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By now, more than thirty years after the original production of
Stephen Sondheim’s Company, entire dissertations have been
written on the cipher which is Bobby, the protagonist at the center
of Sondheim’s examination of urban relationships. Is he or isn’t he
(sssh – gay)– or is he actually neutered?
In his most current
incarnation, as played by the extremely talented Raul Esparza, Bobby
appears to be suffering from something similar to what the character
Larry says about his wife Joanne, “a conceited woman with no
self-esteem.” Bobby is obviously physically attractive, as well as
emotionally attuned to his friends’ needs, and yet he often appears
as uncomfortable in his own skin as his friend Amy who believes
she’s not worthy of marriage.
Then again, given the
sour depiction of the institution of marriage in George Furth’s
book, it’s not likely anyone would happily walk down the aisle.
Written at the end of the Sixties, and first produced in 1970,
Company chronicles the type of marriages dissected in the
narrative worlds of the three Johns: Cheever, Updike and O’Hara.
And the current production would be considerably improved were the
context of these restrictive marriages realized more completely. It
would be useful to be reminded of how few doors were open to women
married before the age of feminism—as well as, for that matter, how
the mere mention of the word homosexual could clear a room.
In a film such as Todd Haynes’ Far From Heaven, the plight of
women and homosexuals during the Fifties in America was made clear
by the brilliant art and set direction. Here, at the Barrymore, we
get men and women outfitted in various shades of black, posing on
Lucite furniture—which does little to reveal era, and, therefore,
distances us from mustering up any empathy for characters who come
across as shallow and whiny.
Fortunately, there is
Sondheim’s music. Music and lyrics by Sondheim, both of which are
brought front and center by the director John Doyle’s conceit of
having the actors play all the instruments. Admittedly, this idea
worked better for Sweeney Todd, where there is a far more
propulsive narrative—and in fact, there are times during this
production when the parading of instruments and musicians proves
dangerously distracting.
Without a doubt, Raul
Esparza has a beautiful voice which does wonders with “Being Alive,”
and Heather Laws rips into “Getting Married Today” with a manic
ferocity designed to insure that hers is the version best remembered
for years to come. But at its best, this production most resembles a
concert version of Company, something one might have expected
to see at Lincoln Center or the Kennedy Center—or on PBS during a
pledge drive.
As for the question of whether Bobby
is or isn’t (gay), it might do well to remember that Company
was first produced barely a year after Stonewall, arguably the birth
of gay liberation. So it’s not surprising that Bobby remains locked
in the closet—even as he yearns for “someone to need you too much,
someone to crowd you with love.” That much remains the same, what
E.M. Forster meant when he wrote, “Only connect! That was the whole
of her sermon,”—and for those of us in the audience for this
production, we might wish only that those connections were stronger.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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