Merrily is a Miracle

Merrily We Roll Along 

The new production of Stephen Sondheim’s musical Merrily We Roll Along, which just premiered at the Reginald Vaughn Theatre, is a reminder of everything that live theatre is, or should be, all about.  In a shoebox-sized black-box space on Thorndale Avenue, the Blank Theatre Company has conjured up a poetic miracle of a musical production, with hardly a wrong note at any moment from beginning to end, and with a wonderful surprise at its conclusion.  In a long lifetime of theatre-going, I don’t think I have ever seen a better or more heartfelt small-theatre production, nor even a better musical of any size.  

Sondheim’s 1981 musical, with a book by George Furth, and based on an older play by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, was a notorious flop when it first opened.  Since then, the play has undergone many thematic, textual and musical changes.  Its production history is so complicated and contentious, in fact, that the story behind the failed original production was the subject of a popular Netflix documentary titled “Best Worst Thing That Ever Could Have Happened.”  Meanwhile, the film director Richard Linklater is making a movie adaptation, scheduled to be released in 2040.  (That’s not a typo; as Linklater did in his movie “Boyhood,”he’s eschewing CGI aging techniques in order to film his actors, and the characters they play, as they age naturally over the 19-year period covered by the play.)

In addition to tracing a long and eventful period of time, Merrily We Roll Along is presented in reverse chronological order, no doubt another factor in its initial difficult reception.  But in the current Blank Theatre production, directed by Danny Kapinos, the backwards unreeling of the story is not only not at all confusing, it is essential to the spirit and the meaning of the play, which is about how people change, how unlovely accommodations and compromises happen incrementally and even unwillingly; how good intentions wither away; and how success and celebrity are so often inimical to happiness and contentment. 

Merrily We Roll Along is a story about friendship — in this case, the friendship of a young playwright just out of the Army (Christopher Johnson), a musician (Dustin Rothbart, also one of the co-founding artistic directors of Blank Theatre Company) and a magazine writer (Brittney Brown) who later becomes a successful novelist and then a theatre critic.  The three meet on a New York rooftop in 1957, as they watch the world’s first earth-orbiting satellite, the Russian Sputnik, glimmer in the night sky.  At this moment, a bond is formed, and the playwright and the musician go on, after a series of early struggles, to write a hit Broadway show. These early struggles and their first success are, of course, seen at the conclusion of the chronologically reversed play, whereas the beginning of the play is their end — the culmination of a series of professional betrayals, mutual professional jealousies, affairs and alcoholism.  

Sondheim’s music and lyrics transform this familiar show business saga into a lyrical and universal tale about friendship, loyalty, and the temptations of money, sex and too much success.  It’s among the best of Sondheim’s scores in my view, along with A Little Night Music and Sweeney Todd.  And it is sung beautifully and impressively by the cast, under the direction of musical director Aaron Kaplan.

I’ve often thought about the distinction between the songs in older musicals like Oklahoma, where tunes like “O, What a Beautiful Morning” have a thematic or symbolic meaning or express a mood; and the songs in contemporary musicals, which serve primarily to advance the story, often in a prosaic or not very melodic way.  But in Merrily We Roll Along, Sondheim composed pieces like “Not a Day Goes By” that advance the narrative and the characters’ emotional arcs while at the same time standing alone as beautiful and memorable songs.  As others have noted, Sondheim’s songs are designed to be acted, not just sung, and such is the case here. 

Including the ensemble, there are no fewer than 14 performers on the stage at many points in the evening; the audience barely outnumbers them.  But Kapinos and his colleagues have directed the action in such a thoughtful manner that the diminutive performance space not only never seems crowded, it actually serves as a believable backdrop in the mind’s eye for the play’s various settings — a Harlem rooftop, a palatial Los Angeles film producer’s home, a TV studio, and the lobby of a Broadway theatre, among other locations. 

The other primary cast members of this very well-cast show include the luminous Brandy Miller, as an ambitious Broadway star who breaks up the playwright’s first marriage; Justine Cameron, the playwright’s wronged wife; and Aaron Mann, a producer and the Broadway star’s wronged husband.  I also paid close attention to the ensemble, each member of which has a distinctive musical and physical presence and each of whom plays various supporting roles.

There’s a song that name checks various political and artistic figures from the 1960s that will whoosh right by younger audience members, and one of the suits worn by Aaron Mann doesn’t fit well and — other than the tiny theatre itself, more of a miracle than an obstacle — those are about the only negative things I could find to say about this production.

Speaking of miracles, I spent the entire evening just assuming that the musical accompaniment was a recorded track.  It could hardly have been anything else, given the postage-stamp sized stage.  Then, on my way out of the theatre, as the final notes of the coda were being played over the audience’s applause, I happened to glance at one of the only other rooms in the theatre, a tiny office next to the front desk that serves as a “box office.”  The door was open just a crack, and crammed inside a space not even big enough for a full-sized desk was a chamber ensemble that had been providing the live musical accompaniment, clearly audible through the thin wall separating the office from the stage, all evening long.  There was a drummer and percussionist; a trumpeter; a bass player; a keyboard player; and a flute, clarinet and alto saxophone player.  It was like something out of an old Marx Brothers movie.  Call me an idiot for assuming that the program’s listing of “musicians” was referring to the persons who had performed on what I assumed was a pre-recorded track, but encountering the musicians in that tiny room was more than just a surprise.  It was magic. 

Highly Recommended

Reviewed by Michael Antman

June 23 – July 23

Presented by the Blank Theatre Company at the Reginald Vaughn Theatre, 1106 Thorndale Avenue

Tickets are available at www.blanktheatrecompany.org.

Further information about this and other area productions can be found by visiting www.theatreinchicago.org.