Reviewed by Jameson Baker
I am pleased to write, today, however, that sometimes the bolt does hit the mark yet again.
After the lackluster recording of the Broadway revival of Stephen Sondheim and George Furth's "Company", I approached the 1996 London Cast Album (First Night Records, CAST CD 57) with low expectations. A somewhat revisionist concept of the musical, the notion of director Sam Mendes, it re-envisions Bobby as a black man who admits to a few homosexual dalliances in his past, but is not, at heart, gay. It also eschews what Mendes called the "front-on, revueish" quality of the musical in favor of a more surrealistic approach, in which Bobby experiences the songs in his head, as pieces in a growing tapestry of nightmarish inner conflict. (One of the best kept "secrets" of the show is that all but the scene before his entrance and the final scene, after "Being Alive", do in fact happen in Bobby's head--that's why his "surprise" birthday party seems to start anew, and be oddly different each time we return to it: each is another apprehensive permutation of what Bobby expects may face him if he opens the door to his apartment, where he knows his friends lie in wait, as they do every year. But because this conceit is never articulated directly, most people never get it on a conscious level--no doubt as the authors intend. But, reading the description of the London production, it would seem, here, to be more literalized. Judging from the CD insert photos, it is also a darker production than the original, featuring several highly stylized and even bizarre costume choices--or so someone weaned on the original production might well think.
Fill one with curiosity? Yes.
Imbue one with confidence? Not necessarily.
What an unexpected shock, then, to discover that this weird, twisted vision of the show should produce a generally invigorating cast album. No, it's not the equal of the 1970 Broadway original--that was the pure show, the initial vision, the ideal assemblage of personalities and voices; this new production is conceived in reaction to that--it varies its approach by way of re-exploration.
But it comes close to the original in this regard: it has a wholly satisfying personality of its own; and creates the illusion of something revolutionary being done for the first time--despite "Company"'s 25 year history, this new London album has the opening night energy of a premiere.
Curiously, it utilizes the same reduced orchestration (adapted by Jonathan Tunick from his Broadway originals) that sound so lame on the album of the American revival. Why should they sound so much better here? First of all, Paddy Cunneen's musical direction is more than proficient--it's heartfelt: he makes the small orchestra have the personality of yet another character. It doesn't hurt that he has supplemented the recording with a violin and cello; but he has also had the good sense to engage an enthusiastic percussionist, Allan Cox. Mr. Cox's stick-work is sometimes slightly overwrought and a little too "present"--but, on the other hand, his hot delivery provides a motor that compensates greatly for the lack of a fuller orchestra. It's a strange thing to say about a theatre album percussionist, but in this case he is (sometimes literally) the beating heart that keeps this album so zestfully alive.
Also, Mr. Mendes seems to have cast his production very well. All the performers, male and female, have personalities that come through your stereo speakers with all three dimensions intact. I do miss having a Bobby whose voice can move you to tears, like Dean Jones; but what the lighter-voiced Adrian Lester does bring to the role is Bobby's oft-underplayed confusion. And while nobody could ever compare favorably to Elaine Strich singing "The Ladies Who Lunch", Shiela Gish is the first Joanne I've ever encountered who's even in the ball park. And that's probably because she's trading on a similarly strong persona, beholden to no one else. And a similarly appropriate rasp.
There are some genuinely new interpretations of the familiar songs, but none are distortive. Mendes, Cuneen and company understand that, as the architect said, God is in the details. They make their mark with nuance, rather than sweeping changes. Taking its cue from the Broadway revival, this London "Company" adds "Marry Me a Little" to the end of the first act--and it dispenses with the dance number "Tick Tock" (the bane and stage weight of all productions in the wake of the original) and the Bows track.
I've not seen the London production--and I'm not even sure I'd like it. But the album it has produced makes revisiting the score through new artists a pleasure. And it earns its place in any modestly comprehensive theatre-CD library.
So, too, does the new Phil Ramone-produced recording of the current Broadway revival of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" (Broadway Angel 7 24385 22232 0). I'm tempted to say it's the best-ever recording of the score (which has had several: the Broadway, featuring Zero Mostel, the London, featuring Frankie Howerd and the love-em-or-hate-em liberties of the soundtrack for the admittedly flawed yet unfairly maligned movie). But I use the word "best" advisedly. The Mostel-Broadway album is the purest representation of the score as originally conceived, with the original arrangements and the original orchestrations by Sid Ramin and Irwin Kostal.
But if you overlook new elements--new dance music arrangements by David Chase, a few new lyric revisions by Mr. Sondheim, and especially new orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick, who eschews his predecessors' low-comedy no-high-strings approach for a lighter, more elegant sound--you still have the most theatrically viable album of the bunch. In one way or another, all previous recordings of this score are crudely produced and a little clunky. This new one is a streamlined pleasure, smart, clean, brilliantly sung and acted and beautifully evocative of the live theatre experience. It also, successfully and consistently, preserves the brash, bawdy sense of the show's extravagant comedy.
As a bonus, it even includes "Pretty Little Picture", the song dropped from the revival. Better still, this is the unaltered version of the song, as it was originally written. It was simplified for Mostel & Co. in 1962, and only performed once with its playful vocal countermelodies intact, at the famed Whitney concert (preserved on the RCA recording "A Stephen Sondheim Evening"). But that was with a small combo and a revue cast. Here, replete with full new orchestrations, it is sung in grand style by Nathan Lane, Jim Stanek and Jessica Boevers. Also on a "Forum" album for the first time, a bossa nova that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "hard sell," "The House of Marcus Lycus"--dance music intact.
I never thought I'd say this about the revival album of a post-'50s musical--I'd be flabbergasted to find myself ever saying it again--but the 1996 recording is the version to get for your children...and to introduce the show to friends who've never made its acquaintance. Because this one offers the spirit, soul and the very essence of the show, in a way that no recording has before. And this is the one you'll listen to with the greatest sense of musical...and theatrical...and comedic...joy.