Sondheim on Sondheim Broadway Reviews

“Sondheim on Sondheim,” the revue put together by James Lapine from Stephen Sondheim’s songs, confirms enchantingly what we already know but can gladly bear such eloquent repeating of: that Sondheim is the best composer- lyricist we’ve got. To have it incarnated on Broadway by a cast headed by Barbara Cook, Vanessa Williams, Tom Wopat and five personable others leaves us, after two-and-a-half hours, only hungry for more. Every item in this expansive, diverse catalog seems to claim swift recognition: “I am a Sondheim song, and could be no other’s.”

Among other things, 'Sondheim on Sondheim' celebrates craft and collaboration. And just how much hard work goes into writing a musical. Consider Sondheim's reworking of the opening number for 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,' the first Broadway show for which he wrote both music and lyrics. It took three tries to get that opening right, and the inspiration came from Jerome Robbins who pointed the composer in the correct direction. And then there is the private Sondheim — much of the new video was shot in his East Side town house and we get a peek at where the creative process starts. Plus some rather extraordinary comments about his parents — particularly his mother — with whom he had, at best, a precarious, turbulent relationship.

Structurally, the show doesn't strain to draw parallels between life and art. But Lapine does find connections in songs and vignettes from the shows, however diverse their source material. Sondheim's words and music are, for all their intelligence and sophistication, most striking for their emotional fidelity to his characters and the universal struggles and joys informing their disparate journeys. Thus the frustrations driving Sweeney Todd's demon barber and the gunslingers in Assassins are as eerily accessible as the romantic obsession captured in the songs Losing My Mind and Not a Day Goes By. We're reminded, too, of Sondheim's capacity for tenderness and hope: Norm Lewis' soaring Being Alive is a highlight, as is the more fragile Beautiful, a duet for Cook and Euan Morton.

Lapine makes smart choices. There's a healthy amount of less-familiar material (Sondheim even sends himself up in 'God,' a brand-new piece of special material), and most of the cast aren't known for performing Sondheim's work. Combined with the decision to eschew chronology in favor of a thematic structure, the result is a continual sense of anticipation married with a welcome freshness of interpretation. Most important, despite the presence of stars—Barbara Cook, Tom Wopat, Vanessa Williams—this is an ensemble show that places the spotlight exactly where it should be: on the material.

One sometimes wonders what the notoriously exacting Sondheim privately thinks of the many revues and revivals of his work that come along. No worry here; 'Sondheim on Sondheim' is engrossingly entertaining and thoroughly captivating. An enchanting, warm and provocative opportunity to hear not only Sondheim's songs but -- literally -- the master's voice.

There are many fine performances of these incomparable theatrical compositions. Williams is mercifully irreverent, there is only one Cook, and, while Wopat only goes so deep, Lewis' take on “Being Alive” is formatively and emotionally magnificent. But they are not what stays with you. It is not easy for the performers to cohere as a throbbing ensemble, because the star of the show is not in the building.

It’s a light revue assembled by his longtime collaborator James Lapine, one in which the composer himself introduces most of the songs, VH1 Storytellers style, in onscreen snippets projected behind the performers. If you are even slightly inclined toward Sondheimianism, you will find yourself comfy and cozy here, but you won’t be challenged much either. If you’re a hater, you will likely find yourself only partway persuaded of his greatness. And if you’re really deep into the cult, you’ve heard all the anecdotes before—but I doubt that you’ll mind one more go-around.

In the world of American musicals he is indisputably the best, brightest and most influential talent to emerge during the last half-century. Even when his shows have been commercial flops, they are studied, revered and eventually reincarnated to critical hosannas. No other songwriter to date has challenged his eminence, and it seems unlikely that anyone will in his lifetime. It is even possible, if sadly so, that he may be remembered as the last of the giants in a genre that flourished in the 20th century and wilted in the 21st. But such brooding thoughts have little place in a discussion of “Sondheim on Sondheim,” which opened Thursday night. This is a chipper, haphazard anthology show that blends live performance of Sondheim songs with archival video footage and taped interviews with Himself. Conceived and directed by James Lapine, Mr. Sondheim’s frequent (and, to me, best) collaborator over the years, this somewhat jittery production never quite finds a sustained tone, a natural rhythm or even a logical sense of sequence.

Some numbers, too, are just oddly matched to their singers, or flat-out oddly conceived. The evening is full of high points that evoke, as such a show must, the broad panoply of Sondheim's gifts. Leslie Kritzer, Norm Lewis, Euan Morton, and Tom Wopat all make significant contributions. For a climax, Cook sings 'Send in the Clowns.' By rights, there should be nothing to complain of. Yet the show feels puzzlingly lackluster, like a last-minute birthday gift originally purchased for somebody else. I guess you might say it's the thought that counts.

The concept of the Roundabout Theatre Company's new revue, Sondheim on Sondheim, sounds like an overambitious senior thesis: Interviews with the composer-lyricist (some vintage, some newly recorded) play on a wall of LCD screens on stage, while actors perform his greatest hits, plus a few oddities and obscurities. But it's actually quite clever. Sondheim doesn't open up to journalists on a regular basis, so watching him work at the computer, his black poodles curled at his feet, or peeking at old photos (baby Sondheim, preppy Sondheim, Sondheim with a Dorothy Hamill 'do) feels a little like you're having an intimate chat with the master himself.

One would love to report that the performances were as transforming as the documentary. The cast is fine, especially the younger contingent: Leslie Kritzer, Euan Morton, Erin Mackey, Matthew Scott and, particularly, Norm Lewis. But, for all his likability and theater experience, Tom Wopat should not be expected to compete with the giants who have sung 'Finishing the Hat.'

Certainly, it is a joy to see Cook back on Broadway for her first musical in nearly 30 years. At 82, she continues to embroider her gossamer soprano with rich threads of longing, sincerity and emotional intelligence. But although Vanessa Williams looks as sensational as ever, her acting is not always up to the demands of the incisive lyrics. (Her account of “Ah, but Underneath,” one of the sharpest and most underrated Sondheim songs, nails the physical striptease but not the emotional one.) And Tom Wopat’s casual leading-man style is lamentably wrong for his big numbers, Sweeney Todd’s “Epiphany” and Sunday’s “Finishing the Hat.”

The unavoidable irony of any Sondheim revue is that his songs lose power and punch when performed out of context. 'Sondheim on Sondheim' is polished and well-intentioned, but it leaves you hungry for something more substantial and involving. Watching 'Follies' in its entirety is a lot better than sampling two or three of its ballads. But it's worth noting that 'Sondheim on Sondheim' is far, far better than 'Putting It Together,' which awkwardly imagined rich people singing Sondheim songs in a Manhattan penthouse. After all, isn't that what all rich people do?

For Sondheim fanatics, the video bits are musical-theater catnip. You see the master himself reclining in his office, sharpening pencils, explaining how he lets the libretto inspire the songs and, in a painfully honest moment, what a poisonous relationship he had with his mother. What emerges is a portrait of a tightly-controlled artist who approaches human emotion with a mix of mathematical coldness and deep empathy. But hey, this is more than a TV show, right? Unfortunately it is, and this is where the show becomes hit or miss. No question, there are talented actor-singers in the eight-member ensemble, such as the comedy belter Leslie Kritzer and the charming and funny Euan Morton, not to mention the lovely Vanessa Williams. Norm Lewis and Tom Wopat add manly pipes, and Barbara Cook is a national treasure. But unfortunately, Lapine’s overly-perky staging comes across like a Sondheim Glee Club or a corporate function.

Some blue-pencil editing would streamline the 2?1/2-hour show: Inferior material could go, like 'Ah, But Underneath' from a London version of 'Follies,' even if Williams sings it in her undies. Re-enactments from musicals are off-target, too. Led by Wopat, the in-your-face number 'The Gun Song' from 'Assassins' backfires. Even the venerable Cook, draped in a black shawl, can't make the odd vocal swoops of 'I Read,' from 'Passion,' click out of context. 'Opening Doors,' from 'Merrily We Roll Along,' is long-winded, and doing 'Franklin Shepard, Inc.,' from the same show, is just overkill. Among the best moments are Williams' glossy pop voice fusing with Cook's warm soprano on the hits 'Losing My Mind' and 'Not a Day Goes By.' Of the supporting players, Euan Morton makes 'Beautiful,' from 'Sunday in the Park With George,' just that, while Norm Lewis delivers a rousing 'Being Alive,' from 'Company.'

Any show in which Ms. Cook sings 'Loving You,' 'Take Me to the World' and 'Send in the Clowns' is by definition worth seeing, and some of the other performances, especially Mr. Wopat's 'Epiphany' and Leslie Kritzer's 'Now You Know,' are powerfully moving. Mr. Sondheim's recorded commentary, alas, is genial but less than illuminating—he never says anything that will surprise anyone who has followed his career at all closely—and I can't help but think that a show whose running time is well over 2½ hours might have profited had it been trimmed by someone not associated with the Sondheim cult.

Indeed, it’s cleverly withholding: We get just enough information to feel like we’re learning something about Mr. Sondheim without actually learning anything about him. We’re shown his studio and told he writes on yellow pads with soft pencils, but we don’t learn anything substantive about his writing process. We’re told he had a terrible relationship with his mother, but we don’t really learn how that affected him. We’re told he was confused about his sexuality at 35 and had his first serious relationship at 60, but he doesn’t mention anything—even the gender—of the person he met at 60. It’s a live-action A&E Biography, and it’s a dull one. But, hey, you can’t complain about the soundtrack.

The orchestra is too small and David Loud's horrid arrangements sap the life out of most of the songs. Doing 'Something's Coming' from 'West Side Story' and 'The Gun Song' from 'Assassins' in a lite jazz, Manhattan Transfer style is wrong, wrong, wrong. Unbelievably, a medley of 'Company' and 'Old Friends' is borderline barbershop.

The best parts of the show, ironically, are the interview segments, in which the erudite and witty composer provides an entertaining running commentary ranging from breezy showbiz anecdotes -- the one about Ethel Merman's run-in with Loretta Young is priceless -- to explications of his creative process to self-revealing autobiography. Anyone interested in the famously private songwriter will relish the opportunity to see footage of him puttering around his home, not to mention the close-ups of the bric-a-brac littering his office. Unfortunately, these informative segments are too often interrupted by the live performers on hand, who provide wildly uneven renditions of songs that usually fare much better. For instance, 'Comedy Tonight,' performed by the ensemble, is seriously unfunny, and 'Something's Coming' has the blandness of Muzak.

The revue, conceived and directed by Sondheim's frequent collaborator James Lapine, feels haphazard and uneven. For every choice moment like the ones mentioned so far there are jarringly disappointing ones, notably Tom Wopat's attempts at 'Epiphany' from Sweeney Todd and 'Finishing the Hat' from Sunday in the Park with George, and Vanessa Williams's lackluster 'Ah, But Underneath' from Follies. The material is presented in no particular order, skipping around chronologically and thematically; some important themes of Sondheim's work are virtually unrepresented here, especially his wit. Where are the funny songs like 'Impossible' or 'Barcelona' or 'I Never Do Anything Twice'? The Sondheim shown here is resolutely serious and melancholy; the only real laugh in the show comes from a naughty anecdote about Ethel Merman.