I
mentioned this show recently when I was reviewing Parade’s End. I can never truly nail down a favorite Sondheim
show, but this one is under frequent consideration. Like all of his musicals, it has its
imperfections, but whenever I listen to the score, my love for it floods in
anew. It’s perhaps Sondheim’s most
personal show, and that shines in the music.
To some
extent, Sunday in the Park with George
is more of an idea than a story. Its two
acts tell different but interrelated stories about artists named George,
separated by centuries, continents, and media.
Act 1 follows the creation of Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte, a revolution in
pointillism. As George is drawn into his
work, the rest of life recedes from him, and his model/mistress Dot is among
the collateral damage. Act 2 jumps to the
U.S. in the present day (well, 1984,) where another George – Seurat’s
great-grandson – is confronted by his own artistic fame. He’s made a name for himself constructing
beloved but increasingly derivative works, and he’s not sure if his path is
where he’s supposed to be.
Both
sides of the story examine, from different angles, the enormity and power of art. The George in France gives everything for his
art; his contemporaries can’t understand what he’s trying to do, and Dot grows
dissatisfied with playing second fiddle.
And yet, he’s propelled by an internal impetus to create, unable to stop
even if he wanted to. Act 1’s musical
treatise is “Finishing the Hat,” in which George explores the hold his work has
over him. George watches “the rest of
the world from a window” while he feeds his need to create something. It controls him, and he ruefully acquiesces. He admits “the woman who won’t wait for you
knows / That, however you live, / There’s a part of you always standing by, /
Mapping out the sky.”
The
failed romance with Dot is heartbreaking.
As with Parade’s End, here are
two people who love each other, but neither can give the other what they
need. Dot doesn’t feel she’s a necessary
part of George’s life, and George doesn’t understand why he has to share himself
with her. The conflict comes to a mournful
head in “We Do Not Belong Together.” The
confronted George argues, “I am what I do – / Which you know, / Which you
always knew, / Which I thought you were a part of!” Dot replies that, while George is “complete”
on his own, “I am unfinished, / I am diminished with or without you.” She’s desperate for him to fight for her, and
he just can’t. In the end, as she walks
out, she wistfully notes that they “should have belonged together.”
In Act
2, the American George isn’t consumed by his art, but it does rule his fears. Act 2’s
biggest number is “Putting It Together,” where George frenetically flits
between sycophants and possible patrons, shamelessly schmoozing with the
justifying mantra that “art isn’t easy.”
He fakes “cocktail conversation” and smilingly swallows criticism to
stay on top. He’s frantic to stay
relevant, terrified of becoming “last year’s sensation.” In the art world, “you’re new or else you’re
through,” and he’s dug himself so far into an artistic rut that he’s not sure
he can get out.
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