I don’t know if there is a more beautiful Broadway score than Paul Gordon’s work on Jane Eyre. The music is like a well-tended garden, a mountain landscape, or a north woods forest—a never-ending vista of beauty.
It’s no secret that Jane Eyre, with music and lyrics by Paul Gordon and additional lyrics by John Caird, is my favorite musical. Months before I ever thought about seeing the show, I was first captured by the OBCR and its sheer beauty, which was closely followed by my attraction to its story.
“Painting Her Portrait” is one highlight is a show filled with riches. In the song, poor ugly Jane Eyre torments herself with the thought of the ravishing Blanche Ingram who seems to have her claws deeply implanted into Rochester’s heart. Jane knows that she has nothing that the Victorian world deems worthy in a woman—beauty, wealth, breeding, or even a superior education. Lacking all, she knows she has no hope of ever having a life with the one man who has ever shown her genuine kindness, whose personality fits with hers.
As Jane paints her own portrait, the song is woven with a haunting melody that underscores Jane’s tormenting lyrics. Jane’s observation of Blanche’s portrait, however, is orchestrated with delicate strings and fragile beauty, all of which is quickly shoved aside when Jane begins to vehemently reprimand herself at the end of the song, the pace of the music speeding up, the fragile beauty meeting the haunting melody, building to Jane’s hurling of the lyrics back at herself with anger and frustration, singing, “Don’t even dare anymore to compare/ Say a prayer for your sorry soul, / Jane!” It’s those final lines that hit home Jane’s agony, the internal rhyming of the words dare, compare, and prayer sending the lyrics hurling back at herself in an unrelenting pace.
There’s other great beauty in the score of Jane Eyre that is worth noting, such as “Forgiveness,” “The Graveyard,” “Secret Soul,” “Sirens,” “In the Light of the Virgin Morning,” and “Brave Enough for Love,” to name a few.
On a recent trip to Barnes and Noble, I noticed that the OBCR of Jane Eyre has recently dropped down to $11.99, which is a real deal for any great Broadway score, let alone one as satisfying as Jane Eyre.
the Broadway Mouth
September 7, 2008
Showing posts with label Jane Eyre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jane Eyre. Show all posts
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Show Me!: That Bad Boy, Narration
Narrator: Cody tried everyone he knew. Nobody believed him. He realized that he would have to face his transformation alone. Being alone in your time of need is a terrible feeling, and Cody felt it.
The first play I ever wrote was for my high school creative writing class. In it, I used a narrator to act as glue between the parts of the story, dispensing such nuggets of wisdom as the one above. Yes, it was an intentional line of dialogue, but unnecessary nonetheless. In fact, when I taught creative writing, I saw how easily my students would use narration as crutch in playwriting and finally got to the point where I wouldn’t let them use it.
The use of narration in writing a play is a tricky thing. Sometimes, it’s unavoidable. Stage adaptations of long narratives tend to require narration to condense a 300+ page novel into a two-hour play, though it is a fine line. The first time I learned this was in watching a production of Great Expectations as adapted by Barbara Fields. The production had so much narration that I began to feel like I was having a bedtime story read to me rather than experiencing a compelling production of a great plot. There’s something wrong when the narrator tells you that Pip ran away while you are watching Pip run away.
A great example of the use of narration in a musical is Jane Eyre. In the novel, Jane tells her own story, and she does so in a way that opens up her own emotions to the audience, at times addressing them, such as in the famous, “Reader, I married him” line. The musical adaptation required the narration to help convey the breadth of the storytelling—stretching through Jane’s childhood at Gateshead, her time at Lowood School, her life at Thornfield, her return to Gateshead, her sojourn to Moor House, and her final return to Thornfield. Never is Jane required to spend great lengths addressing the audience, and when there is need for telling of events, the chorus is employed in a way that creates mood and atmosphere, communicating ideas without simply throwing them at the audience.
An example of when narration is superfluous is in the Broadway version of Jekyll and Hyde, where the narration that opens Act I and Act II could be entirely removed without affecting the plot. It was an interesting choice, considering the opening of each act in a musical is considered to be a place to grab the audience’s attention and pull them in, but the use of narration starts things out didn’t work in this case.
In reading the libretto of Big River, the weakness of the show appears to be the extensive use of narration. I’ve never seen Big River in production (a local high school was set to do it, but the school board nixed the idea), but it has entire paragraphs of Huck talking to the audience about what he’s done or is going to do. It reads as if you don’t actually see much happening. Instead, the story is being summarized and the audience is given vignettes to flesh out the most important points. The result is a show with great music holding together a weak book (Though, to be fair, adapting The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to the stage would be no easy task. As they say, there but for God, go I . . .)
The danger of narration is resorting to verbalizing a story rather than dramatizing it. One of the writer’s adages is “Show, Don’t Tell.” If the narration acts as a transition into the Show, sometimes it’s needed. But the story is being told to you—particularly when it could easily be shown to you—that’s when it gets to be too much.
the Broadway Mouth
May 10, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Ancient Texts of 2000
I recently dug out a binder in which I stashed a variety of Internet article printouts from around the year 2000. Trends and issues change so much; it’s interesting to look back on the past and see what trends and fears never came to be, promising artists who have yet to flourish, and the big shows of tomorrow that disappeared the next day.
A few of these ancient texts are still floating out there in cyberspace, so I’m sharing them here.
“Spotlight on Jason Robert Brown” by Jonathan Frank
Here’s an interesting interview with Jason Robert Brown from 2000, before The Last Five Years appeared in Chicago on its way to off-Broadway. I love reading interviews with Brown because he’s always thought-provoking and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.
I particularly like what he has to say in the third section of the interview on the need for shows to have an existence outside of Broadway. The only show to successfully do this since the interview without a feature film adaptation has been The Color Purple. With the aid of Oprah’s show and Fantasia’s American Idol performance, The Color Purple was planted firmly before millions of Americans, keeping a show running that otherwise would have closed within a year. Yes, its time was greatly extended as a result of Fantasia’s turn as Celie, but the fact that it survived long enough for her to take part is a credit to that multi-media existence.
The article also makes for a great read because it’s almost from an entirely different Broadway, where Jekyll and Hyde was still running, Ragtime was a recent memory, and a small pool of writing talent was thought to hold the key to Broadway’s future in their piano, a small pool which has greatly expanded and left a few great talents still treading water.
“Whatever Happened at Class” by Peter Filichia
Here’s an interesting article on a trip Peter Filichia made to a musical-writing class at a New Jersey university. Filichia has been known to be supportive of young writers, and his impressions on this up-and-coming talent pool is interesting, never condescending.
I love the article for its accurate depiction of the college student—questioning, harshly criticizing, living the same creative learning experiences every college student journeys through on his or her way to maturity as a writer (or whatever their course of study is).
I once read a criticism of young musical theatre lovers/students, I don’t remember where now, in which the writer was shocked at the gaping holes in the breadth of knowledge some young people had about the classic shows.
I think it’s important to remember that learning is a process. No CD collection is ever complete, no inquiring mind ever truly satisfied. For pretty much any young person out there wanting to study musical theatre with a passion (unless he or she is a performer), the learning grows primarily from self-directed learning, stumbling upon a production at a community theatre, seeing a random book at Barnes and Noble, seeing an old book collecting dust at the library. I’m familiar with many of the classic shows, but it has come through years of CD-buying and book reading, the likes of which I didn’t have time or the resources to pursue at the age of twenty. Even a movie translation easily available on DVD or video isn’t always fair game—that still takes resources to acquire and time to watch.
In other words, it just takes time to learn.
“What’s New on the Rialto: A Conversation with Annette Niemtzow”
Here’s a glimpse inside the mind of a producer, namely the lead producer for the musical adaptation of Jane Eyre. Producing is something I’ve wanted to learn more about, and this interview with Annette Niemtzow takes some of the mystique out of the process.
This interview took place before the show opened, and in it, Niemtzow discusses the journey of producing a musical. It’s particularly poignant, and no doubt typical, to hear Niemtzow’s excitement and hopes for a beloved show that ultimately closed deep in the red.
Happy Talk from the Rodgers and Hammerstein Organization
I used to get the R&H Organization’s newsletter when I was directing plays at a high school. I’ve since been thrilled to learn that Happy Talk is posted on the R&H Organization’s website. In it, there are usually profiles or updates on new productions of shows that are licensed by the organization, including the works of Irving Berlin, John Michael LaChiusa, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Adam Guettel.
Best of all, there is a search function which allows you to search for information in past issues.
It’s also worth noting that for most of the shows licensed by the R&H Organization, a picture is included as part of the promotional material on the webpage. If you need a picture of one of the shows they license (like Marie Christine), it would be a very good place to start.
My Links
On the side of my blog, you’ll find a selection of theatre-related links to check out. You’ll find the link to the American Theatre Wing’s invaluable Working in the Theatre Seminars. If you are attempting a career on Broadway in any capacity, check out their tremendous resources.
You’ll also see a link to Musical Writers, a site for those who want to write musicals. Be sure to sign up for their newsletters to keep up to date on available opportunities.
You’ll see the blog The Director Sector, where you can follow a budding director as he develops his craft and tries to figure out his path to a career in the theatre, not to mention his intelligent thoughts on the craft.
Lastly, off-Broadway producer Ken Davenport provides brief insights into the world of producing via his blog. If you’re looking to learn more about the business of show business, Davenport’s blog would be a great place to begin.
the Broadway Mouth
February 3, 2008
A few of these ancient texts are still floating out there in cyberspace, so I’m sharing them here.
“Spotlight on Jason Robert Brown” by Jonathan Frank
Here’s an interesting interview with Jason Robert Brown from 2000, before The Last Five Years appeared in Chicago on its way to off-Broadway. I love reading interviews with Brown because he’s always thought-provoking and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.
I particularly like what he has to say in the third section of the interview on the need for shows to have an existence outside of Broadway. The only show to successfully do this since the interview without a feature film adaptation has been The Color Purple. With the aid of Oprah’s show and Fantasia’s American Idol performance, The Color Purple was planted firmly before millions of Americans, keeping a show running that otherwise would have closed within a year. Yes, its time was greatly extended as a result of Fantasia’s turn as Celie, but the fact that it survived long enough for her to take part is a credit to that multi-media existence.
The article also makes for a great read because it’s almost from an entirely different Broadway, where Jekyll and Hyde was still running, Ragtime was a recent memory, and a small pool of writing talent was thought to hold the key to Broadway’s future in their piano, a small pool which has greatly expanded and left a few great talents still treading water.
“Whatever Happened at Class” by Peter Filichia
Here’s an interesting article on a trip Peter Filichia made to a musical-writing class at a New Jersey university. Filichia has been known to be supportive of young writers, and his impressions on this up-and-coming talent pool is interesting, never condescending.
I love the article for its accurate depiction of the college student—questioning, harshly criticizing, living the same creative learning experiences every college student journeys through on his or her way to maturity as a writer (or whatever their course of study is).
I once read a criticism of young musical theatre lovers/students, I don’t remember where now, in which the writer was shocked at the gaping holes in the breadth of knowledge some young people had about the classic shows.
I think it’s important to remember that learning is a process. No CD collection is ever complete, no inquiring mind ever truly satisfied. For pretty much any young person out there wanting to study musical theatre with a passion (unless he or she is a performer), the learning grows primarily from self-directed learning, stumbling upon a production at a community theatre, seeing a random book at Barnes and Noble, seeing an old book collecting dust at the library. I’m familiar with many of the classic shows, but it has come through years of CD-buying and book reading, the likes of which I didn’t have time or the resources to pursue at the age of twenty. Even a movie translation easily available on DVD or video isn’t always fair game—that still takes resources to acquire and time to watch.
In other words, it just takes time to learn.
“What’s New on the Rialto: A Conversation with Annette Niemtzow”
Here’s a glimpse inside the mind of a producer, namely the lead producer for the musical adaptation of Jane Eyre. Producing is something I’ve wanted to learn more about, and this interview with Annette Niemtzow takes some of the mystique out of the process.
This interview took place before the show opened, and in it, Niemtzow discusses the journey of producing a musical. It’s particularly poignant, and no doubt typical, to hear Niemtzow’s excitement and hopes for a beloved show that ultimately closed deep in the red.
Happy Talk from the Rodgers and Hammerstein Organization
I used to get the R&H Organization’s newsletter when I was directing plays at a high school. I’ve since been thrilled to learn that Happy Talk is posted on the R&H Organization’s website. In it, there are usually profiles or updates on new productions of shows that are licensed by the organization, including the works of Irving Berlin, John Michael LaChiusa, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Adam Guettel.
Best of all, there is a search function which allows you to search for information in past issues.
It’s also worth noting that for most of the shows licensed by the R&H Organization, a picture is included as part of the promotional material on the webpage. If you need a picture of one of the shows they license (like Marie Christine), it would be a very good place to start.
My Links
On the side of my blog, you’ll find a selection of theatre-related links to check out. You’ll find the link to the American Theatre Wing’s invaluable Working in the Theatre Seminars. If you are attempting a career on Broadway in any capacity, check out their tremendous resources.
You’ll also see a link to Musical Writers, a site for those who want to write musicals. Be sure to sign up for their newsletters to keep up to date on available opportunities.
You’ll see the blog The Director Sector, where you can follow a budding director as he develops his craft and tries to figure out his path to a career in the theatre, not to mention his intelligent thoughts on the craft.
Lastly, off-Broadway producer Ken Davenport provides brief insights into the world of producing via his blog. If you’re looking to learn more about the business of show business, Davenport’s blog would be a great place to begin.
the Broadway Mouth
February 3, 2008
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Every Story is a Love Story: The Great Romantic Musicals (Part 2 of 2)
And now I present Broadway Mouth’s Top Ten Most Romantic Broadway Musicals.
10. Parade—Even though they are married, Leo and Lucille’s journey forces their awkward relationship to change. She can no longer be a weak Southern Belle, and he can no longer be completely self-sufficient. Through their incredible life circumstances, they both come to love each other passionately. Because of this “All the Wasted Time” is a beautiful expression of their newly re-discovered love.
9. Bells are Ringing—There’s something irresistible about Ella Peterson. She’s extremely cute in how she wants to help everyone and manages win over everyone no matter what she does. While Jeff Moss is falling madly in love with her, it’s hard for us not to as well.
There is also a firm foundation in their relationship. They both need each other. Jeff needs her to help him write his plays, and Ella needs him to have someone to love.
Bells are Ringing has what is probably the most romantic line in any musical, when Jeff says to Ella, “You’re a girl with a lot of love to give. Instead of spreading it around all over the place, give it to me. I need it. I want it.”
That’s like “You complete me” long before Tom Cruise.
8. The Sound of Music—The film adaptation is the quintessential romantic story (and my favorite movie since childhood), and it is also the only case where the movie actually improved upon the Broadway show. But just because the film improves upon the romantic factor by adding location scenes (as well as additional material and re-organizing the songs) which helps create a stronger bond between the children and Maria as well as strengthening the bond between Maria and the Georg, it doesn’t mean that the original stage version doesn’t succeed independently.
There is something incredibly romantic about a love story that includes incredible children. It’s probably part of the happily ever after factor (or in love forever factor) which is so important for a romantic story because here we have one giant happy family when all is said and done. It’s beautiful.
7. Fiddler on the Roof—In our society, we value the concept of love and romance, and yet, we have a huge percentage of love-based relationships ending in divorce. I love in Fiddler on the Roof when Tevye presses Golda to answer, “Do you love me?”
Her response sums it up quite well. She sings, “Do I love him? / For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him, / Fought with him, starved with him. / Twenty-five years my bed is his. / If that’s not love, what is?” Despite my postulations on what makes for a great romantic story, Golda has pretty much summed it up—It’s the daily expressions and motions, the shared experiences, and the drawing closer together that is really what love is about.
The romantic story is also augmented by the experiences of the three daughters. While they are young, they each make severe choices in following their loves, choices rooted in cause and purpose, rather than emotion and whims. You can safely assume that each of these daughters will live with a measure of struggle but also with a life companion to share her pains.
6. The Music Man—You have a conman wanting to take advantage of a seemingly simple small-town woman, even going so far as to praise Hester Prynne for her scarlet letter. However in attempting to woo her in order to deceive her, he falls head-over-heels for her Irish imagination, her Iowa stubbornness, and her library full of books.
Marion is no foolish small town chickie, so when she accepts him for what he’s done for the community in spite of his con, she’s making a conscious decision and not one rooted in romantic notions. It is only when he changes that she really falls for him.
Above all, we love Harold Hill despite his con, and we love Marion for her stubbornness. You can help but cheer for them in the end.
5. Kiss Me, Kate—Here are two titanic personalities who clearly love each other deeply but can’t risk the gamble to admit it. Because of their mutual hard-headedness (or maybe their mutual insecurities), they almost miss out on their chance to have each other forever. Their song “Wunderbar” is beautiful for what it develops, their relationship when they have their guard down. “So In Love” then becomes icing on the cake.
4. Aida—Opposites attract, and when those opposites become not-very-opposite and fall deeply in love, it’s romantic.
Like many great love stories, it starts with the characters. Aida is a wonderful character, and her strength and determination is sexier than however the woman may look who is playing her. Though Radames starts out a jerk, his change is heart makes him a respectable guy (also, we need to remember his kindness to a young Mereb which attests to his inner nice-guys beginnings).
Because we are presented with these two characters we inherently like, we root for their love. It begins as something physical, but it becomes a union of similar personalities, a one-in-a-kind sort of love. Their love is deep, which is defined through several songs, most powerfully “Written in the Stars,” which is passionate even though it is about parting forever.
And yes, I can hardly resist the ending in which they die in each others’ arms.
3. 1776—Here we have a peripheral love story of a married couple separated by many miles, and yet, Edwards and Stone give us several very romantic moments.
John and Abigail Adams have a relationship firmly founded on mutual love and respect, which is always sexy. He huffs and fumes, and she picks on him; it’s a relationship that can only be formed through years of marriage and love. And theirs is a love that has survived separation and strife, only to grow stronger. It’s beautiful when Abigail asks John about the women in Virginia, obviously troubled by the months apart, and, knowing his wife so well, he basically says, “Don’t worry. These women can’t hold a candle to you.” Similarly, when he is in his moment of desperation and everything seems to be caving in, she is there to build him up as well. When she ends the reprise of “Yours, Yours, Yours” with the sending of saltpetre, the subtext of the action is “I love you and believe in you.” That’s more romantic than a kiss or a touch.
If most stories with romance portray the much-desired search for love, then 1776 gives us the love we hope to have forever.
2. Guys and Dolls—While it’s not written as a love song, “Luck Be a Lady” is probably one of the most romantic songs ever to appear on a Broadway stage.
First of all, there’s a romance that develops from dishonorable circumstances which could forever split apart the lovers (and almost does). Sarah Brown is a very sweet and passionate woman who sincerely intends to go great things. I would argue that she is a very modern character. Sky Masterson, while a gambler, is a respectable and honorable fellow. He does take Miss Sarah to Havana and even gets her drunk (unintentionally I believe), but he never intends for it to be harmful. After he realizes that she has downed too many drinks, he takes care of her and keeps her from harm or embarrassment.
When Sarah thinks that Sky has used her and leaves him once they’ve both fallen in love, the audience’s heart aches for these two who people who earnestly love each other but could be forever parted because of a misunderstanding.
That’s why “Luck Be a Lady” is such a romantic song, because of the desperation in which it is sung. Sky realizes he has screwed things up (with Nathan’s help), and this is his one chance to fix things up and get her back.
1. Jane Eyre—I know this’ll be controversial, but I can’t think of a more romantic story ever (and I saw the stage version before I ever picked up the novel, so I didn’t enter the Brooks Atkinson with any novel-based expectations).
It starts with two strong characters. Jane may be ugly, but she is one of the most beautiful women in all literature. I love how strong Jane is. I admire greatly how she refuses to give in to her passions because she realizes that it would betray her conscience and her sense of self-worth. I stand in awe of how she refuses the Rochester family jewels as a sign of her independence and her refusal to lose herself in the signs of wealth. I also adore Jane for her love of knowledge and learning and how that has shaped her view of the world.
Rochester, while certainly flawed, is also a very endearing character in how he treats his women. This complex topic could be discussed in a multi-page analysis, which I’ll forgo, but the fact that he has done his best to take care of Bertha Mason and to honor his wedding vows despite the difficult circumstances in a time when the insane were discarded and locked up under cruel circumstances is very honorable. And while he does attempt the dishonorable by wedding two women, his intentions are pure in his desire to keep both respectable (in a “what you don’t know won’t hurt you” way) and in violating only his own soul.
There’s also romance at the heart of how they meet and live. They both deeply love each other but cannot express it out of fear—Jane’s fear for her appearance and lowly position and Rochester’s fear of his dark secret and Jane’s youth. Then when they finally cross that hurdle, they are almost torn apart forever—each still singularly attached to the other—until a Providential intercession unites them forever. Their love for each other is rich and rooted. Even when circumstances change—Rochester is disfigured and Jane inherits great wealth—their love survives because it springs from their equality in spirit and intellect, their enjoyment of the company of the other.
It doesn’t get much better than this. It really doesn’t.
the Broadway Mouth
October 10, 2007
10. Parade—Even though they are married, Leo and Lucille’s journey forces their awkward relationship to change. She can no longer be a weak Southern Belle, and he can no longer be completely self-sufficient. Through their incredible life circumstances, they both come to love each other passionately. Because of this “All the Wasted Time” is a beautiful expression of their newly re-discovered love.
9. Bells are Ringing—There’s something irresistible about Ella Peterson. She’s extremely cute in how she wants to help everyone and manages win over everyone no matter what she does. While Jeff Moss is falling madly in love with her, it’s hard for us not to as well.
There is also a firm foundation in their relationship. They both need each other. Jeff needs her to help him write his plays, and Ella needs him to have someone to love.
Bells are Ringing has what is probably the most romantic line in any musical, when Jeff says to Ella, “You’re a girl with a lot of love to give. Instead of spreading it around all over the place, give it to me. I need it. I want it.”
That’s like “You complete me” long before Tom Cruise.
8. The Sound of Music—The film adaptation is the quintessential romantic story (and my favorite movie since childhood), and it is also the only case where the movie actually improved upon the Broadway show. But just because the film improves upon the romantic factor by adding location scenes (as well as additional material and re-organizing the songs) which helps create a stronger bond between the children and Maria as well as strengthening the bond between Maria and the Georg, it doesn’t mean that the original stage version doesn’t succeed independently.
There is something incredibly romantic about a love story that includes incredible children. It’s probably part of the happily ever after factor (or in love forever factor) which is so important for a romantic story because here we have one giant happy family when all is said and done. It’s beautiful.
7. Fiddler on the Roof—In our society, we value the concept of love and romance, and yet, we have a huge percentage of love-based relationships ending in divorce. I love in Fiddler on the Roof when Tevye presses Golda to answer, “Do you love me?”
Her response sums it up quite well. She sings, “Do I love him? / For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him, / Fought with him, starved with him. / Twenty-five years my bed is his. / If that’s not love, what is?” Despite my postulations on what makes for a great romantic story, Golda has pretty much summed it up—It’s the daily expressions and motions, the shared experiences, and the drawing closer together that is really what love is about.
The romantic story is also augmented by the experiences of the three daughters. While they are young, they each make severe choices in following their loves, choices rooted in cause and purpose, rather than emotion and whims. You can safely assume that each of these daughters will live with a measure of struggle but also with a life companion to share her pains.
6. The Music Man—You have a conman wanting to take advantage of a seemingly simple small-town woman, even going so far as to praise Hester Prynne for her scarlet letter. However in attempting to woo her in order to deceive her, he falls head-over-heels for her Irish imagination, her Iowa stubbornness, and her library full of books.
Marion is no foolish small town chickie, so when she accepts him for what he’s done for the community in spite of his con, she’s making a conscious decision and not one rooted in romantic notions. It is only when he changes that she really falls for him.
Above all, we love Harold Hill despite his con, and we love Marion for her stubbornness. You can help but cheer for them in the end.
5. Kiss Me, Kate—Here are two titanic personalities who clearly love each other deeply but can’t risk the gamble to admit it. Because of their mutual hard-headedness (or maybe their mutual insecurities), they almost miss out on their chance to have each other forever. Their song “Wunderbar” is beautiful for what it develops, their relationship when they have their guard down. “So In Love” then becomes icing on the cake.
4. Aida—Opposites attract, and when those opposites become not-very-opposite and fall deeply in love, it’s romantic.
Like many great love stories, it starts with the characters. Aida is a wonderful character, and her strength and determination is sexier than however the woman may look who is playing her. Though Radames starts out a jerk, his change is heart makes him a respectable guy (also, we need to remember his kindness to a young Mereb which attests to his inner nice-guys beginnings).
Because we are presented with these two characters we inherently like, we root for their love. It begins as something physical, but it becomes a union of similar personalities, a one-in-a-kind sort of love. Their love is deep, which is defined through several songs, most powerfully “Written in the Stars,” which is passionate even though it is about parting forever.
And yes, I can hardly resist the ending in which they die in each others’ arms.
3. 1776—Here we have a peripheral love story of a married couple separated by many miles, and yet, Edwards and Stone give us several very romantic moments.
John and Abigail Adams have a relationship firmly founded on mutual love and respect, which is always sexy. He huffs and fumes, and she picks on him; it’s a relationship that can only be formed through years of marriage and love. And theirs is a love that has survived separation and strife, only to grow stronger. It’s beautiful when Abigail asks John about the women in Virginia, obviously troubled by the months apart, and, knowing his wife so well, he basically says, “Don’t worry. These women can’t hold a candle to you.” Similarly, when he is in his moment of desperation and everything seems to be caving in, she is there to build him up as well. When she ends the reprise of “Yours, Yours, Yours” with the sending of saltpetre, the subtext of the action is “I love you and believe in you.” That’s more romantic than a kiss or a touch.
If most stories with romance portray the much-desired search for love, then 1776 gives us the love we hope to have forever.
2. Guys and Dolls—While it’s not written as a love song, “Luck Be a Lady” is probably one of the most romantic songs ever to appear on a Broadway stage.
First of all, there’s a romance that develops from dishonorable circumstances which could forever split apart the lovers (and almost does). Sarah Brown is a very sweet and passionate woman who sincerely intends to go great things. I would argue that she is a very modern character. Sky Masterson, while a gambler, is a respectable and honorable fellow. He does take Miss Sarah to Havana and even gets her drunk (unintentionally I believe), but he never intends for it to be harmful. After he realizes that she has downed too many drinks, he takes care of her and keeps her from harm or embarrassment.
When Sarah thinks that Sky has used her and leaves him once they’ve both fallen in love, the audience’s heart aches for these two who people who earnestly love each other but could be forever parted because of a misunderstanding.
That’s why “Luck Be a Lady” is such a romantic song, because of the desperation in which it is sung. Sky realizes he has screwed things up (with Nathan’s help), and this is his one chance to fix things up and get her back.
1. Jane Eyre—I know this’ll be controversial, but I can’t think of a more romantic story ever (and I saw the stage version before I ever picked up the novel, so I didn’t enter the Brooks Atkinson with any novel-based expectations).
It starts with two strong characters. Jane may be ugly, but she is one of the most beautiful women in all literature. I love how strong Jane is. I admire greatly how she refuses to give in to her passions because she realizes that it would betray her conscience and her sense of self-worth. I stand in awe of how she refuses the Rochester family jewels as a sign of her independence and her refusal to lose herself in the signs of wealth. I also adore Jane for her love of knowledge and learning and how that has shaped her view of the world.
Rochester, while certainly flawed, is also a very endearing character in how he treats his women. This complex topic could be discussed in a multi-page analysis, which I’ll forgo, but the fact that he has done his best to take care of Bertha Mason and to honor his wedding vows despite the difficult circumstances in a time when the insane were discarded and locked up under cruel circumstances is very honorable. And while he does attempt the dishonorable by wedding two women, his intentions are pure in his desire to keep both respectable (in a “what you don’t know won’t hurt you” way) and in violating only his own soul.
There’s also romance at the heart of how they meet and live. They both deeply love each other but cannot express it out of fear—Jane’s fear for her appearance and lowly position and Rochester’s fear of his dark secret and Jane’s youth. Then when they finally cross that hurdle, they are almost torn apart forever—each still singularly attached to the other—until a Providential intercession unites them forever. Their love for each other is rich and rooted. Even when circumstances change—Rochester is disfigured and Jane inherits great wealth—their love survives because it springs from their equality in spirit and intellect, their enjoyment of the company of the other.
It doesn’t get much better than this. It really doesn’t.
the Broadway Mouth
October 10, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Amazing Broadway Performer: Marla Schaffel
There are so many great performers whose talents demand shows to be written for them. It’s nothing short of a major theatrical injustice that Marla Schaffel has not found a role on Broadway since her tour de force turn as Jane Eyre in Jane Eyre. I keeping hoping she’ll be chosen to take Mary Poppins on the road if not replace Ashley Brown on Broadway when she chooses to depart.
Jane Eyre is an extremely delicate and complex role. As a mega-fan of the Charlotte Bronte novel, I must say that despite many Janes on film, Marla Schaffel is the definitive Jane Eyre (and the musical the definitive adaptation of the show to any visual medium). Scene after scene, Marla Schaffel pounded every nuance, every detail, every ounce of Jane into that show. She brought out Jane’s firm determination, her longing and anguish, her loving, beautiful side. This was not just a tough role—Jane not only sings in most of the show’s songs, but it demands nothing short of 110% of the performer for an entire evening.
I know many people were mixed about the show itself. The novel has survived over 150 years as a favorite of men and women alike, and Paul Gordon and John Caird’s musical succeeded in adapting its epic scope in a manner that not only felt complete but wholly satisfying. If people disliked the show, I have a feeling they would have disliked the novel, which, again, has survived over 150 years in continuous publication. Whatever people felt about the show itself, Marla Schaffel was universally praised for her monumental performance. Yes, there were many gifted performers in the show—James Barbour, Mary Stout, Elizabeth DeGrazia, Jayne Paterson to name a few—but Marla Schaffel’s star turn gave the show its heart and soul. When I saw her, you could see every ounce of her passion exerted for the audience’s sake. By the curtain call, I couldn’t clap and cheer enough. I tried. I tried really hard. But how can you ever fully acknowledge such an amazing performance?
In fact, I can hardly listen to her on the CD or watch the clip below without wanting to re-read the original novel again.
Some people fondly remember Ethel Merman in Gypsy, Mary Martin in South Pacific, or Angela Lansbury in Sweeney Todd. I, for one, will always count Marla Schaffel in Jane Eyre as one of the greatest theatrical blessings I’ve ever been granted.
Unofficial Website: http://www.currerwells.net/marlaschaffel/
Broaday Mouth
July 16, 2007
Jane Eyre is an extremely delicate and complex role. As a mega-fan of the Charlotte Bronte novel, I must say that despite many Janes on film, Marla Schaffel is the definitive Jane Eyre (and the musical the definitive adaptation of the show to any visual medium). Scene after scene, Marla Schaffel pounded every nuance, every detail, every ounce of Jane into that show. She brought out Jane’s firm determination, her longing and anguish, her loving, beautiful side. This was not just a tough role—Jane not only sings in most of the show’s songs, but it demands nothing short of 110% of the performer for an entire evening.
I know many people were mixed about the show itself. The novel has survived over 150 years as a favorite of men and women alike, and Paul Gordon and John Caird’s musical succeeded in adapting its epic scope in a manner that not only felt complete but wholly satisfying. If people disliked the show, I have a feeling they would have disliked the novel, which, again, has survived over 150 years in continuous publication. Whatever people felt about the show itself, Marla Schaffel was universally praised for her monumental performance. Yes, there were many gifted performers in the show—James Barbour, Mary Stout, Elizabeth DeGrazia, Jayne Paterson to name a few—but Marla Schaffel’s star turn gave the show its heart and soul. When I saw her, you could see every ounce of her passion exerted for the audience’s sake. By the curtain call, I couldn’t clap and cheer enough. I tried. I tried really hard. But how can you ever fully acknowledge such an amazing performance?
In fact, I can hardly listen to her on the CD or watch the clip below without wanting to re-read the original novel again.
Some people fondly remember Ethel Merman in Gypsy, Mary Martin in South Pacific, or Angela Lansbury in Sweeney Todd. I, for one, will always count Marla Schaffel in Jane Eyre as one of the greatest theatrical blessings I’ve ever been granted.
Unofficial Website: http://www.currerwells.net/marlaschaffel/
Broaday Mouth
July 16, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
No One Else but the Singular, Remarkable, Unique, or . . . the Jane Eyre Altercation
In 2001, I ended up making last-second plans to get to New York to see Jane Eyre before it closed. Let me tell you, I had bought the CD, and immediately, I was won over. I can still remember the stop light where my car was stopped, and I was listening to “Children of God” and thinking, “Wow, this is amazing!”
I’ll always be indebted to Alanis Morissette for saving the show that one week because it allowed the producers to keep the show open long enough for me to see it. I was finishing up my second year of teaching then, and the last day of school was the Friday after the Tony Awards. Jane Eyre announced its closing date the next day, and I realized that I needed to move my NYC travel plans ASAP. On Saturday morning, I was flying out to NYC. I saw Bells are Ringing before it closed on Saturday night, and I saved the Sunday matinee time slot to see the final performance of Jane Eyre.
At Jane Eyre I was sitting next to a woman who had seen the show seventeen times, if I recall correctly, and she was crying through the whole thing. It was an amazing show. I wanted to do the Stage Door Johnny thing (I’ve since stopped, though it’s been a temptation many a time), so I ran out of the theatre once the lights went up to line up at the stage door. I got there right away, and as a mob of people encircled the door, I was right in front.
Shortly after the mob formed, a woman with two kids pushed her way to the front of the group and planted herself right in front of me. Oh was I mad. But at that time I was a little less assertive than I’ve learned to become in the years since, so I didn’t say anything to stand up for myself.
Across from me there was a couple, perhaps in their early thirties, maybe younger. She was dowdy, her straight brown hair pushed out of her eyes, no make-up to cover up her blemished skin. He was just a dopey-looking guy, hair parted down the middle. Both were wearing solid-colored t-shirts and shorts. They had a stack of Jane Eyre Playbills they were waiting to get signed.
The dowdy woman was clearly annoyed on my behalf. With contempt she stared at the mother and said something to the effect of, “That’s rude.”
“Would you mind your own business,” the mother said dismissively, looking away.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to my dowdy benefactress.
“He was here first, and you just cut in front of him,” she continued.
“You know what, I’m here and I’m not leaving, so you should just be quiet.” She had a curt tone, with that New Yawk accent that gave her the perfect amount of “You talkin’ to me” attitude.
It went from being a little tiff to becoming noticeable to people standing behind us in the mob.
“We’ve all been waiting in line, and you just cut in line in front of everyone, and that’s not fair. You should wait in line at that back. You’re rude.” Pause. “And you’re ugly.”
Now them’s fightin’ words, and Mamma Hen pulled out the big guns.
Loudly she said, being sure to cast her eyes over the crowd of patiently waiting fans, “I don’t know what your problem is. I’m just here with my son and his friend who are in Les Miz waiting for their friend who’s in this show to come down with a poster she was having signed for them.”
After a few moments of silence, her little Gavroche stepped out and said—and yes, tears were in his eyes—“My mom is not ugly!”
By the way, for the record, he was right.
Anyway, the moment she mentioned Les Miz, you could feel the crowd shifting from general discomfort to awe that two Broadway actors were in our midst. One tween-aged girl ventured through her awe to talk to the boys, and Stage Mamma Hen even stepped in to offer her a backstage tour.
The point of all this was (kinda) that the dowdy couple had arrived at the Brooks-Atkinson after having left early from Bells are Ringing, which explains how they had gotten to the front of the mob even before I did. When I heard that they had been to see the show, I said something like, “Oh, I loved it! What did you think?”
“Well . . .,” my dowdy benefactress said with some hesitation, “she wasn’t Judy Holliday.”
I remember hearing that before I went to the show and after, such as in Ken Mendelbaum’s review of the CD.
Lately I’ve read about how Laura Bell Bundy isn’t Reese Witherspoon.
Let me tell you how much I hate that. And it is precisely the Bells are Ringing notices that got me started. I do need to let you know that I adored every second of Bells are Ringing, and the CD is actually probably one of my most-listened to Broadway albums.
Now, it’s entirely possible that when Faith Prince began the run perhaps she wasn’t communicating the charm that is so critical to the success of the show, but that’s also part of the magic of the theatre—that doing a part for weeks or months allows the performer to grow in the character. By the time I saw the show, Faith Prince was every bit as adorable and charming as Ella Peterson must be. I had fallen head-over-heels in love with Ella by the third scene.
I’ve since seen the movie, and Judy Holliday is wonderful and charming and all that jazz, but she doesn’t have the trademark on cute. In fact, I would venture to say that what I’ve heard of the Original Broadway Cast recording with Holliday, she seems lacking in that charm on that recording.
Judy Holliday is dead. There’s not going to be any more chances for Judy Holliday’s name to shine up in lights. She’s dead. Gone. So long, dearie, and heaven hopping.
And Marlon Brando is gone. And Kim Stanley. And Gwen Verdon. And Ethel Waters. And a whole heck of a lot of other talented people. But the scripts lives on. The music lives on. Yes, Ella Peterson was written for Judy Holliday, but . . . Juliet Capulet was written for a teenage boy. And yet talented people are still committing suicide on stages all over the world.
So, if we ever want to see this gem of a show again, it’s going to have to be starring someone other than Judy Holliday. I know that sounds obvious, but there were those who didn’t realize that in 2001.
Faith Prince will never be Judy Holliday. I’ll repeat that. Faith Prince will never be Judy Holliday. So what? Judy Holliday could never be Faith Prince. Bernadette Peters will never be Ethel Merman. Ethel Merman could never be Bernadette Peters. I will never be Oscar Hammerstein. Oscar Hammerstein could never be me.
If that is to be our fate—that our creativity and success is measured by those we are not—then I think we’d all best roll over and die.
I agree that it is entirely appropriate to say, for example, “Actress Jane Smith is lacking the sweetness to creating an entirely sympathetic Sally Jones,” but to say, “Well, she’s not as good as Wilhema Van Butternose” is futile.
And a work that is good—and Bells are Ringing is excellent—will survive for a very long time. Yes, the right person needs to be cast, but if you want Judy Holliday and only Judy Holliday, you’re going to miss out on so much. Sadly, when it came to Bells are Ringing, many people did.
So Charlotte d’Amboise isn’t Donna McKechnie. Donna McKechnie hasn’t cornered the market on extreme talent. I have a feeling that there a hundred people out there who could be a smashing Cassie. Charlotte d’Amboise is one of them. Good for her. I’m happy a true Broadway talent got the part.
Please note: If you were a potentially dowdy person who got in an altercation while waiting in line for autographs at the final performance of Jane Eyre, please understand that I was not talking about the dowdy person you are thinking or even the same final performance of Jane Eyre. If you refuse to believe that, then please understand for those other dowdy people who I was really writing about, I didn’t mean to offend or hurt them in any way by writing this. I just felt it added to the character development. In fact, I still am very thankful that they said something when I wouldn’t stand up for myself.
Broadway Mouth
June 5, 2007
I’ll always be indebted to Alanis Morissette for saving the show that one week because it allowed the producers to keep the show open long enough for me to see it. I was finishing up my second year of teaching then, and the last day of school was the Friday after the Tony Awards. Jane Eyre announced its closing date the next day, and I realized that I needed to move my NYC travel plans ASAP. On Saturday morning, I was flying out to NYC. I saw Bells are Ringing before it closed on Saturday night, and I saved the Sunday matinee time slot to see the final performance of Jane Eyre.
At Jane Eyre I was sitting next to a woman who had seen the show seventeen times, if I recall correctly, and she was crying through the whole thing. It was an amazing show. I wanted to do the Stage Door Johnny thing (I’ve since stopped, though it’s been a temptation many a time), so I ran out of the theatre once the lights went up to line up at the stage door. I got there right away, and as a mob of people encircled the door, I was right in front.
Shortly after the mob formed, a woman with two kids pushed her way to the front of the group and planted herself right in front of me. Oh was I mad. But at that time I was a little less assertive than I’ve learned to become in the years since, so I didn’t say anything to stand up for myself.
Across from me there was a couple, perhaps in their early thirties, maybe younger. She was dowdy, her straight brown hair pushed out of her eyes, no make-up to cover up her blemished skin. He was just a dopey-looking guy, hair parted down the middle. Both were wearing solid-colored t-shirts and shorts. They had a stack of Jane Eyre Playbills they were waiting to get signed.
The dowdy woman was clearly annoyed on my behalf. With contempt she stared at the mother and said something to the effect of, “That’s rude.”
“Would you mind your own business,” the mother said dismissively, looking away.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to my dowdy benefactress.
“He was here first, and you just cut in front of him,” she continued.
“You know what, I’m here and I’m not leaving, so you should just be quiet.” She had a curt tone, with that New Yawk accent that gave her the perfect amount of “You talkin’ to me” attitude.
It went from being a little tiff to becoming noticeable to people standing behind us in the mob.
“We’ve all been waiting in line, and you just cut in line in front of everyone, and that’s not fair. You should wait in line at that back. You’re rude.” Pause. “And you’re ugly.”
Now them’s fightin’ words, and Mamma Hen pulled out the big guns.
Loudly she said, being sure to cast her eyes over the crowd of patiently waiting fans, “I don’t know what your problem is. I’m just here with my son and his friend who are in Les Miz waiting for their friend who’s in this show to come down with a poster she was having signed for them.”
After a few moments of silence, her little Gavroche stepped out and said—and yes, tears were in his eyes—“My mom is not ugly!”
By the way, for the record, he was right.
Anyway, the moment she mentioned Les Miz, you could feel the crowd shifting from general discomfort to awe that two Broadway actors were in our midst. One tween-aged girl ventured through her awe to talk to the boys, and Stage Mamma Hen even stepped in to offer her a backstage tour.
The point of all this was (kinda) that the dowdy couple had arrived at the Brooks-Atkinson after having left early from Bells are Ringing, which explains how they had gotten to the front of the mob even before I did. When I heard that they had been to see the show, I said something like, “Oh, I loved it! What did you think?”
“Well . . .,” my dowdy benefactress said with some hesitation, “she wasn’t Judy Holliday.”
I remember hearing that before I went to the show and after, such as in Ken Mendelbaum’s review of the CD.
Lately I’ve read about how Laura Bell Bundy isn’t Reese Witherspoon.
Let me tell you how much I hate that. And it is precisely the Bells are Ringing notices that got me started. I do need to let you know that I adored every second of Bells are Ringing, and the CD is actually probably one of my most-listened to Broadway albums.
Now, it’s entirely possible that when Faith Prince began the run perhaps she wasn’t communicating the charm that is so critical to the success of the show, but that’s also part of the magic of the theatre—that doing a part for weeks or months allows the performer to grow in the character. By the time I saw the show, Faith Prince was every bit as adorable and charming as Ella Peterson must be. I had fallen head-over-heels in love with Ella by the third scene.
I’ve since seen the movie, and Judy Holliday is wonderful and charming and all that jazz, but she doesn’t have the trademark on cute. In fact, I would venture to say that what I’ve heard of the Original Broadway Cast recording with Holliday, she seems lacking in that charm on that recording.
Judy Holliday is dead. There’s not going to be any more chances for Judy Holliday’s name to shine up in lights. She’s dead. Gone. So long, dearie, and heaven hopping.
And Marlon Brando is gone. And Kim Stanley. And Gwen Verdon. And Ethel Waters. And a whole heck of a lot of other talented people. But the scripts lives on. The music lives on. Yes, Ella Peterson was written for Judy Holliday, but . . . Juliet Capulet was written for a teenage boy. And yet talented people are still committing suicide on stages all over the world.
So, if we ever want to see this gem of a show again, it’s going to have to be starring someone other than Judy Holliday. I know that sounds obvious, but there were those who didn’t realize that in 2001.
Faith Prince will never be Judy Holliday. I’ll repeat that. Faith Prince will never be Judy Holliday. So what? Judy Holliday could never be Faith Prince. Bernadette Peters will never be Ethel Merman. Ethel Merman could never be Bernadette Peters. I will never be Oscar Hammerstein. Oscar Hammerstein could never be me.
If that is to be our fate—that our creativity and success is measured by those we are not—then I think we’d all best roll over and die.
I agree that it is entirely appropriate to say, for example, “Actress Jane Smith is lacking the sweetness to creating an entirely sympathetic Sally Jones,” but to say, “Well, she’s not as good as Wilhema Van Butternose” is futile.
And a work that is good—and Bells are Ringing is excellent—will survive for a very long time. Yes, the right person needs to be cast, but if you want Judy Holliday and only Judy Holliday, you’re going to miss out on so much. Sadly, when it came to Bells are Ringing, many people did.
So Charlotte d’Amboise isn’t Donna McKechnie. Donna McKechnie hasn’t cornered the market on extreme talent. I have a feeling that there a hundred people out there who could be a smashing Cassie. Charlotte d’Amboise is one of them. Good for her. I’m happy a true Broadway talent got the part.
Please note: If you were a potentially dowdy person who got in an altercation while waiting in line for autographs at the final performance of Jane Eyre, please understand that I was not talking about the dowdy person you are thinking or even the same final performance of Jane Eyre. If you refuse to believe that, then please understand for those other dowdy people who I was really writing about, I didn’t mean to offend or hurt them in any way by writing this. I just felt it added to the character development. In fact, I still am very thankful that they said something when I wouldn’t stand up for myself.
Broadway Mouth
June 5, 2007
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