Musicals

Nov / Dec 2013

3 The Sound of Music

4 Fiddler on the Roof

6 Singing in the Rain

8 Young Man With a Horn

10 Phantom of the Opera

12 Jane Eyre

14 My Fair Lady

16 West Side Story

18 Carousel

20 Once

22 Meet Me in St. Louis

24 Seven Brides For Seven Brothers

26 The Band Wagon

28 Wicked!

30 Peter Pan

www.charitysplace.com

MUSICALS have a way of touching our souls,

and becoming part of our identity in ways no

other medium can. Music transcends mere

dialogue and speaks directly to the heart. The

musicals we grew up with influence our taste as

adults. Many of us were raised on more music-

driven stories than we realize… after all, the

Disney animated classics are all musicals!

The musical went through a popular stage in the

late forties and early fifties, then fell out of

public interest for several decades… but once

again has become popular. Broadway continues

to turn out astounding musicals based on

original ideas and literature. Wicked! tells the

story of how the Wicked Witch became evil in

The Wizard of Oz. Jane Austen, Charlotte

Brontë, and even Charles Dickens have all had

musical Broadway adaptations of their work.

There are sleazy musicals, romantic musicals,

and musicals that don‘t fit anywhere except in

the admiration of their audience.

I grew up on many of the musicals included in

this issue of Femnista, and discovered others as

an adult. It‘s our hope that reading through this

issue will bring back fond memories for you

and maybe introduce you to one or two

musicals that you haven‘t heard yet. Enjoy!

XOXO, Charity

Nov 13: Hannah ● Nov 28: Camille Dec 30: Veronica

A.G. Porter

The Shadow

Rayna‘s dreams are coming true...

Kindle & Paperback

Charity Bishop

Thornewicke

What lurks in the Northern Woods?

Kindle & Paperback

Watching The Lord of the Rings

With God: Kindle & Paperback

I, Claudia: Kindle & Paperback

We didn‘t go to plays, if the car radio started

playing opera it was swiftly turned off and, to

be honest, I inherited a hatred of singing when

there ought to be talk. There was, however, one

exception to the rule: The Sound of Music. The

film depicting the story of the girl who wasn‘t a

very good nun bringing love and laughter to a

group of neglected siblings was a favorite for me.

Maria was my idol and her beautiful voice could

often be heard in the house as I sat enthralled by

her whimsical songs. I dreamt of visiting the

Austrian hills and towns I saw in the movie and

wished for an entire wardrobe of dirndl inspired

dresses.

The story follows Maria, a young woman always

late for chapel, as she becomes a governess to seven

wealthy von Trapp children whose stern father has

set very strict household rules. Based on a true

story, Maria teaches the children to sing and shows

their father how important it is to truly love and

value them. The lovely, peaceful scenes soon

become overshadowed by the threat of war with

Germany and the family is eventually forced to flee

Austria to seek safety. Through it all Maria proves

to be an example of a beautiful and courageous

person.

Maria was a beloved heroine not only to me but also

many of my friends. We could dance the ―Landler‖

and prided ourselves on being able to sing all of the

songs. I can remember once finding out that a close

friend had never had the pleasure of viewing The

Sound of Music. This was seen as something of an

outrage by my mother and was immediately dealt

with. I was able to enjoy sharing it with my friend

just a few days later. I can still see her sitting cross

By Caroline Freeman

legged on the floor of our play room, her eyes

glued to the screen.

Now my copy of the film has been passed down to

my younger sisters and they love it just as much as

I do. One day, after having watched both The

Sound of Music and The Black Arrow in the same

week, I found them playing at being chased by the

Nazis and having to hide in the castle moat! It‘s

such fun to watch them doing the same sorts of

things I enjoyed when I was younger and hearing

their sweet voices raised in the anthem of The

Sound of Music. ♥

I didn’t watch many musicals growing up. My parents didn‘t enjoy

anything where speech was replaced by

song.

3

They give us songs that provide escape from the

trials of our world. Musicals of the Chitty-Chitty

Bang Bang variety and most of the Rogers and

Hammerstein productions are escape musicals,

places of lovely frolicking and relaxation. Then

there are the musicals that tread the line between

fantasy and reality. They explore complex themes

and ask hard questions, while striking a chord in the

human soul through the music. Fiddler on the Roof

is one such of these. It jumps between the harsh

reality of a persecuted people, while alternating

Musicals are often fantasies… blissful, beautiful fantasy. I love their

ability to allow us to dream about what

might be or to enlarge the “epic-ness”

of the current moment.

moments of comedic relief and outbursts of love of

life. What I love about Fiddler is the genuineness

of human emotions displayed throughout. Even as

the music soars, a fine thread of authenticity is

present to keep us grounded to the plight of the

Jewish peasant in pre-World War I Russia.

Even the ―young maiden love song‖ of Fiddler has

a twist differing from most musicals where a pretty

young heroine sings a solo while dreaming of her

blemish-free future (consider Jane Powell in Seven

Brides for Seven Brothers serenading about her

future while birds grace the trees and her groom

looks on). In ―Matchmaker,‖ Hodel and Chava

dream about prosperous, handsome husbands

waiting to sweep them into matrimony… until the

second verse when their older sister Tzeitel

quickly brings them back to the dark possibility

By Camille Gaffney

5

that they could be locked into loveless marriages.

Their family‘s economic status and the matchmaking

process practically ensure that only old, worn men

are available for matching. The irony of ―playing

with matches a girl can get burned‖ is not lost on the

audience. Often in Fiddler, you will find that

everyone is singing, but the topics can

venture into sober territory.

For a moment, Tevye,

the patriarch of our

story, merrily stomps

around the barn in ―If

I Were a Rich Man.‖

We‘re entertained and

ready to stomp

around our kitchens;

as the story unfolds,

we recognize none of

his aspirations will be

achieved soon. His

daydreams of

servants, livestock,

and a conspicuous

seat in the synagogue,

are just that—dreams.

Shortly he‘ll have to

leave his beloved home with only

the belongings that can be carried or

pulled by horse cart.

While the film doesn‘t gloss over the harsh realities

of life for our Jewish family, it also doesn‘t let too

much negativity overpower it. Anti-Semitism spreads

long shadows over the Russian village of Anatevka,

yet Tevye and his family keep attempting to ―scratch

out a pleasant, simple tune‖ of a life. At points, it

appears the message of the film is to exhibit joy in

spite of obstacles. In the celebratory song ―To Life,‖

the village men rejoice with Tevye over the recent

engagement of his daughter. Between outbursts of

―be happy, be healthy, long life!‖ Tevye belts out

―God would like us to be joyful even when our hearts

lie panting on the floor. How much more should we

be joyful, when there‘s really something to be joyful

for?‖ He repeats the Biblical command God gives us

to rejoice in spite of our circumstances. The realism

and strength of the Jewish people is

demonstrated in the village men‘s reply later in

the song, ―and if our good fortune never comes,

here‘s to whatever comes.‖ They will continue to

press on in spite of their circumstances.

Lest you think they speak in drunken clamoring,

it should be noted that they make good on that

promise. When forced

to leave their village,

their farewell song

―Anatevka‖ features

remorse but also

acceptance of a

reoccurring theme.

Fiddler on the Roof

reminds us of the

resiliency of the

Jewish people, who

constantly are

requested to start

afresh in new lands

due to displacement.

Fiddler also forces us

to examine our

definition of love.

The ―free-love‖ culture of the 1960‘s and 70‘s

(when the film premiered) is presented with a

seemingly peculiar question: can two people

grow to love each even if there is no initial

attraction? Twenty-five years after his arranged

marriage, Tevye asks his wife Golde, ―Do you

love me?‖ After a few verses of contemplation,

Godle replies, ―I suppose I do,‖ and it appears

that even she is surprised by the revelation.

We realize that not all love is driven by emotion;

sometimes it is a choice to work beside another

for a lifetime. Since Fiddler’s major plotline

involves Tevye‘s daughters finding husbands

through non-traditional methods, I‘d venture that

the point of the film isn‘t that non-consensual

arranged marriages are a formula for marital

success. Rather, in our casual-dating culture,

perhaps we should reexamine what lasting love

truly entails. ♥

By Carissa Horton

It doesn‘t matter if the rest of the movie makes

sense. It doesn‘t matter if any of the musical

numbers actually fit the story. What matters is

that moment of pure genius when Kelly waves his

driver on, folds up his umbrella, and waltzes his

way through an absolute deluge of raindrops.

The 1950s was notorious for purposeless

musicals. Songs were tossed helter-skelter into

the mix with little care given as to their actual

importance in advancing the plot. As a child, this

never bothered me, but as an adult, I like a little

logic in my musicals, just a little. The reason I

keep watching Singin’ in the Rain is not because

of Cyd Charisse‘s dance number with Kelly in the

dream sequence (what were they thinking?). And

it certainly isn‘t for the blasé ―You Were Meant

For Me‖ piece with Kelly and Debbie Reynolds

that was filmed solely to show off Kelly as a

romantic lead. No, what I love are the moments

when Singin’ in the Rain achieves its goal of

being a brilliant masterpiece.

Some of that brilliance simply stems from the

casting choices. Donald O‘Connor and Jean

Hagen are two shining stars of the show that

nearly overshadow the actual leads. Anyone can

love the hero and heroine, but those secondary

goofballs are crucial to making a story work.

Have you ever seen anyone run up a wall, for

real, without any wires and strings or special

affects? Donald O‘Connor did it three times in his

In the midst of a rainstorm, a man kisses a woman on her doorstep,

followed by the most iconic scene in

musical history where Gene Kelly dances

in the rain.

hilarious ―Make ‗Em Laugh‖ number that never

fails to tickle my funny bone. And despite the

stupidity of the ―Moses Supposes‖ number, it

showcases O‘Connor‘s and Kelly‘s talent so

completely that it is my top favorite number in

the entire film.

As for Jean Hagen, this is Lina Lamont we‘re

talking about here. She is the anti-heroine of the

story; the harsh, grating Hollywood starlet

contending with the wide-eyed innocence of

Debbie Reynolds‘ Kathy Selden. Don‘t get me

wrong. I love Reynolds. She is a pure delight to

watch, particularly her first encounter with Don

Lockwood where she mistakes him for a

criminal. But it is Jean Hagen who steals the

show. When I think Singin’ in the Rain exactly

two moments come to mind. One is, naturally,

7

the rain number. The second is Lina Lamont

screeching ―I make more money than Calvin

Coolidge… put together!‖

She is a conniving little

backstabber who truly keeps

one of the finest musicals of

all time from being

altogether bland and boring.

Without Lina or

O‘Connor‘s character

Cosmo Brown, there

would be no movie, at

least, no movie to speak

of.

Overall, there is no

important revelation to

be culled from Singin’ in

the Rain. Talkies have

come on the scene of

Hollywood and it‘s time for

the film industry to change

with the times, taking Don

Lockwood, Cosmo Brown,

and Kathy Selden along

with it while leaving Lina

Lamont in the dust.

Actually, I think that‘s one

reason why I like Lina best of all the characters.

Sure, she‘s a bit of a spoiled brat, but the spoiled

brats of the entertainment world make movies,

well, fun. Isn‘t that their purpose? So, while she is

a backstabber, I also grieve to think of her

disgrace. After all while everyone else is singing

ballads or dancing in bizarre dream sequences, she

is making me laugh. She‘s someone normal,

surrounded by people launching into song at the

drop of a hat. Truly, Jean Hagen is the secret to

Singin’ in the Rain’s success. Gene Kelly and

Debbie Reynolds played themselves. I‘ve never

seen Gene Kelly play anyone other than himself,

and I‘m fine with that because I love him, but Jean

Hagen is a brilliant actress who played a terrible

one with a screechy voice that reminds me of nails

on a chalkboard. She stepped outside herself and

became somebody else entirely. Maybe that‘s

why Hagen was nominated for best supporting

actress at the Oscars

for Lina Lamont. She

didn‘t win, but none of

the other actors were

nominated… just her.

In some ways it feels

like the writers threw a

bit of everything at the

script. Bits and pieces

of songs and dialogue

stuck to the canvas,

and what didn‘t make

sense, they decided to

use anyway as a splash

of extra color. Sure, I

might wish that some

of those musical

numbers had been

chopped to leave more

room for the actual

plot, but beggars can‘t

be choosers. What I

see is what I get, so

I‘m left with the choice

of either never

watching Singin’ in the Rain or taking it along

with all its extra weight. I‘m good with the

latter choice, thank you very much. If I wasn‘t,

then I would miss out on some of my favorite

dance routines, quotable moments, and songs

in all of musical history. While Singin’ in the

Rain might not be perfect, its moments of

sheer genius overpower the weirdness of a

geeky Gene Kelly making like George Jetson

on a moving walkway. Lucky for the writers,

Kelly‘s rain sequence won my teenage heart

so completely all those years ago that nothing

will make me give up my absurd infatuation

with a musical that, in the long run, really

makes no sense at all.

Ah well, love is blind. ♥

Rarely, does anyone expect a meaty, hard-hitting,

incredibly-acted drama to fall within the musical

genre. Yet, with 1950's Young Man with a Horn

that is exactly what we get—a powerful drama,

brilliant acting, and terrific music, all without one

bit of fluff. Starring Kirk Douglas, Lauren Bacall,

and Doris Day, this Michael Curtiz-directed film

is not only loaded with music, it has a riveting

plot brought to life through sensational acting,

especially that of Kirk Douglas. Featuring Hoagy

Carmichael and Juano Hernandez in supporting

I’m not a betting person,

but if I was, I‘d wager that when the vast

majority of people think about musicals,

it‘s warm, fuzzy, feel-good romantic

comedies which come to their mind.

roles, Young Man with a Horn is easily a 4-star,

―like it a lot‖ film for me.

Rather neglected by the older sister who has

been raising him since his mother died, little

Rick Martin (Orley Lindgren) finds what he's

looking for in music. Fascinated by the piano in

a local mission church, Rick teaches himself to

play by ear. Before long, though, needing a

more affordable instrument (and, unlike the

piano, one he can carry with him), he transfers

his interest to the trumpet; under the tutelage of

blues musician, Art Hazzard (Juano Hernandez),

Rick quickly masters the beautiful brass piece.

As the years go by and young Rick becomes a

man (Douglas), his love for music becomes his

all in all. He's a passionate, intense man, not

By Patti G.

9

much interested in having friends or a social life…

just in hitting a note that has never been hit before.

Landing a job in a dance orchestra, he has a hard

time adhering to the rigid rules of the bandleader,

desiring instead to shake things

up a bit with some jazzier tunes.

The band's singer, Jo Jordan

(Day), and piano man, Smoke

Willoughby (Hoagy

Carmichael), are able to

look past Rick's driven,

hard-to-get-along-with

personality to become

good friends with him.

When Rick's

rebellious ways get

him fired from the

band, Jo helps him

land another gig;

however, Rick's passion

for his music and his

desire to do something

that has never been done

before continue to consume

him.

After getting involved with and

marrying a troubled medical

student (Bacall), Rick's life and career spiral

downward, ultimately taking him to rock bottom.

Only with the love and support of true friends, Jo

and Smoke, will this tortured soul be able to pull

himself up from the gutter and get his life in order.

How it all plays out is the balance of the film.

Young Man with a Horn is a completely riveting

film and it provides an opportunity to hear the

lovely voice of Doris Day perform four different

numbers. Kirk Douglas's acting is absolutely

sensational. Up until about a year ago, I would

have said that I didn't much care for Mr. Douglas.

Since that time, though, I've seen a few of his films

(including two which were among my 5-star film

discoveries of last year), and I have been

completely blown away by the performance he

routinely gives. With my appreciation for

Douglas having grown by leaps and bounds,

I've recently begun including him on my

favorite actor list. Here, he is so into the role

that there are times the

obsessive glint in his

eyes is positively

maniacal—completely

intense and in definite

keeping with his driven

character. Although Mr.

Douglas's trumpet

sounds were provided

by Harry James, his

playing looked

authentic to me.

Appropriately hard and

cold, Lauren Bacall

plays her unlikable

character to perfection.

Miss Bacall was 26

years old here, which is

nearly impossible to

believe—she looks

significantly older, like

35 or 40! Doris Day is

her usual lovely self and

is very solid in her role

as well; having a chance to hear her sing is

always a delight. And Juano Hernandez is

wonderful! I loved his character, and I think

Juano brought him to life beautifully. The

music of the film is the icing on the cake—

there is lots of it, and it is terrific, all made

available in a separate soundtrack.

Since it‘s now out on DVD, Young Man with a

Horn should be easy to track down. Fans of

Kirk Douglas, Lauren Bacall, Doris Day, or

jazz music ought to really enjoy this one. ♥

By A. G. Porter

Even those unfamiliar with musicals recognize his

name when it‘s mentioned. During his career, he‘s

won numerous awards for the musical productions

he has created and written for, and many of them

have stood the test of time, such as Cats and Evita.

However, his most famous work is The Phantom of

the Opera. He wrote the music and Charles Hart did

the lyrics with additions from Richard Stilgoe. The

original cast included Sarah Brightman as Christine

and Michael Crawford as the Phantom. It surpassed

Cats as the longest running musical on Broadway,

and became the first Broadway musical to surpass

10,000 performances on February 11, 2012.

Andrew Lloyd Webber

has had one of most successful careers in

musical theater history. What is it about the musical genius with a

dangerous obsession for the beautiful soprano that

captures the imagination of millions? Is it the

music, the lyrics, or the actors?

The Phantom of the Opera is set in Paris, 1881.

The Phantom, a disfigured musical genius, has

taken refuge in the Opera Populaire since escaping

from a traveling freak show. There he works on his

music and begins teaching the young and orphaned

Christine Daae, a beautiful and talented soprano.

When Christine‘s childhood sweetheart, Raoul the

Vicomte de Chagny, becomes the new patron to

the Opera Populaire and reinserted into Christie‘s

life, the Phantom stakes his claim on her, which

leads to a disastrous outcome.

11

To understand the music and lyrics of

the musical, it‘s important to dig deeper

into the two main characters, The

Phantom and Christine. The Phantom is

a lost and lonely soul. Like with most

geniuses, there is an underlying level of

madness that he can‘t control. He‘s

forced to stay hidden because of his

disfigurement (in 1881, differences

were not as well accepted in society).

Christine is his creative outlet and only

connection to the world he so

desperately wants to be a part of. He‘s

drawn to the world of light but

prisoner to the ―music of the night.‖

His love for Christine is twisted when

it‘s threatened by Raoul. He wants to

claim and control her instead of love

her. With lyrics like ―from the moment I first heard

you sing, I needed you with me to serve me, to sing,‖

and ―Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation,‖

there isn‘t any doubt the Phantom is completely

smitten by Christine. His love for her is actual love,

but he allows his madness, pride and fear to take

control and he ultimately losses her.

Christine is in awe of the Phantom when she thinks

he‘s the Angel of Music. There is a slight sense of

fear but only because she doesn‘t want to disappoint

him. We see this when the Phantom chastises her for

letting Raoul nearly persuade her to go out to dinner

instead of staying in and working on her craft. Her

eyes are opened to who her ―Angel of Music‖ truly is

through the terrible things he is capable of. She feels

foolish and betrayed that she gave her mind and soul

over so freely to a man as diabolic as him (―Angel of

Music… you deceived me… I gave you my mind

blindly‖).

She loves the Phantom on a certain level and proves

this when she‘s reluctant to help capture him. Plus,

she‘s afraid of what he might do. His world is dark

and dangerous; she doesn‘t want to go back to it, but

she doesn‘t want to betray him either. Here are a few

lines of song that express Christine‘s conflict over

her feelings of The Phantom: ―Can I betray the man

who once inspired by voice? Do I become his prey?

Do I have any choice? He kills without thought; he

murders all that’s good. I know I can’t refuse, and

yet, I wish I could. Oh God if I agree, what horrors

wait for me in this, The Phantom’s Opera…. but his

voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound. In

the night there was music in my mind. And through

the music my soul began to soar… and I heard as

I’ve never heard before.‖

Yet she is in love with Raoul, willing to give her life

for his. She knows he‘s a good man who has saved

her from the darkness. Her compassion for the

Phantom is what gives her solace when she decides,

in order to spare Raoul‘s life, to stay with him

(―Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have

you known? God give me courage to show you, you

are not alone‖).

What if Raoul had never come into Christine‘s life?

Would she have been attracted to someone else with

the same result? Perhaps the Phantom would have

made himself known to her and their relationship

could have developed in a healthy way. Is it possible

that Christine would have had time to slowly bring

the Phantom out of the darkness and into the light? ♥

Jane Eyre is one of those over-filmed classics.

Every decade or so, a new screenwriter tackles

the gothic romance full of insanity, devotion, and

a choice between faith and desire. Yet, no

adaptation has ever truly captured the nuances of

the book, except for a little-known, short-lived

(fortunately, available as an audio CD) Broadway

musical. There, audiences can find the richness of

Jane‘s character, her desire to ―wander,‖ and feel

her raging indecision over pursuing the wishes of

her heart and abiding by her moral integrity, set to

music.

Nearly every adaptation of this wonderful tale

removes the faith at its forefront, either

deliberately or in such a way that it is simply

under-played. As a believer who enjoys that

aspect of the book (it is, after all, Jane‘s only

reason for leaving Rochester), I find that difficult

to forgive. In the musical, faith is at the forefront

of Jane‘s decisions. She cries out to God on many

occasions, as does Rochester in the end, who

finds redemption in the closing lyrics, as Jane

says, ―we acknowledged with full hearts that God

had tempered judgment with mercy.‖

One of the most memorable songs is ―Sirens‖ and

its reprisal, where Rochester likens Jane to a

siren, luring him to a watery death if he can‘t

resist ―the darkness that invades my soul, it sucks

my blood, it takes control.‖ Jane saves and

condemns him for he knows in pursuing her, he‘ll

be damned. While Rochester sings of Jane‘s hold

over him, Jane sings a prayer for him: ―God, save

him if he can be saved, free him if his soul is

enslaved, clear the clouded refuge of his mind,

Have you ever despaired of ever seeing a ―perfect‖ adaptation to

one of your favorite stories?

quell his anger, calm his storm, let his spirit be

reborn, help him gather sight where he is blind!‖

In the reprisal, Jane considers running away with

him and whether she can live with the shame of

not sharing his name, while he tries to lure her

back into his arms. The reprisal continues as a

prayer, with Jane asking God, ―Lord, is this what

you would have me do, break my sacred vows to

you? Destroy the laws of heaven here on earth?‖

In the chorus, the lyrics reverse (―let me sail

away, and make this vow, that what my heart

wants, I will not allow...‖) and Jane flees her

temptation, unlike Rochester.

By Charity Bishop

13

Charlotte Brontë‘s themes of religion and

true faith are explored in the lyrical style

of different characters. Jane represents

the true believer, devoted to

faithfulness to her Lord above all.

Helen represents another selfless

kind of love, in her encouragement

for Jane to have faith during their

time at school. Eventually,

Rochester cries out to God and

admits ―the purifying flame has

washed us clean… [in a] miracle

of God.‖

It‘s only in the latter half of the

story that the subtleties of Brontë‘s

over-reaching theme are apparent.

Many of the lyrics are direct quotes

from the novel, so the foreshadowing of

Rochester‘s blindness is startling. He and

Jane reference his figurative blindness on

many occasions, in an allusion to his later loss of

literal sight. And when vocal references to

blindness aren‘t present, it‘s still a constant

undercurrent, such as in ―The Gypsy,‖ where

Rochester masquerades as a fortune-teller to

discern Jane‘s affections for him—and she can‘t

see through his façade, just as she can‘t see past

the larger deception that envelops Thornfield.

Even though the story is a serious drama, it has

moments of levity and amusement as well, such as

the duets with Mrs. Fairfax, who objects to certain

things only to be softened toward them with a little

persuasion. Even though portions of dialogue are

missing, all the most important plotlines are set to

music, which means the fullness of the story is

experienced, right down to Jane‘s unflattering

comparison of herself to Blanche as she ―pain[s] a

portrait.‖ It plays out as beautifully musically as

the book does for an engrossed reader; the music

transcends and enhances the emotion of the story

in such a way that we truly feel the intense

emotional despair in them both, particularly as

Rochester rages to the heavens over Jane‘s

departure.

Like many audio presentations, merely hearing

the music allows us to create a rich visual

world in our imagination, populated with

images from the book rather than specific

faces from various adaptations. Jane, for the

first time, is a passionate, emotional character

rather than stoic, a perfect match for

Rochester‘s tendency to become ―lost in [his]

pain.‖

Even though you may never see this musical

(except as a high school production), you can

still listen to it in all its original Broadway

glory, and that is a blessing, considering it‘s

the first and only adaptation that, for me,

captures the true themes, passions, secrets,

perils, foreshadowing, and emotional intensity

of the book. ♥

The movie had always been one of

her favorites, and she had a feeling

that I would love it too.

She was right. From the first time I

saw it—the first of many, many

times—I wanted to live in the

world of that movie. I was

entranced by everything: the music,

the performances, the costumes,

even the sets. (To this day,

Professor Higgins‘s house full of

overflowing bookshelves is my

idea of the perfect house.) But most

of all, I think, I was entranced by

the words.

Words—their power, their beauty,

and their importance—are, after all,

at the very heart of My Fair Lady.

It‘s all about ―taking a human

being and changing her into a

different human being by creating a

new speech for her,‖ as Henry Higgins (Rex

Harrison) says of his pupil, Cockney flower-seller

Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn). And then, as

Higgins discovers to his shock and chagrin,

realizing that she really is a human being, not a

mere automaton to practice his theories on. A

human being capable of attracting a man who had

thought he was above all that sort of romantic

nonsense.

My mom introduced

me to the 1964 musical film

My Fair Lady when I was

eleven years old, via our old

Beta player.

By Gina Dalfonzo

But I‘m getting ahead of myself. We‘re talking

about words—big beautiful words that I loved

before I could even understand them. Higgins‘s

gift for words lends him an attractiveness that

helps one overlook his arrogance and enjoy his

character. (Harrison‘s undeniable charm doesn‘t

hurt, either.) Even the uneducated Eliza, though

she can‘t approach his facility with words, has a

knack for turning a phrase.

15

I used to say the lyrics and the lines to myself in

season and out of season, savoring the feel of them

in my mouth. Take ―This verbal class distinction

by now should be antique...‖ Or ―She‘ll have a

booming, boisterous family, who will descend on

you en masse/She‘ll have a large Wagnerian

mother with a voice that shatters glass!‖ Or

―One day I‘ll be famous, I‘ll be proper

and prim/Go to St. James‘ so

often I will call it St. Jim.‖ Or

―How poignant it will be on

that inevitable night/When

she hammers on my door in

tears and rags...‖ Or the

rapid-fire dialogue of

Higgins and Eliza‘s

climactic argument in the

conservatory.

Much of this went right

over my eleven-year-old

head but it didn‘t matter.

I loved every bit of it. I

watched and re-watched it,

and memorized it, and

repeated it softly, over and

over again. This movie helped

give me a real love for words

that has stayed with me my

whole life.

How did lyricist Alan Jay Lerner know he could

get away with these sophisticated and intellectual

lyrics, with all their internal rhymes and antiquated

references, in a musical comedy? Of course, the

fact that he was adapting a play by the great

playwright George Bernard Shaw must have done

quite a lot to push him in that direction. Still, it

must have felt like running a great risk. Other

lyricists had written sophisticated songs before,

but no songs quite like these.

Lerner clearly respected and honored Shaw in his

work, although he deliberately went against Shaw

in bringing Eliza and Higgins together in the end.

And thank God for that, because any fool can

see those two belong together. The fiery Eliza

would be utterly wasted on Freddy Eynsford-

Hill (Jeremy Britt), her good-natured but

drippy suitor. In the published My Fair Lady

script, Lerner wrote: ―Shaw explains how Eliza

ends not with Higgins but with Freddy and—

Shaw and Heaven forgive me!—I am not

certain he was

right.‖

Lerner‘s

instincts were

spot on. Though

we see them

together at the

end, ready to

make up, it‘s

difficult to

imagine exactly

how the woman

-hating Higgins

and the strong-

willed Eliza

would break

down the final

barriers between

them and admit

to their feelings

for each other. But of course it must have

happened somehow, after the words ―The

End‖—there‘s no doubt in my mind about it.

There never has been.

I picture Higgins and Eliza, living

contentiously yet happily ever after in that

lovely house among all those splendid books,

with their quarrels and their reconciliations

enhanced and made transcendent by all those

delightful words. After all, if there‘s one thing

My Fair Lady taught me, it‘s that where there

are lots of big, beautiful words, there must be

happiness. ♥

Its popularity lasts over generations. Such a story

then becomes the basis for variations as culture

shifts. The universal and timeless aspects of the

story are retained as it is presented in a new way

relevant to the current time. Works don‘t get

much more classic than the theatrical works of

William Shakespeare, and his plays are among

those stories that get recycled and adapted as the

years go by. His Romeo and Juliet became the

basis for a classic in another medium. West Side

Story excellently transposes a Shakespearean

tragedy into a modern musical masterpiece.

As the premiere playwright of the Elizabethan era

of the late 1500‘s through the early 1600‘s in

When a story becomes a classic, the implication is that its quality has been

established over time.

England, Shakespeare needs no introduction.

Romeo and Juliet was one of his earliest

tragedies and was written between 1591 and

1595. The play details the love between teenage

Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet, whose

family feud lead to their deaths. Over the years

the play has been staged countless times and

numerous film versions have been made since

that medium was invented. The most recent was

released just this year. In 1957, choreographer

Jerome Robbins collaborated with Leonard

Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim on a musical

version of the play that would become a

towering achievement of its own, titled West

Side Story. In 1961, the musical production

became a film starring Natalie Wood and

Richard Beymer as Maria and Tony, which

would go on to win 10 Academy Awards

including Best Picture.

By Rachel Sexton

17

Obviously, the similarities between the two works

are many. The central plot of two young people

falling in love across opposing sides of a violent

feud is the fundamental characteristic that signifies

one is an adaptation of the other. Deaths of

corresponding characters also appear in each

work, and the thematic resolution of

the deaths of one or more of the

main characters healing the feud

for good is the

effective

conclusion of each

narrative. Also,

corresponding

characters share

the same defining

personality traits—

Juliet‘s Nurse and

Anita are both

boisterous, for

example. Finally,

both the play and

the musical do a

remarkable job of

presenting young

love in a way that

resonates with the

audience.

The differences are where West Side Story

really gets interesting as an adaptation of Romeo

and Juliet. The most conspicuous change is the

setting. The setting has been moved from

Renaissance Verona to the streets of ‗50s

Manhattan. Instead of two prominent families at

odds, the fighting occurs between street gangs, one

Anglican and one Puerto Rican, called the Jets and

the Sharks. This change lessens the involvement of

adult characters—where Romeo and Juliet had

many adults, West Side Story only features the

ineffectual Officer Krumpke and Tony‘s kindly

boss Doc. Small but important changes are made

to the plot as well. Tony and Maria don‘t legally

marry like Romeo and Juliet, but they have a

pretend ceremony that is just as serious to them.

Tony comes to believe Maria is dead not due to a

drug, like Romeo, but due to a lie Anita tells the

Jets after they treat her horribly. This heightens

the feeling of the tragedy. The most significant

difference, though, is that unlike Juliet, Maria

does not kill herself at the end. Somehow, that

feels like the right ending for this incarnation

of the story.

West Side Story being a musical is unique, and

what music it is! The fact that Bernstein and

Sondheim are the

minds behind the

score and songs

should give you

an idea of their

quality. From the

snappy opening

of ―When You‘re

a Jet‖ to the

stunning

―Tonight‖ and

finally the

wrenching

―Somewhere,‖

there isn‘t a

forgettable tune

in the entire film.

The songs have

permeated

popular culture in such a way that those who

haven‘t even seen West Side Story will have

probably heard something from this

production. Gap even did a series of

commercials featuring the songs once.

West Side Story is a masterpiece in it‘s own

right and as an adaptation of a classic work

Shakespeare is a major example of a writer

who crafted stories of such quality that over

time, they became classics. This leads to many

variations and adaptations as various cultures

appropriate the story for their own time.

Shakespeare has had this happen to his other

works as well, such as the musical adaptation

of The Taming of the Shrew called Kiss Me

Kate. No doubt West Side Story isn‘t the only

iteration of Romeo and Juliet the world will

ever see, but it is one of the best. ♥

By Hannah Price

I was expecting something along the lines of

Oklahoma or even The Music Man, two

other movie musicals starring Shirley Jones

that I had seen and loved. Truth be told, I

was a little disappointed at first. Now I can

see Carousel with different eyes, eyes that

can understand it much better after

journeying through other melancholic movie

musicals over the years. Carousel is a story

set apart from the other happy-go-lucky

musicals of the era. It deals with serious

matters like marital strife, abuse, death,

robbery, bullying, emotional scarring, social

ostracizing, and if you look at some of the

aspects in the original stage musical that

were toned down in the movie, suicide and

implied premarital sex. This certainly isn‘t

light and fluffy material.

The male protagonist and main character of

the story isn‘t even a likeable guy. Billy

Bigalow is a carnival barker, a man who

doesn‘t really believe in love or marriage but

manages to find both anyway with a girl who likes

to hang around his carousel. Julie Jordon is a sweet

girl who proclaims not to believe in love either, but

falls for Billy despite his gruffness. The two marry

soon after the story begins, but their relationship is

filled with turmoil right from the beginning. Billy‘s

boss, a tough business woman named Mrs. Mullin

who owns the carousel (and who secretly fancies

Billy), fires him when she finds he has married.

Billy isn‘t skilled in much else and cannot find a

job afterwards. He and Julie end up living off of

her Cousin Nettie‘s generosity. Frustration and

When I first saw the film Carousel (1956),I was surprised at

the serious tone of the story and the

dark plotlines running throughout it.

irritation fester inside Billy until life is miserable

enough for him to consider leaving Julie to return

to the carousel upon Mrs. Mullin‘s manipulation.

However, Julie‘s revelation that she is pregnant

unexpectedly sparks new life and motivation into

Billy. He turns down Mrs. Mullin‘s offer and

takes up a monetarily promising and dangerous

one from criminal lowlife Jigger Craigin. A

robbery gone wrong results in Billy‘s untimely

death, and he spends the next fifteen years

polishing stars outside Heaven‘s gates. He retains

his unapologetic and brusque attitude throughout

19

and refuses his right to return to earth for one day.

That is, until he learns that the daughter he never

met is in trouble because of his ―wife beater and

thief‖ legacy. Billy returns to earth to set

things right and give his daughter and

widow the courage they need to carry on.

Billy isn‘t a likeable hero throughout

most of the film, for his gruff and rather

harsh exterior hides his true feelings.

He truly does love Julie, fully embraces

the idea of being a father, has grave

misgivings about committing a robbery,

and is willing to set things right in the

end (even though it takes him 15 years

to work up the nerve). But those good

qualities can‘t quite outweigh the bad

persona he exudes. The main area that

should cause the audience to dislike him is

the fact that he a ―wife beater.‖ Much ado is

made about the fact that Billy has hit Julie during

an argument (a fact blown out of proportion by local

gossips). Julie chooses to forgive her husband, but

moves forward with understandable timidity and

fear. The story doesn‘t glorify spousal abuse, nor

does it skim over it lightly, showing the far-reaching

and generation bridging consequences. Billy‘s lack

of obvious repentance makes it hard to swallow the

attempt at reconciliation he makes upon his return to

earth.

The biggest tragedy in the film is foreshadowed in

its best-known song, ―If I Loved You,‖ a duet sung

by Billy and Julie. In it they sing, ―If I loved you,

words wouldn‘t come in an easy way… wanting to

tell you but afraid and shy, I‘d let my golden

chances pass me by,‖ referring to the fact that

neither has the courage to verbally express their

feelings in their time together. Julie manages to

choke out her emotions over Billy‘s dead body and

Billy reveals his love only when he is an invisible

ghost. In the midst of this tragedy comes the lesson

that we all need to express love, not hold it in. There

will always come a point when it will be too late,

sometimes long before we expect it. In the case of

Billy and Julie, they loved one another but let their

―golden chances‖ of telling one another pass by.

Perhaps they intended to let one another know

one day, but Billy‘s death kept all future

chances from happening.

In the end, Billy does get a last chance to set

things right on earth before passing through the

pearly gates into eternity. He gets to see the

daughter he never knew and miraculously gives

her the courage she needs to face her fears and

move forward with her life. Billy also sees his

widow one last time. Even though they never

speak and Billy doesn‘t let Julie see him, he is

still able to impact her in the same miraculous

way that he helps their daughter. Not exactly

theologically sound, but still a hopeful end to an

otherwise depressing story. Thankfully, there

are moral lessons to be learned by both the

audience and the characters despite the mistakes

the characters make, and just enough of hope‘s

light to keep the darkness at bay. ♥

No one can do everything, and everyone

must make choices that shape their lives.

As in many musicals, Once‘s protagonists

fall in love—but, ultimately, not with each

other. They complement each other very

well in personality and talent, but rather

than indulging their developing attraction,

they find that they work best as friends

who use their common love of music to

help each other find the love they thought

they‘d lost.

The story spans just over a week in the

lives of two musicians—an unnamed Guy

and Girl—whose interaction begins and

ends abruptly but gives them both the push

they need to find fulfillment in their lives.

Because music is such an integral part of their

characters, it‘s one of the first things Guy and

Girl share when they‘re getting to know each

other. They begin collaborating immediately and

the first song they perform together contains a

line that defines their relationship: ―Games that

never amount to more than they‘re meant will

play themselves out.‖ Even though they‘re not

meant to be together romantically—or even as

friends—forever, they help each other through a

crucial period in their lives before going their

separate ways.

When they meet, Guy works in his father‘s

Hoover repair shop, playing his guitar and singing

on the streets in his spare time, pining over his

lost love and not making any real progress toward

Once, an Irish musical released in 2006, tells a delicate

story of what happens when some

of life‘s possibilities are left

unexplored.

becoming the musician he wants to be. Girl, a

pianist and songwriter, is a recent immigrant to

Ireland and spends her time working odd jobs to

support her mother and daughter, who live with

her. She has befriended the owner of a music

shop who lets her play the pianos during the

shop‘s lunch closure, but she has no aspirations

for fame with her music.

By the end of the musical, Guy has gone from

fixing Girl‘s Hoover to fixing her marriage and

the Girl has helped him go from singing on the

streets to pursuing a serious career in music.

While Once differs from traditional musicals in

that the songs are sung by musicians in realistic

contexts, the songs are no less useful in telling

By Laura F.

21

Guy and Girl‘s stories. Guy‘s songs speak of

love and longing (sometimes humorously,

such as in the impromptu ―Broken-

Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy,‖

sung for Girl on a public bus when she

asks about his ex-girlfriend) and

Girl‘s songs speak of dissatisfaction

with her current life and the hope

for something better.

As they play music together, Guy

and Girl learn about each other‘s

histories—Guy‘s ex-girlfriend

cheated on him and so they ended

the relationship; Girl married her

daughter‘s father when she found

out she was pregnant, but has since

separated from him, leaving him

behind in the Czech Republic when

their differences seemed irreconcilable.

Guy still loves his ex-girlfriend and Girl

doesn‘t want her daughter to grow up without

a father.

Following this revelatory period, Guy and Girl

work together to create a demo album for Guy to

use when he moves to London to pursue his music

career. During this time, the plot plays with the

greatest possibility for Guy and Girl to become

involved romantically—Guy propositions Girl

multiple times, they‘re working together on a

subject they‘re passionate about, and they‘re

learning about each other in a close and intense

fashion. Each time the subject arises, though, Girl

refuses with some version of the line, ―I have

responsibilities.‖

Throughout, Girl honors her responsibilities to her

daughter and to her marriage but it is her

interactions with Guy that make that responsibility

something more than drudgery. His support for her

music (where her husband has been unsupportive

in the past) gives her the courage to accept the

artistic side of her life and attempt to have it

coexist with her practical side. By the time she

invites her husband to come live with her in

Ireland, she accepts herself more than she ever

has before.

Guy, on the other hand, has no questions about

who he is—he‘s a musician, albeit one who

can‘t seem to get past working in his dad‘s

Hoover shop. Girl challenges his heartsick

lethargy and joins forces with him to help him

make his demo. Once she moves him past his

inaction, he‘s able to take charge of his own

life and move to London with his father‘s

blessing, where he intends to pursue his music

career and to reconcile with the ex-girlfriend

he still loves.

In a way that is very true to life, Once captures

the idiosyncratic tendency of relationships.

Guy and Girl meet by chance—she hears him

singing in the street and stops to listen. They

work toward a common goal, but once they

achieve that goal, their lives take separate

paths. The story repeatedly underscores their

compatibility and how much they could enjoy

life together; however, their hearts lie

elsewhere in the end.

Because of her time spent with Guy, Girl gets

a second chance at a relationship with her

husband, her daughter gets a father, and she is

able to make music an everyday part of her

life because Guy buys her a piano before he

leaves for London. Guy, also, gets a second

chance at his relationship with his ex-

girlfriend as well as the chance to become a

professional musician. The script chose not to

make Guy and Girl‘s relationship ―more than

[it‘s] meant,‖ so it ―played itself out‖ with a

peaceful resolution for all parties involved.

The story leaves a lingering sense of longing

precisely because of its unexplored

possibilities, but seeing Guy and Girl go their

separate ways is refreshing, too. They were

perfect for each other, but they were perfect as

friends. ♥

Two hours of pleasure rejuvenates the soul. When

MGM and its new director Vincente Minnelli

conceived the idea of Meet Me in St. Louis, not

only did they wish to tell a coming of age story,

they wanted to take their viewers back to a

simpler time. An idyllic era before both world

wars, when family and friends were at the

forefront of a person‘s life, in the midst of the St.

Louis Fair of 1904.

It was based on a series of vignettes by Sally

Benson, inspired by Bensen‘s childhood of how

It is 1944 and America is in the thick of WWII. Faced with tragedies and

trials on the home front, people flock to the

movie theaters for a momentary reprieve.

her family left their beautiful life in St. Louis

and moved to New York City. As a visionary,

Minnelli imagined that movie should be

separated into the four seasons, marking off

each one with a painting that would come to life.

The reds would be redder, the blues bluer… it

wouldn‘t be life as it is, but as how the audience

perceives it to be. To make the set and

production authentic, Minnelli hunted for each

and every prop, from all pieces of furniture

down to the doorknobs, to ensure that

everything would be period correct.

The movie deviates from the book by shifting

the point of view from the youngest Smith child,

Tootie, to the middle daughter, Esther. While

the closeness between the two sisters is evident,

the movie became the perfect vehicle for Judy

By Veronica Leigh

Garland. She, however, had other plans. MGM

had permitted her to take more grown up roles

so she loathed the idea of portraying another

boy-crazy girl. As time passed, the

wholesomeness of the Smith family won her

over and Esther became one of her favorite

roles. Famous for her belting voice, the

story of the Smith‘s was transformed into a

musical and the scenes were linked together

by musical and dance numbers. Not only

did it further her career, despite their rocky

start, a romance also soon bloomed between

Garland and Minnelli and they married a year

later.

As the film opens, many of the cast members sing

―Meet Me in St. Louis,‖ a popular ditty written in

1904 to celebrate the fair. Esther notices that a

young man, John Truett, has moved next door.

While watching him from the window she croons

about ―The Boy Next Door‖ and invites him to a

party she and her sister Rose are hosting. Through

various schemes, Esther manages to be alone with

John after the party. Despite a few awkward

moments, they turn out the lights together,

silhouetting the attraction between them. The

following day on a trolley ride, as if inspired by

the jolly little trolley, she sings about her love for

him in ―The Trolley Song.‖All of her hopes are

dashed when her father announces that he is

moving the family from their beloved St. Louis to

the large and noisy New York City.

To make matters worse, John nearly misses the

Christmas Eve ball when he is without a tuxedo.

After much persuasion, he convinces the tailor to

open up shop late at night and is able to arrive in

time to dance with Esther.

Esther comes home happy and finds her little sister

Tootie by the bedroom window, looking out at the

snowmen she made earlier. Sensing her sister‘s

sadness about the upcoming move, Esther sings

―Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,‖ which

became one of Judy Garland‘s standards and a

Christmas classic. There‘s a funny story behind the

creation of that song. Hugh Martin originally

wrote the verse as, ―Have yourself a merry

little Christmas, it may be your last/ Next year

we may all be living in the past.‖ The lyrics

were so depressing that Garland demanded it

be rewritten. She said she‘d feel like a monster

singing that to little Margaret O‘Brien (the

actress who portrayed Tootie). Hugh Martin

put up a bit of a fuss until co-star Tom Drake

(the actor who portrayed John Truett)

convinced him to do it.

When the song comes to a close, Tootie runs

outside and hysterically destroys her family of

snowmen. Though Esther comforts her, and

tries to persuade her that they can be happy in

New York City, their father overhears the

commotion and is left with a perplexing

decision. The move to New York might bring

the family wealth, but it won‘t necessarily

bring them happiness. The viewer comes away

from the movie/musical truly believing that

home is where the heart is. ♥

23

By Ella Gardner

After all, no one really breaks out into song as

easily as they do in the movies. I have yet to see

anyone launch into a tune while out in the rain.

Oh wait a minute. I‘ve done that. Never mind.

However, no matter what mood I‘m in, I always

enjoy viewing Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It

isn‘t known as one of the more serious musicals.

It has all the unbelievable moments, and even

ridiculous and predictable dialogue you expect…

yet no matter how long I go without seeing it, I

can still quote it. It‘s just one of those movies that

one remembers.

I have to be in the mood

for musicals. The singing, dancing, and

sheer utter happiness is either a recipe for

warm and fuzzy feelings, or will trigger

my gag reflex.

How could anyone forget the tale of Adam

Pontipee (Howard Keel), the heavily bearded

backwoodsman who comes into town looking

for a wife? Once his eye falls on Millie (Jane

Powell), a sweet girl who dreams of her own

home and family, you just know he‘s going to

take her home. You also know that Millie will

be all for the idea. What Millie and the audience

don‘t know is that in addition to Adam, there‘s

Benjamin, Caleb, Daniel, Ephraim, Frank, and

Gideon at home. Poor Millie! What she gets

herself into isn‘t something I‘d wish on my

worst enemy. Who wants to go to a place with

seven disrespectful bachelors who are only

interested in a woman‘s cooking abilities?!

Millie doesn‘t care for this arrangement and

decides to marry the brothers off. She teaches

them manners and gets them gussied up, so that

25

they can meet six girls and fall in love with them

at a barn raising. They become lovesick and Adam

convinces the brothers to go down into town, grab

the girls, bring them back and make them their

wives. What ensues involves avalanches,

singing in undergarments, and shotgun

weddings.

Yes, I know. As I describe

the plot, it doesn‘t make

any sense from a rational

standpoint. Why doesn‘t

anyone put up a fuss

when Millie marries

Adam? Why doesn‘t

Millie ask questions

about his family first?

Do people really sing

songs called ―Going

Courting‖? Since when

do barn dances become

a test for who can jump

the highest and longest?

And that scene where Caleb

is swinging an ax like no

one‘s business… didn‘t anyone

teach him the basic safety rules

involving sharp objects?

Perhaps this is why the powers of MGM weren‘t

completely on board when the film came out. The

studio was known for the abundance of musicals

they released each year. In 1954, Seven Brides for

Seven Brothers was the only one scheduled. One

of the other standouts was Brigadoon, a fantasy

musical starring Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse. All

of the stars involved were considered box office

draws and the movie going public loved Kelly.

Sure, they loved Jane Powell and Howard Keel as

well, but Gene Kelly had the ―it factor.‖ So as Jane

Powell documented in her autobiography, The Girl

Next Door, MGM slashed the budget for Seven

Brides and transferred the money to Brigadoon.

But Seven Brides for Seven Brothers got the Best

Picture nomination—not Brigadoon. It is also #23

on the American Film Institute‘s Best Musical

List, while Brigadoon is nowhere to be found.

And it did well at the box office, unlike its

higher-priced fantasy-musical sibling. This

only proves there‘s magic in this film. The

different era manages to enthrall. The catchy

songs (try to deny it all you will; once you‘ve

seen it, you‘ll remember at least one of the

tunes) warm your heart. And the ending makes

you smile no matter

how hard your heart is.

I grew up with this

film. My family can

launch into singing

―Bless Her Beautiful

Hide‖ at the oddest

times. I can close my

eyes and picture the

ending without any

problem. It makes me

smile just thinking of

it. I‘ve been known to

sing the songs at the

top of my lungs while

jumping on a trampoline or listening to the

Pandora station at work. And that is when I

realize something: that is what a musical is

supposed to do.

Musicals are supposed to be predictable,

hokey and unrealistic. Singing about being a

June bride in your undergarments doesn‘t

belong in most movies—except in a musical.

Musicals give the characters license to express

their emotions through song and dance; in the

real world, we can‘t. Musicals give us a

chance to escape and if we don‘t, well, there‘s

something wrong with our viewing. I continue

to get older but I keep returning to this film.

One day, I‘ll pass my enjoyment onto my kids.

Clean, wholesome viewing is something to be

enjoyed, savored, and passed on. I‘ll just have

to remind them that when they‘re around axes,

they don‘t swing them around like a baseball

bat! ♥

By Ruth Anderson

As I grew older, I came to love the stage-born

genesis of the musical movies whose color,

romance, and joie de vivre were knit within the

very fabric of my being from childhood, when I

stood in awe of Gene Kelly‘s exuberant dance in

the rain or Fred Astaire‘s effortless elegance. I

have a special affinity for ―backstage‖ musicals,

Hollywood‘s attempt to peek behind the curtain

and reconcile the long-standing tradition of live

entertainment with the ever-evolving film medium.

The go-to musical in that case is Singin’ In the

Rain but there‘s another backstage musical just as

dear to my heart (if not more so): The Band

Wagon. It‘s arguably one of the sharpest analyses

of the musical form in its attempt to bridge and

thereby cancel out the disconnect between live and

recorded musical performances. Although only a

modest box-office success when initially released, it

has since emerged as a recognized classic of the

genre, a sharp, witty analysis of the genesis of a

Broadway musical as well as a tribute to and a

deconstruction of the Hollywood musical format

and formula.

The Band Wagon is a brilliant synthesis of script,

song, and stars, but the film wouldn‘t work nearly

as well without a star of Fred Astaire‘s caliber and

history in the lead role. Astaire is quite literally the

embodiment of the musical and its stage-to-film

evolution, having begun his career on the famed

vaudeville Orpheum Circuit opposite his sister

Adele, to stages of Broadway and London, and

culminating in a twenty-plus year Hollywood

Musicals have always been a part of my life. Some of my earliest

memories are of sitting in front of the

television, entranced by the color and

spectacle of a song-and-dance

extravaganza.

career, among which The Band Wagon is a shining

testament to his longevity and relevance.

The film opens with a shocking image: the top hat,

gloves, and cane that defined Tony Hunter‘s career

(and his portrayer Astaire‘s) are up for auction and

no one wants to purchase them. After two decades

in Hollywood, Hunter‘s career has ground to a halt

– a fact driven home by his reception in New York

being hijacked by the arrival of Ava Gardner on

the same train. But plans are in the offing to revive

Tony‘s career, courtesy of writer friends Lily and

Lester Martin (played by the effervescent Nanette

Fabray and the delightfully prickly Oscar Levant).

The Martins want Tony to star in their new

musical, but Tony has a bad case of stage fright,

27

having been disconnected from live audiences during

his sojourn. The Martins pin their hopes for funding

on Tony‘s star power and the directorial talents of

Jeffrey Cordova, a theatrical ―genius‖ currently

starring in a much-lauded revival of Oedipus Rex.

Tony reluctantly agrees, and is

quickly thrust into a comedic

musical disaster in the making,

as Cordova‘s concept of ―high

art‖ clashes with Hunter‘s

persona and the Martins‘

script, turning their frothy

musical into a heavy-

handed reworking of

Faust. It isn‘t until

Cordova‘s high art

version turns out to be

a spectacular flop that

Tony takes the lead in

reclaiming and

reinventing the show

and his career into the

type of show that plays to

his strengths and the

Martins‘ original vision – a

frothy, entertaining love letter

to popular music and the classic

song-and-dance man.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this

film is how liberally it quotes from its Astaire‘s pre-

film career. Many of the Arthur Schwartz and

Howard Dietz-penned songs were originally from the

1931 stage musical (and Astaire vehicle) also titled

The Band Wagon and found new life in Comden and

Green‘s script. ―Dancing in the Dark‖ becomes the

method via which Tony and his classically trained,

would-be leading lady Gaby (Cyd Charisse)

reconcile their disparate views on art and reach a

gorgeously-rendered accord via dance, no words

required. The folksy ―I Love Louisa‖ signals Tony‘s

acceptance of his role in musical entertainment and

his successful attempt to reconcile with the current

company and his past success. And finally ―New Sun

In the Sky‖ signals Gaby‘s artistic rebirth from

classically trained ballerina to star of the popular

musical stage.

While The Band Wagon spends much of its

runtime extolling the virtues of popular

entertainment versus ―high art‖ (i.e., Oedipus

Rex and classical dance), the film‘s goal is a

marriage of the two and a celebration of art‘s

ability to connect with its

audience, no matter the

medium. This synthesis is

gloriously celebrated in the

final act, ―The Girl Hunt

Ballet,‖ a jazz ballet. Where

An American in Paris

culminated in an epic,

sixteen-minute classical

ballet, The Band Wagon

marries dance with

hardboiled detectives and

dangerous femme fatales.

There is something distinctly

American in this sequence‘s

blend of classical dance with

the tropes of a noir crime

thriller, and is the perfect

capstone to a film that so

brilliantly deconstructs the

making of a musical via both

the stage and screen

mediums while celebrating

decades‘ worth of the industry‘s storied history.

The song ―That‘s Entertainment‖ was written for

this film and serves as an apotheosis of not only

The Band Wagon, but musicals in general. This

film succeeds in paying tribute to film musical‘s

vaudevillian roots while raising the format to

new heights of sophistication and innovation. If

all entertainment is cyclical in nature, as Jane

Feuer argues in The Hollywood Musical, The

Band Wagon is a glowing example of the genre‘s

ability to not only quote from its past, but

remake itself, celebrating its history while

looking to the future and in the process,

becoming a classic for the ages. ♥

By Lindy Abbott

Thankfully, I‘m over my do-not-open-the-cover,

fearful days of classifying things quickly as good

and evil. Wicked: The Untold Stories of the

Witches of Oz was warmheartedly wonderful; I‘m

so grateful I took my young teen daughter to

share this experience of musical art with me.

The musical is based on the 1995 Gregory

Maguire novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the

Wicked Witch of the West, a parallel novel to L.

Many wholesome, God-fearing folks didn‘t need to look deeper. The title

of the wildly popular musical ensured that

those who could never associate with

anyone wicked (much less dare to

imagine they could be wicked) wouldn‘t

give this worthy musical a second glance.

Frank Baum‘s classic novel The Wonderful

Wizard of Oz. Wicked debuted in 2003 and by

the end of 2012 it had played for 4,123

performances. When this musical production

toured for two years from January 2011 to the

last week of 2012, my daughter and I caught its

appearance in Nashville, TN.

I must confess that about a decade ago while

homeschooling I began to read Baum‘s classic

to my three little children. I was into the story a

page or two when my middle child asked, ―Why

are we reading a story about a witch?‖A little

taken back by my prophet-minded son, I stopped

to ask myself the same question (―Why am I

reading a story about a witch to my young,

innocent children?‖). Without a good reason to

explain why, I closed the book and moved on to

the next book.

29

My children and I both now firmly understand that

fiction is fiction—make-believe, magical, creative

and not the ―gospel‖ reality of the mirror image of

how we should live. So much can be learned from

fiction! And deep enjoyment can be

found in allowing yourself to be

enveloped with all your senses in a

world unlike your own. Anyone

who attended Wicked was

given joy with such an

fantastical experience.

Wicked tells the story of

two witches who are

parallel opposites in

personalities and

viewpoints: Elphaba

(the Wicked Witch of

the West) and Glinda

(the Good Witch of the

North) face the rivalry

of the same love-

interest, the corrupt

Wizard government and, in

the end, Elphaba‘s fall from

grace. Wicked was written with

the intention of making the reader

really think about what it is to be

―wicked.‖ This is ironic since so

many who think they clearly know what wicked is

and isn‘t won‘t dare to venture into the story!

―Are good intentions with bad results the same as

bad intentions with bad results?‖ is the overriding

question. Wicked opens with the story of Elphaba‘s

illegitimate birth conceived by the governor‘s wife

with a mysterious man fond of a green elixir. The

baby is born with green skin and thus shunned by

everyone. Many years later, the serious and deep

Elphaba becomes roommates with Glinda, a

popular, shallow beauty, at college. Through their

friendship, we learn to see goodness in Elphapa, in

spite of others‘ belief that she is only ―evil.‖

Much happens in this playful story before the end

(political upheaval, the back story of the Lion, the

Tin Man, and the Scarecrow, and the reveal of

Elphaba‘s father‘s identity). Both witches

must choose the path their life will ultimately

take. Is this not what we all must do in life?

Regardless of how our

story began or what

truths we discover along

the way, we choose the

path our life will take.

Our circumstances can

change us, but we‘re still

the ones who set our

own course in life.

The strength of the story

is in the friendship

between Elphaba and

Glinda, who choose

different paths but both

calmly accept and

understand the other‘s

choice and wish the best

for each other. The last

time they embrace, they

recognize that they‘re

two women who have

both made mistakes in

life and forgive each

other for all grievances.

They acknowledge that they are who they are

because they‘ve known each other.

Of course, all the drama ties so nicely together

in a fictional fairytale. Life (the reality in

which we live) isn‘t so neatly resolved. We

don‘t have warm-embraced happily-ever-after

endings to our complicated stories. And still,

we can experience the art of a well written,

scored and preformed musical with another

person and together make a new memory. For

me, sharing an exceptionally good musical

with my daughter is the reason Wicked will

always be warmly remembered in my heart. ♥

When Scottish novelist and playwright J. M.

Barrie set pen to paper in 1902 and wrote The

Little White Bird, he probably didn‘t imagine the

small character of Peter Pan who had only a few

pages of story would become so beloved across

the world. Of course, many know because of the

film Finding Neverland that Barrie's first stage

play of Peter Pan arrived in 1904, with an

expanded and adapted novel following in 1911.

The stage version would yield to the cinema, with

a silent picture appearing in 1924, Walt Disney's

animated movie in 1953, Hook in 1991, an

animated sequel to Disney's film in 2002, and

finally, a live action movie in 2003.

If you looked up this list, you‘d find men or boys

playing Peter's voice or the actual role, which is

now the norm in every sense. The exception to

the rule is the first film. The silent picture's Peter

was played by a woman, as was the first and

many following Peter's on stage! But that's not

all… you see, while plays can sweep an audience

into an unknown and amazing world, musicals

can add vibrant voice to the storytelling. So what

better medium is there for the epic tale of an

immortal boy who fights pirates and flies than as

a musical? The conversion crackled with life!

Mary Martin successfully sang the role in 1954, a

version my mother fondly remembered watching

on TV as a child.

Then… I found it. The smash hit Broadway Peter

Pan story/musical/movie to end all versions,

according to me, that is. Nothing can supplant the

vibrancy, the energy of Cathy Rigby's Peter Pan.

The way she swoops and soars, flicks fairy dust

“As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Darling were out of the house, the smallest of the

stars in the Milky Way screamed out: Now

Peter!‖ —Cathy Rigby is Peter Pan

on the children, converses with Tinkerbell and

the Lost Boys, and dances with the Indians is

like seeing the book come to life in front of you.

Perhaps it is more than the book, it is what J. M.

Barrie dreamed of when he put it down as a play

and fiddled with it over many years, taking and

adding elements willingly. It is not a story set in

stone, therefore music and singing is the perfect

addition, and the entire cast does a superb job. A

particular favorite is Smee, who is at least a

head shorter than Hook and does a charming

tarantella while plotting to poison the Lost Boys.

It‘s also one of the highest quality musicals I‘ve

ever seen, either live or filmed, on par with

ALW‘s The Phantom of the Opera by way of

sumptuous sets and props. The costumes make

the characters, rather like icing on a cake, and

By Caitlin Horton

one can‘t help but be awed by Captain Hook‘s

impressive red bejeweled coat and matching

feathered hat or Peter‘s oak leaf ensemble that

glitters with gem dewdrops. But above and

beyond, what makes the whole musical work

is the cast‘s efforts to be the characters.

Every person is memorable, down to the

mermaids who have a brief scene, and they

can all out-sing most pop stars of today. It‘s

as if someone opened the book Peter Pan

and Wendy over a stage, shook it and this

filmed stage musical fell out. It is exactly

everything one wants from Neverland and

Peter: a swashbuckling good time with a

positive ending.

Perhaps even more positive is what J. M. Barrie

did with his legacy. He left the rights to Peter Pan

to the Great Ormand Street Hospital, a children‘s

hospital in England. This hospital could collect the

royalties from the play and derivative works and

use the undisclosed income to further their good

works. By now, the copyright, at least in America,

has expired. Peter Pan is public domain and

continues to be a well loved story time and again.

But while it was fully held by the Hospital, it did a

world of good for children just like Wendy, John,

Michael, the Lost Boys, and even Peter.

Even without someone owning it, Peter Pan

continues to bring life to the world, as a story

where grown-ups can revert to being children

again for just a few hours and children can

envision a place where anything is possible. After

all these years I don‘t know where I fall in that

category, because I still remember that part of me

that jumped off a dresser and tried to fly at age six

(don‘t worry, I landed on the bed). I remember

clapping my hands for Tinkerbell to live and

repeating ―I do believe in fairies!‖ I remember

wishing that Peter Pan would come to my bedroom

window and take me to Neverland to be his

mother. And I remember it all as clearly as if it

happened yesterday instead of seventeen years

ago. Sometimes, you never do grow up, and all for

the better, too.

Peter Pan may never join the ranks of the most

artistic musical, the most cleverly written

novel, or the most exciting play, mostly

because there‘s always at least one grouchy

adult critic who will never like it, but that

doesn‘t matter. What matters is that musical or

live action film, stage or TV version, Peter

Pan is a story that will outlast the rest of the

―here‖ and the ―now‖ stuff because of one

singular fact: it‘s the magical story that urges

every person to find their inner Peter and

remember the fun of childhood. And what

better way to do that, I say, than to pull up a

comfy chair, make some popcorn, and pop

Cathy Rigby‘s fabulous musical into the DVD

player. You won‘t regret it, I promise. ♥

31

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Promised topics: Pocahontas, Aladdin, Atlantis, Mulan, The Little Mermaid, The Sword in the

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