A Little Night Music With Christine Ebersole

As I walked to my seat at Boston's Symphony Hall, I noticed that the multimedia warm-up screen hovering above the stage touted Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music as "one of Broadway's most overlooked masterpieces." Masterpiece? Yes. Overlooked? Hardly. Night Music is pretty much universally regarded as a masterwork. It's also one of the very few Sondheim shows to make a profit in its original Broadway run.

I had been greatly looking forward to seeing Christine Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson reunited for this concert, only to discover that Wilson pulled out at the last minute, citing a scheduling conflict. (What kind of "scheduling conflict" comes up the day before the show? The kind that isn't really a scheduling conflict.) Local Boston actress Bobbie Steinbach made for a wonderful replacement for Wilson, bringing just the right mix of world-weariness and wistful recollection to the role of Madame Armfeldt. 

So, no Wilson. Hey ho. At least I got to see my beloved Christine, who entered with an effusive rope of pearls and a shimmering, diaphanous red and black jacket. Her performance was no less luminous. Opposite her as Frederick was Broadway pro Ron Raines, with his marvelously rich and effortless baritone.

Besides the Broadway pros on hand, most of the cast comprised fellows of the Tanglewood Music Center. As you might expect, they were almost universally outstanding vocally (although Ashley Logan as Ann Egerman was a bit disappointing in this regard), but in the acting department almost all of them suffered in comparison to Raines and Ebersole (although Rebecca Jo Loeb made for a feisty and animated Petra). Matthew Worth as Carl-Magnus was especially emblematic of this dichotomy: His bellowing bass was impeccable, but his acting was cartoonish, far more than the admittedly broad role of Carl-Magnus requires. Now, it's a bit unfair to compare these younger folk to their more seasoned cast members. After all, these performers are music fellows, not acting grad students. But if they're going to share the stage with pros, they're going to face the inevitable, and potentially unflattering, comparison.

The role of Desiree was written for an actress with significant vocal limitations, Glynnis Johns. The short vocal lines were meant to give Johns plenty of room to breathe. Others who've played the role include Judi Dench, Elizabeth Taylor, and Jean Simmons, none of whom was really much of a singer. But Ebersole gives the role a lot more melodic emphasis, actually singing much of the material on which Johns and the others relied on sprechstimme. It made for a lovely change. It was similarly jarring, albeit pleasantly so, to hear Katherine Growdon sing Charlotte's songs in a resonant alto.

The show actually worked quite well in a concert setting, with Lawrence Goldberg's adaptation clocking in at an economic two hours and fifteen minutes, with intermission. This allowed the full splendor of Stephen Sondheim's rapturous score to take center stage. The highlight of the evening was unquestionably Ebersole's full-throttle "Send in the Clowns," which was ravishing, as was the reprise with Ebersole and Raines. The main flaw in the show is, and always has been, "The Miller's Son," although this is certainly no reflection on Rebecca Jo Loeb's energetic delivery of the song. It simply doesn't belong in the show. While a tour de force one-act in its own right, it serves no dramatic purpose. We don't care about this character, and it comes at a time when we just want to wrap things up, not spend four and a half contemplative minutes with the saucy maid.

After the show, I met up with some friends who had also attended the concert, and we went for drinks at Brasserie Jo, a tony local watering hole. As we sat discussing the concert, we started to notice Night Music cast members trickle into the restaurant. We speculated as to whether we might be so lucky as to run into Christine Ebersole.

Well, as we were chatting up Bobbie Steinbach, congratulating her on her masterful last-minute sub job, my friend Fred bellowed, "Oh, my God. It's Christine!" In an effort to be kind, Fred's husband David kept talking to Bobbie, but for Fred and me it was all about Christine. As La Ebersole passed our table, I extended my hand, which she graciously accepted and, embarrassed as I am to admit this, I actually uttered the words "I worship you." The cast retired to their table, and we continued with our libations. Later, as people started to trickle out, Fred practically forced me over to Christine's table to get a photo with her, for which I am eternally in his debt. Isn't she lovely? You can barely even tell that she's really thinking, "Oh, no. Another gay stalker..."

Comments

[Steve On Broadway (SOB)]

Glad you had a chance to meet her and get a photo. She's been exceedingly gracious both times I've had the pleasure of worshipping, I mean, meeting her.