Finishing the Hat

I'm not a big Broadway musical guy, but even I can appreciate the genius of Stephen Sondheim, who is one of the great lyricists of the art form. His first volume of collected lyrics, which runs from 1954 to 1981, is subtitled "with Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines and Anecdotes," and it's those that make this book gripping reading.

Reading lyrics is kind of hard, especially if you don't know the tune. It's easy to follow along the amazingly familiar, like "Send in the Clowns," "Everything's Coming Up Roses," and the entire score of West Side Story, but for other shows the lyrics didn't really sink in with me. I saw A Little Night Music last December so that helped, and while reading the lyrics to Sweeney Todd I thought back to the film, and while I didn't think it was a great film I did enjoy the lyrics.

So where this book excels, at least for me, who has a background in theater, is Sondheim's tales out of school and his discussion of other lyricists. It's like taking a master class with one of the great lyricists of all time. I learned about assonance and consonance, and what a pure rhyme is, and how syllable stress is important. Sondheim is meticulous about his word choice, and cites three rules: Content dictates form, less is more, and god is in the details. As for rhymes, he's almost manic on the subject. Consider this tidbit: "Regional accents can confuse the issue. To me, a native New Yorker, 'dawn' rhymes with 'lawn' and 'gone' with 'on.' When I worked with Leonard Bernstein, who was born near Boston, he insisted, to my horror, that all four words rhymed with each other. For a musical version of 'The Boston Strangler,' that might have been acceptable. For a show about New York street gangs, it was not."

Sondheim dishes about those he worked with. He's particularly savage about Robert Brustein of the Yale Drama School, whom he worked with on a student production of The Frogs. He also doesn't mince words about critics. "The sad truth is that musicals are the only public art form reviewed mostly by ignoramuses. Books are reviewed by writers, the visual arts by disappointed, if knowledgeable, painters and art students, concert music by composers and would-be composers...Musicals continue to be the only art form, popular or otherwise, that is publicly criticized by illiterates."

He's also clear-eyed in his criticism of other composers, but only discusses those that are dead. He didn't think much of Lorenz Hart, who he cites as gifted but lazy, or Ira Gershwin, who he thinks may have tried too hard to keep up with his composer brother George. Hart is scolded for sacrificing meaning for rhyme: "'Your looks are laughable,/Unphotographable" (from 'My Funny Valentine' in Babes in Arms). Unless the object of the singer's affection is a vampire, surely he meant 'unphotogenic.' Only vampires are unphotographable, but affectionate '-enic' rhymes are hard to come by." Sondheim believes that lyrics should indicate character, which is why he takes Alan Lerner to task: "For example, there's an appearance of high gloss in My Fair Lady's lyrics in "I'm an Ordinary Man" that "I'd be equally as willing/For a dentist to be drilling/Than to ever let a woman in my life," a syntactical train wreck, especially noticeable coming from a professor of English so meticulous about the language that the plot depends on it."

On the other hand, this book is not a continuous gripe-fest. Sondheim is very complimentary to those who have proved to be right. He discusses how difficult it was to work with Jerome Robbins, but cites several instances when Robbins' genius saved the day. He is also just as hard on himself, pointing out lyrics he's now embarrassed by, and frankly pointing out the weaknesses of some of his shows, particularly the flops. Do I Hear a Waltz? he calls a "why" show--why was it written in the first place? In this case, it was a favor to do a show with composer Richard Rodgers, and he thought he could make a boatload of money. He sums it up by saying, "It was my first and only 'Why?' musical. Friendship, obligation and greed are not good enough reasons to write anything."

Anyone who has an interest in musical theater, or the creative process for that matter, should read this book. It was fascinating from beginning to end, and I'm looking forward to the second volume, which will be titled, Look I Made a Hat (those are songs from his Sunday in the Park With George, by the way).