It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when Stephen Sondheim’s work wasn’t revered. Not all his shows were hits the first time around and many divided opinion and generated parody. This last effort from the legend, who died in 2021, presented on the South Bank via New York’s The Shed, is such a mixed affair that it’s unlikely anyone will claim it as a Sondheim highlight.
Sondheim used more sources to make musicals than most and this time, with David Ives’ book, he looks at Surrealist cineaste Luis Buñuel. We get not one but two films brought to the stage. It must be stressed that, unlike many a movie adaptation, Sondheim and Ives put their own stamp on the works. These are interpretations, updated and with the stage in mind. For once, the word ‘inspiration’ is apt.
Yet, while there are more than enough crazy moments, there isn’t the political power that’s found in Buñuel. Maybe this is down to the times? Our view of class has changed so much. Or is it Surrealism itself that’s the problem? You might suggest Surrealists tend to take self-referentiality seriously (there’s a topic for discussion). But musicals are whacky from the get-go.
It helps an awful lot to know what’s being referenced before going in. Of course, Sondheim fans are a clever bunch and their knowledge of European cinema extensive. But just in case you need reminding, the first act is based on 1972’s Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie, with a wealthy group trying to find a place to eat. Here the idea is a solid satire that’s laugh-out-loud funny, with great skits from various waiters (including Tracie Bennett, who is excellent). But updating the characters isn’t a happy affair. Instead of France, we are in LA. And, more than the bourgeoise, we have Ultra High Net Worth individuals who don’t quite convince, despite Rory Kinnear’s commendable efforts. A younger character, admirably performed by Chumisa Dornford-May, is written as some kind of revolutionary but is notably more soixante-huit than contemporary.
The second act disappoints further, not least because there is so little music in it. It’s a version of El ángel exterminador (the one with the characters mysteriously trapped in a room). Why they can’t leave and then eventually do is never explained but you’re going to have to live with that. The wit and intelligence are still clear (a dialogue about ontology and shoes is funny), but the references become oppressive.
The potential legacy of the piece also weighs heavy. Yes, this material would be difficult for any cast. But director Joe Mantello fails to keep up a pace or embrace crazier moments so that (ape costumes aside) there are few surprises. While Richard Fleeshman and Paulo Szot manage to shine in simpler roles (as an unnamed soldier and a diplomat), the other characters are surely supposed to be more three-dimensional? Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Jane Krakowski and Martha Plimpton (all big talents) seem trapped in how we imagine performers in a Sondheim show should act. Metatheatricality or just a mistake? It proves tiresome and shortchanges the show.
Until 28 June 2025
Photos by MARC BRENNER
