision the career I’d like to have as a writer and the impact I’d like to have on Broadway no what genre I write, I think about this book.
Most recently, Making It on Broadway has changed me in another way. I have found inspiration in the experiences of the actors still struggling to survive the Broadway lifestyle. I’ve been candid on here about the [horribly wrong but well-intended] choices I’ve made in my attempt to get somewhere, and I recently hit rock bottom. After my summer school job in a juvenile detention center ended, I found myself unemployed and in a panic. I took a job as a debt collector, which, for the record, is nowhere to be found on the list of 9872 jobs that best fit my personality. Despite my training managers giving me encouragement that I’d be very successful and a strong candidate for supervisor in the future, I ended up quitting after three days on the job because I couldn’t sound commanding and authoritative on the phone no matter how much pressure my new manager applied. I just don’t have a flexible voice, and I am physically unable to sound commanding and authoritative on the telephone. It sounds odd, but if you ever heard me, you’d understand. This was another one those horribly wrong but well-intended decisions. I expected I could get more bears with honey than with vinegar. I never had the chance to prove it, but apparently that’s a stupid theory in debt collections. Oops.
That was a new low. I mean a low new low. A really low new low.
And like I’ve often done in the past, I picked up Making It on Broadway to re-read a few chapters, and I somehow opened up to the end of the book when people are taking about the financial and personal toll their career choices have had—having to sell houses, living in severe financial instability, taking on horrible jobs to make ends meet. Okay, so other than the taking horrible jobs, I’m not there quite yet. And I don’t begin to suggest that my life is anything comparable to the tough life of an actor, but it’s a nice reminder that this is the way things are supposed to go. Maybe through all my horribly wrong but well-intended choices, I’m still somewhat on the right track.
I like John Rubinstein’s opening thought in the book.
And that’s my problem. There’s nothing out there that seems like it will bring me joy except writing—writing any number of things, but writing nonetheless (I’ve always felt as if one writing opportunity would lead to another, like Broadway). I live in a state of constant discontent, but it’s that discontent that drives us on. We should all be thankful for discontent.
So, it looks like I will return to teaching again. I’m a very good teacher, fortunately, and I love kids. I honestly never fully recovered after the devastation of my first two years of teaching, but it pays the bills. And, like I said, I’m very good at it. The good news is that I think I’ve found the avenue to get a job in California, at least somewhat closer to a place where I can get my Master’s in writing or producing. Maybe I’ll stop making horribly wrong but well-intended mistakes and actually make it somewhere.
I’ve actually thought many times that if I could never get produced or published, I’d pay off my debts and move to Africa to teach orphan children in a mission school. It’s the only teaching situation I could think of that would be permanently worth the all-consuming nature of the profession.
But I still don’t think I’ve exhausted all the possibilities yet for getting produced and published, so onward I go.
I once heard that a person forms images in their head of their ideal situation. I forget the term for it, but it is essentially a scenario people create for which they strive. For example, if a man forms the image of a nice home in the suburbs with a wife, two kids, and a huge SUV, that’s for what he strives and not reaching that image becomes a source of strife and conflict.
I don’t want to go into details on my own ideal situation, but Making It on Broadway has actually helped me form an image in my mind of how I could make a difference for this amazing art form I love.
Please forgive the self-indulgent nature of this entry. I generally avoid this sort of thing just because it’s not the focus of my blog. But I found Making It on Broadway so inspirational these past few days, I couldn’t help but write about how.
Honestly, I need to also say, I really think Wienir and Langel should write another Making It on Broadway book, perhaps dealing with another aspect of the business, like what performers think about current trends—amplification, the types of shows that are produced, savage message boards, etc.
I end with a quote. I find the song “Astonishing” from Little Women to be very inspirational, so with an excerpt of it, I end to inspire all those who refuse to “disappear without a trace.”
I only know I’m meant
For something more
I’ve got to know if I can be
Astonishing.
There’s a life that I am meant to lead,
A life like nothing I have known.
I can feel it far from here.
I’ve got to find it on my own.
Even now I feel its heat upon my skin:
A life of passion that pulls me from within.
A life that I am aching to begin.
There must be somewhere I can be
Astonishing.
Astonishing.
I’ll find my way.
I’ll find it far away.
I’ll find it in the unexpected
And unknown.
I’ll find my own life in my own way—today.
the Broadway Mouth
August 20, 2007
I bought it as soon as I could when it was published back in the spring of 2004. I had just started a job substitute teaching for a wonderful teacher on maternity leave in a district with a strong middle school reading program. Each hour, these seventh grade students would begin class by reading for ten minutes at least. I brought the book to school knowing that I would have at least ten minutes each hour to read.
It was instant meth. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I’d give the kids a few extra minutes to read, would be reading it during passing time, during my prep times, during lunch, while walking down the hall to the copier, and while the copies were being made. I devoured the book in record time. It was that good.
Some of the book does sound like whining, like a book I could have easily written about the teaching profession when I quit my first job after two years, having entered it with passion and, in a matter of two years, witnessed all my hopes, ideals, and dreams pulverized by the grind of working 80-100 hours a week and dealing with all the traditional teacher crap that propels 50% of new teachers out of the classroom within five years.
But Making It on Broadway has honestly had a profound effect on me as a theatre-goer and as a future librettist. When I think about whom I’d love to cast in my shows if they ever made it to Broadway, I think about this book. When I see Jerry Mathers stumbling through a televised performance from Hairspray, I think about this book. When I see people attacking performers on message boards, I think about this book. When I envision the career I’d like to have as a writer and the impact I’d like to have on Broadway no what genre I write, I think about this book.
Most recently, Making It on Broadway has changed me in another way. I have found inspiration in the experiences of the actors still struggling to survive the Broadway lifestyle. I’ve been candid on here about the [horribly wrong but well-intended] choices I’ve made in my attempt to get somewhere, and I recently hit rock bottom. After my summer school job in a juvenile detention center ended, I found myself unemployed and in a panic. I took a job as a debt collector, which, for the record, is nowhere to be found on the list of 9872 jobs that best fit my personality. Despite my training managers giving me encouragement that I’d be very successful and a strong candidate for supervisor in the future, I ended up quitting after three days on the job because I couldn’t sound commanding and authoritative on the phone no matter how much pressure my new manager applied. I just don’t have a flexible voice, and I am physically unable to sound commanding and authoritative on the telephone. It sounds odd, but if you ever heard me, you’d understand. This was another one those horribly wrong but well-intended decisions. I expected I could get more bears with honey than with vinegar. I never had the chance to prove it, but apparently that’s a stupid theory in debt collections. Oops.
That was a new low. I mean a low new low. A really low new low.
And like I’ve often done in the past, I picked up Making It on Broadway to re-read a few chapters, and I somehow opened up to the end of the book when people are taking about the financial and personal toll their career choices have had—having to sell houses, living in severe financial instability, taking on horrible jobs to make ends meet. Okay, so other than the taking horrible jobs, I’m not there quite yet. And I don’t begin to suggest that my life is anything comparable to the tough life of an actor, but it’s a nice reminder that this is the way things are supposed to go. Maybe through all my horribly wrong but well-intended choices, I’m still somewhat on the right track.
I like John Rubinstein’s opening thought in the book.
If someone tells me, “I love the theater. I have always acted, sung, and danced throughout high school and college. While it’s my favorite thing, I also love marine biology. I am torn. What should I do with my life?” Then to that person, the absolute rock-solid advice is, “Stay away from show business and go into marine biology.”
And that’s my problem. There’s nothing out there that seems like it will bring me joy except writing—writing any number of things, but writing nonetheless (I’ve always felt as if one writing opportunity would lead to another, like Broadway). I live in a state of constant discontent, but it’s that discontent that drives us on. We should all be thankful for discontent.
So, it looks like I will return to teaching again. I’m a very good teacher, fortunately, and I love kids. I honestly never fully recovered after the devastation of my first two years of teaching, but it pays the bills. And, like I said, I’m very good at it. The good news is that I think I’ve found the avenue to get a job in California, at least somewhat closer to a place where I can get my Master’s in writing or producing. Maybe I’ll stop making horribly wrong but well-intended mistakes and actually make it somewhere.
I’ve actually thought many times that if I could never get produced or published, I’d pay off my debts and move to Africa to teach orphan children in a mission school. It’s the only teaching situation I could think of that would be permanently worth the all-consuming nature of the profession.
But I still don’t think I’ve exhausted all the possibilities yet for getting produced and published, so onward I go.
I once heard that a person forms images in their head of their ideal situation. I forget the term for it, but it is essentially a scenario people create for which they strive. For example, if a man forms the image of a nice home in the suburbs with a wife, two kids, and a huge SUV, that’s for what he strives and not reaching that image becomes a source of strife and conflict.
I don’t want to go into details on my own ideal situation, but Making It on Broadway has actually helped me form an image in my mind of how I could make a difference for this amazing art form I love.
Please forgive the self-indulgent nature of this entry. I generally avoid this sort of thing just because it’s not the focus of my blog. But I found Making It on Broadway so inspirational these past few days, I couldn’t help but write about how.
Honestly, I need to also say, I really think Wienir and Langel should write another Making It on Broadway book, perhaps dealing with another aspect of the business, like what performers think about current trends—amplification, the types of shows that are produced, savage message boards, etc.
I end with a quote. I find the song “Astonishing” from Little Women to be very inspirational, so with an excerpt of it, I end to inspire all those who refuse to “disappear without a trace.”
I only know I’m meant
For something more
I’ve got to know if I can be
Astonishing.
There’s a life that I am meant to lead,
A life like nothing I have known.
I can feel it far from here.
I’ve got to find it on my own.
Even now I feel its heat upon my skin:
A life of passion that pulls me from within.
A life that I am aching to begin.
There must be somewhere I can be
Astonishing.
Astonishing.
I’ll find my way.
I’ll find it far away.
I’ll find it in the unexpected
And unknown.
I’ll find my own life in my own way—today.
the Broadway Mouth
August 20, 2007
Monday, August 6, 2007
Amazing Broadway Performer: Sutton Foster
It was with great excitement that I sat down in the Marquis Theatre to see The Drowsy Chaperone last August. More than anything, I was so excited to get to see Sutton Foster for the first time. I had seen her on televised performances from both Thoroughly Modern Millie and Little Women and after seeing those shows on tour had picked up their OBCRs, so I was quite familiar with whom Sutton Foster was.
This woman has it all. I hate to do comparisons, but she’s really become the Gwen Verdon or Mary Martin of our time, able to command the stage with her talent, to tackle a variety of roles extremely well, and she’s managed to do it without long stretches between roles. I greatly admire her dedication to the profession. I would never ever hold it against her for going West if she ever chose, but she’s done what several other major Broadway stars of the past decade could have done—making a career on Broadway—but the difference is that she’s choosing to do it. She’s taking on long runs in new shows and running away with our hearts while she’s at it.
I loved her as Janet Van De Graaff. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s got that magnetic stage presence like a Broadway star must have, and she knows how to work her audience. I ate up every second of her performance.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/suttonfosteronline/
the Broadway Mouth
August 6, 2007
This woman has it all. I hate to do comparisons, but she’s really become the Gwen Verdon or Mary Martin of our time, able to command the stage with her talent, to tackle a variety of roles extremely well, and she’s managed to do it without long stretches between roles. I greatly admire her dedication to the profession. I would never ever hold it against her for going West if she ever chose, but she’s done what several other major Broadway stars of the past decade could have done—making a career on Broadway—but the difference is that she’s choosing to do it. She’s taking on long runs in new shows and running away with our hearts while she’s at it.
I loved her as Janet Van De Graaff. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s got that magnetic stage presence like a Broadway star must have, and she knows how to work her audience. I ate up every second of her performance.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/suttonfosteronline/
the Broadway Mouth
August 6, 2007
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