If I didn’t live a million miles away from New York and/or had a gratuitous amount of spending money on-hand, I would go see the current revival of A Little Night Music. Star-studded Sondheim alumni cast (first Angela Lansbury, now Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch) aside — though that would be a major selling point on its own, and by all accounts they’re pretty amazing in the roles — it’s one of the only Sondheim shows I don’t have a clear sense of in its whole, since I’ve never seen a production or read a full script of it. It’s also one of the Sondheim shows I came to latest, just because it didn’t have the big loud emotions that drew my high school self to shows like Sweeney Todd or Assassins or even Follies. Which is to say, there is neither murder nor overt emotional collapse in ALNM. Covert collapse, maybe; but my seventeen-year-old self didn’t pick up on that.
ALNM deals mostly in quiet emotions: embarrassment, wry regret, dry humor, bewilderment, unexpected joy. The characters keep their cool most of the time, which is part of their problem, and half the reason for the comedy that blossoms between them in the second half (repressed people alone on a country retreat together = hilarity!). In its humor and melancholy and romantic mix-and-match, it’s the show that most reminds me of a Shakespearean comedy. Which is probably the most pretentious way possible to sell the merits of a show (actually, that’s not true: I could have said it’s Beckettian. Which it is not.).
Send in the mediashare.