Everything Was Possible: The Birth of the Musical Follies (Applause Books) by Ted Chapin Page B
Authors: Ted Chapin
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Hal leaned over to Michael and said: “Terrific—it’s going to be terrific.” Steve was pleased. “It’s going to be great, really, you all keep the emotion very well, and it’s the emotion that carries the song through.” It is the first moment when the lead characters deal specifically with themselves as a foursome—then, and now. The emotions are, necessarily, complex, and since the song comes early in the show, it opens the Pandora’s box of emotional turmoil to come. The song begins on stage level with the men singing their verse. Without being quite conscious of what they’re doing, Phyllis and Sally climb a staircase on one of the side units, as if going back up to their dressing rooms. When they begin their verse, they are “upstairs,” singing about the “boys downstairs.” It was a nice moment, and it cleared the lower level for the young counterparts, who take over for the first time in the show. They enter filled with youthful anticipation of an evening on the town, discuss their plans, and then run off, leaving behind the four principals, who are somewhat dazed by the memory. Once the song was run, Michael went into the stage managers’ office, took a swig of Hal’s Fernet-Branca, and said, “I really like ‘The Girls Upstairs’ from when the young kids start until the end. I just don’t like the beginning. But . . . I’ve got too much to do to worry about it now.” Then there was a brief summit meeting.
In fact, there was a summit meeting almost every day in which Hal, Michael, Jim, and Steve would sequester themselves behind a closed door and discuss the status of the show. This often took place over lunch, but sometimes happened on the spur of the moment.
Of all the creators, the one who was least in evidence the first week was Jim Goldman. He was probably feeling more gun-shy than anyone, simply because as exciting as Follies was, it was a far cry from the show that he and Steve had begun. Changing gears to accommodate a new producer and a new directing team must have made him cautious, and this was the third try, although this time was for real. There had been six complete drafts of the script before Hal got involved, each of which had rough and final versions. (The first one he gave Steve had on its cover: Untitled musical, unpolished book by James Goldman, unfinished music by Stephen Sondheim.) When Hal wanted him in rehearsal, he was always there. And every time he came in, he brought new revisions, sometimes just a line or two, sometimes a new lead-in to a song, sometimes a shift of sequence, sometimes an entirely new scene. He was game, certainly, and appeared to be very laid-back, and very un-showbiz. I found this letter stuck in an earlier draft of the script in the stage managers’ office:
Dear Hal,
What you’ve got here is a first attempt at 1) clarifying and improving Ben and 2) tightening the first sag in the show, the area between “The Girls Upstairs” and “Who’s That Woman?”
It wasn’t that what Ben did was so wrong. The problem was that he didn’t do anything. Being unsure of him, I had taken the sure course of leaving him out, with the result that between his opening monologue and his scene with Sally after “The Girls Upstairs,” he had something like two lines of dialogue.
I’ve come across a way of formulating what the past means to our four people. I’ve found it enormously helpful and before you read this stuff, particularly with Ben in mind, I wanted to offer it to you.
It’s just that when the past stays alive in our lives in harmful or damaging ways, it means we have unfinished business with it. For Ben, Sally represents unfinished business. It’s not the lady herself who attracts him and evokes old feelings. It’s the past within himself that he has never faced or come to terms with.
This may be a highly personal way of putting it and of no help at all. But I’ve begun to feel so much clearer and more certain what this piece is all
In fact, there was a summit meeting almost every day in which Hal, Michael, Jim, and Steve would sequester themselves behind a closed door and discuss the status of the show. This often took place over lunch, but sometimes happened on the spur of the moment.
Of all the creators, the one who was least in evidence the first week was Jim Goldman. He was probably feeling more gun-shy than anyone, simply because as exciting as Follies was, it was a far cry from the show that he and Steve had begun. Changing gears to accommodate a new producer and a new directing team must have made him cautious, and this was the third try, although this time was for real. There had been six complete drafts of the script before Hal got involved, each of which had rough and final versions. (The first one he gave Steve had on its cover: Untitled musical, unpolished book by James Goldman, unfinished music by Stephen Sondheim.) When Hal wanted him in rehearsal, he was always there. And every time he came in, he brought new revisions, sometimes just a line or two, sometimes a new lead-in to a song, sometimes a shift of sequence, sometimes an entirely new scene. He was game, certainly, and appeared to be very laid-back, and very un-showbiz. I found this letter stuck in an earlier draft of the script in the stage managers’ office:
Dear Hal,
What you’ve got here is a first attempt at 1) clarifying and improving Ben and 2) tightening the first sag in the show, the area between “The Girls Upstairs” and “Who’s That Woman?”
It wasn’t that what Ben did was so wrong. The problem was that he didn’t do anything. Being unsure of him, I had taken the sure course of leaving him out, with the result that between his opening monologue and his scene with Sally after “The Girls Upstairs,” he had something like two lines of dialogue.
I’ve come across a way of formulating what the past means to our four people. I’ve found it enormously helpful and before you read this stuff, particularly with Ben in mind, I wanted to offer it to you.
It’s just that when the past stays alive in our lives in harmful or damaging ways, it means we have unfinished business with it. For Ben, Sally represents unfinished business. It’s not the lady herself who attracts him and evokes old feelings. It’s the past within himself that he has never faced or come to terms with.
This may be a highly personal way of putting it and of no help at all. But I’ve begun to feel so much clearer and more certain what this piece is all
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