A primer on Sondheim's "Company"
For purely selfish reasons.
My all-time favorite musical is Stephen Sondheim’s Company. Do you have an all-time favorite musical? This is a safe space, I won’t Wicked-shame you.
Sondheim, titan of the musical theatre world, died in November. I hadn’t been in a Broadway soundtrack mood this past year—the drama of merely existing has sufficed. But, since Sondheim’s death, I’ve been playing the soundtrack to his 1970 hit, Company, again. The music has certainly been “something good” in my past week worthy of sharing. But, more important than delivering on this newsletter’s promise to show you something good, is my need to thoroughly explain to a non-musical-theatre pal why, when we go to New York City in the spring, we must see the current revival of Company. Saying “PATTI LUPONE” as an argument in-and-of-itself is only effective in certain circles. Thus, here we are taking a swim in the waters of a 1970 musical about marriage.
I was first introduced to Company in high school, when I had to choose an audition piece for the school musical. I think I went with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and still managed to get snag the role of Sharpay in our production High School Musical—the competition wasn’t stiff. What I really wanted to sing, even though it wasn’t in my register, was Company’s “Ladies Who Lunch,” written by Sondheim for the raspy-voiced doyenne of theatre, Elaine Stritch. If you’re unfamiliar with Stritch and love a brassy broad with a narrative arc, give her documentary, Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me, a watch. Here’s a great video of Stritch performing “Ladies Who Lunch.” You can fast forward to about 3:30 to get right to the song, but I recommend enjoying the opening, where she describes forgetting the lyrics to the song on opening night.
The smooth cha cha rags on the class of wealthy women who perform empty—if self-aware—busyness in and around their marriages. The wry, catty diatribe soothed my angsty teenage soul, placing in the crosshairs lives around me I did not want to live. I was surprised when I listened to the rest of the soundtrack and found an existential, vulnerable, funny, honest assessment of modern life and relationships—both platonic and romantic. The musical is wry and observant, but never cruel.
Company centers around Bobby, a perennial bachelor with a tight-knit group of married friends who alternately wonder why he hasn’t settled down and warn him against marriage. The revival updates the show with a female lead (Bobbie) and a significantly less white cast. Having received rave reviews and multiple Oliver (the UK’s Tony) awards for its West End run, Company was set to set to premiere in the US on March 22, 2020, 10 days after Broadway went dark. The silver lining was that a not-working Patti LuPone took to Twitter with a series of unhinged tours of her basement, complete with song and dance, setting the manic keep-busy tone of early-COVID life.
The musical is about the ways we rely on company, the presence of others, as distraction and salvation. The theme feels especially poignant given the dearth of company we’ve had to endure over the last nearly two years. The finale of the musical is balled “Being Alive,” a fittingly raw, exhausted acceptance of needing people, despite their myriad annoyances and inconveniences, to help us survive this life.
If you aren’t making up to New York City any time soon, there’s a great 1996 version of the musical on YouTube. You can find the original cast recording here. If you’d like to go even deeper into the culture and lore of Company, there’s an entire documentary about recording the original cast album. Come for the music, stay for the impeccable 1970s aesthetic. Smoking indoors! HUGE collars! That’s showbiz, baby.
Until next week,
Elizabeth