Sourly We Roll Along

The notorious 1981 musical flop Merrily We Roll Along, known mainly to now for putting an end to the remarkable decade-long partnership between songwriter Stephen Sondheim and director Harold Prince, finally achieved Broadway success this year in a much-lauded revival of a revival imported from London. But claims that the show itself has finally found its audience seem far-fetched. It’s safe to say that the limited run was driven primarily by star casting, centered on Harry Potter himself, Daniel Radcliffe, which led to eye-watering ticket prices averaging – averaging – over $250. Despite a top-notch production (which I saw in London back in 2012), the producers didn’t even try to keep the show going after the original cast’s contract was up, suggesting that they had no confidence in the material or at least its commercial viability. Nor should they have.

The musical was and is a problem piece that no amount of tinkering is going to solve short of major surgery, a glorious score married to a creaky book. It portrays a stage composer Frank who abandons his artistic ideals for financial success in Hollywood, leaving behind his still struggling and idealistic partner Charley and their good friend Mary. It famously tells the story in reverse, so that Frank starts out rich, nasty and soulless and, in a succession of scenes, ends up young and full of dreams. Mary similarly goes from bitter, overweight and despondent to her young optimistic self.

Aside from contrived dialogue by George Furth and some highly unlikeable characters, the show alienates us from the start by signaling that everything we’re about to see for the next two hours will be in vain. I think we’re supposed to hate Frank for choosing a fabulous lifestyle rather than pursue “art”, but the unhappy fate that the authors have saddled him with here don’t seem to connect to that. His troubles have nothing to do with his career choice, and nothing suggests that anything would have been different if he had selected another path. It feels artificial.

In the next scene, Charley has an equally phony moment in a live radio interview reuniting him with the now successful Frank at which he rants in public (in an amazing song) about his ex-partner’s betrayal. Whatever it was he was trying to accomplish by embarrassing his friend, all I could wonder about was what Charley had been doing all those years. Are the authors trying to make us think that he was sitting impotently at home waiting for Frank to come back? I don’t buy it. All of us have youthful dreams that we discard along the way, but life goes on, and we do too. I doubt many viewers have much sympathy with Charley’s whining about his friend’s career path, especially in such a public forum, when he should have gotten off his own derriere and just pursued his own goals. (The dialogue in the first scene indicates that he subsequently did just that and became a successful playwright.) Frank may have been stung by the accusations, but the musical doesn’t suggest that there’s the slightest chance of epiphany or renewal, just vapid, futile, enervated regret. Is that how life ends for the authors – with a whimper?

The Hollywood sellout is an old story, but it was much more persuasive in productions like the movie The Player, where it’s satiric rather than sour. If all that Charley and Mary liked about Frank was his artistic side and couldn’t bring themselves to be happy for his success, there was a problem from the start.

Of course, there are the songs. While the acid sentiment remains unconvincing, there’s no doubting the quality of the music, Sondheim’s last truly melodious score, and the brilliance of the lyrics. Some of the songs, like “Not a Day Goes By”, are as lovely and memorable as anything he’s ever written. It’s unfortunate that they’re tied to this confused book, and it’s true that some share the same flaw: technically impressive but not very true-to-life (the phenomenal “Franklin Shepard Inc” being a prime example). Overall, Sondheim really needs to lighten up. Life’s not that bad.

Sondheim’s first Broadway shows, both big hits, offered challenging stories that deftly managed the line between great art and entertainment: West Side Story ends in hope, and Gypsy in a beautiful gesture of forgiveness and reconciliation. But he doesn’t seem to have learned from the experience. In Company, his first collaboration with Prince a decade later, the composer had intended to send audiences home with an acerbic song about marriage called “Happily Ever After in Hell”. The director fortunately leaned on him to ditch that for the more encouraging “Being Alive”. It’s interesting to think, however, how that one number might have affected the show’s reception. Merrily starts at the end of the story, so Prince would have done well to give audiences something to believe in rather than this downer.

As an exercise in useless writing (and having way too much free time), I’ve sketched out my ideas below in script form. In my concept, Frank’s life is going just fine – no infidelity, no infighting, no overt drama – but Mary’s visit arouses his vague discontent toward his surface success, his desire for something more. Most importantly, I give him and audiences the suggestion of positive developments ahead. These are the final ten minutes or so of the scene.

MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG

(end of Act 1, Scene 1)

Everyone has gone out to the pool, leaving only Frank and Mary behind.

FRANK

Oh, come on, stay a little longer.

MARY

No, I don’t want to be the proverbial rotten fish. And I have a plane to catch.

FRANK

Well, thanks for coming. It was really terrific seeing you. Brought back a lot of great memories.

MARY

Memories. You, me… everybody. (with difficulty) Frank, I know I shouldn’t mention this… but how about giving Charley a call?

FRANK

Charley?! You can’t be serious.

MARY

Just for old times sake. The old gang back together again.

FRANK

 You do remember what happened? I am not the one at fault here. He humiliated me in front of everyone. And you’re asking me to contact him? He…

MARY

All right, all right, forget it, I’m sorry. I was just thinking, I don’t know, how things might have turned out if…

FRANK

If?

MARY

We were just so happy back then, we had our dreams, and sure, we had our regrets, things we should have done, things we shouldn’t have done, things we never done, I mean did, I mean never did… I mean, me for instance, I never had a chance, or never took the chance, or, well, what I mean is, I never really told you, but, well, Frank, (with difficulty) I’ve always loved you.

FRANK

(not getting it, responds casually) And I love you too.

MARY

No, I mean, really…

Gussie, more than a little tipsy, suddenly sweeps in from the terrace.

GUSSIE

Oh, here you are, darling. Everyone’s looking for you. (to Mary) Mary, dear, are you leaving already?

MARY

Yeah, it’s a fish thing.

GUSSIE

You can’t go now; the fun’s just starting. We’re having a pool party. Come join us.

MARY

No, I’m not drunk enough for that. Anyway, I don’t have a swimsuit.

GUSSIE

Dear, who said anything about swimsuits?

MARY

Oh, you’re not drunk enough for that.

GUSSIE

(laughing) All right, have it your way. (to Frank) Darling, we’ve run out of champagne. Could you order more?

FRANK

Champagne? You can’t possibly have drunk all that already.

GUSSIE

Not to drink, silly. For the pool. Be a dear and order a few more cases. (to Mary) Bye now. It was lovely seeing you.

She blows some air kisses and staggers out, leaving the door open. Laughter and partying can be heard from outside.

FRANK

Sorry about that.

MARY

Don’t worry. That goes with the liquor. Oh, I almost forgot. (hands him a gift in a paper bag) Happy Birthday.

FRANK

Hey, many thanks! Did you wrap this yourself? (starts to look inside)

MARY

No, don’t look now. Wait till I’m gone. I want it to be a surprise.

FRANK

All right, if you say so. Can’t wait to see what’s in there.

MARY

It’s nothing, just a little memento. Here. (sticks paper inside bag)

FRANK

What’s that?

MARY

It’s Charley’s business card. Just in case…

FRANK

(laughing) You never give up, do you? Some things never change.

MARY

For better or for worse, right?

FRANK

You’re the one constant in my life. Come back soon, huh?

MARY

I’d love that. (after a pause) Well, gotta go. Thanks for a lovely evening.

FRANK

Thanks to you too. For everything. (gives her a hug)

MARY

Bye now. Keep in touch.

After a clumsy pause, Mary exits. Frank stands momentarily, then walks over and closes door to the pool, cutting off the sound. Takes paper bag in silence to sofa. Reaches in to find the cassette recorder that will appear later in “It’s A Hit” sequence. He holds it for a moment, then pushes Play. Out comes the sound of applause from his first success. He smiles and listens briefly, then pushes Stop. He thinks, then picks up Charley’s card and examines it. Haltingly, he goes to the phone, picks up the receiver and, after a moment of hesitation, dials.

FRANK

(cautiously) Hello, Charley? You, you’re not going to believe it, but… this is Frank. (smiles) Yeah, long time no see. So how are you?

Conversation continues silently as lights dim.

END, SCENE 1