Sunday In The Park With George

The blog review:

So, I saw Sunday in the Park With George a few weeks ago and have been meaning to write my review...but I realized that I needed to let it sit for awhile until I figured out what I wanted to say. Don't get me wrong I LOVED the show. I thought it was beautiful and moving and everything I want out of a theatrical experience. But there was more to it than that. This was my first encounter with this particular Sondheim show and, (as often happens the first time I'm exposed to Sondheim), I needed to digest my reaction to it and let the show percolate in my mind for awhile before I can talk intelligently about it...and, to be completely honest, I'm not sure that my reaction will be intelligently conveyed, but I'll give it the old college try.

For those of you not familiar with the show, the first act follows a fictionalized Georges Seurat as he creates the painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" (The painting is above and is probably familiar to many - and, I'm totally dating myself with this statement, but if you're of a certain generation, it inspires a memory of Alan Ruck singing, "When Cameron was in Egypt's Land...let my Cameron gooooo," because, if you saw Ferris Beuller's Day Off you remember Cameron staring at this painting in the Art Museum they visit...but I digress).

Anywho, as I was saying, the first act of SitPWG follows a fictionalized Georges Seurat and his model/lover, Dot, as they create the painting. Highlighted throughout the first act are Seurat's drive and intensity as he focuses entirely on perfecting the painting and lets everything around him drift away. The second act, which takes place 100 years later centers on Georges' and Dot's (again fictionalized) great grandson, George, an artist displaying his latest art work - a light presentation/installation - inspired by the painting. The second act is particularly sneaky as it starts out seemingly about art and ends up making a profound statement about life - about legacy, life, hope and the possibilities of a blank canvas.

One of the things I love about Sondheim, and it was particularly apparent in this show in general, and in this production in particular, is that the place you think he's going at the end of the first act, is never the place he ends up. From what I understand, in the past, this show has been criticized for being cold and distant, and I can see why one would think that at intermission. The first act, though visually beautiful (more on that later) seems to be just about an obsessive artist. As my dad said at intermission when I asked how he was enjoying it, "Jess, it strikes me that artists of the 19th century were like rock stars are today...and I care as little about them." I didn't feel quite that detached, and in fact the last scene of the first act which SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT is a creation of the painting itself - Georges moves around the stage positioning the rest of the cast into the tableau of the painting and until he began to position them, despite the fact that they'd been in their recognizable-from-the-painting outfits for the entire first act, I didn't see it coming. And the power of that moment, when the cast suddenly becomes a living representation of this painting I have seen a gazillion times before, well, I'll admit, it brought me to tears. The act of creation, in whatever form it takes, is powerful to me...so, yeah, Sondheim, and this particular production, had me from the start but my dad, yeah, not so much.

...and then came the second act. The second act again starts out seeming to be about an obsessive, temperamental artist; but as it continues you realize that it's about love and loss and connections we try to make and connections we lose. It's about wanting to leave something behind and it's about the possibilities that are around us if we only choose to see them. As affecting as I found the first act, I felt that the single most moving moment of the piece, and I don't know if it was a director's choice (in which case, well played Sam Buntrock, well played) or if it's in the script, was the last moment of the piece. SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT (I should make a macro for that). The last moment of the show the stage goes completely blank - no set, no projections (more on that later), clear light, and George turns his back to the audience to see this blank canvas and reacts with a gasp of surprise and utter delight at the possibilities...It is beautifully played by Daniel Evans and was so moving to me, I can't even describe why, that the tears started to flow again.

I guess I was so moved because I love that moment. That moment when you know that anything is possible. That moment when all avenues are open to you. That moment before the doubt creeps in and before the choices are made when the potential for joy and novelty and excitement is around every corner. It's the moment that Going To Tahiti Productions was created for (forgive the plug) and it is the thing I love about theater, about directing, about art, and yeah, about life too. I wonder if it is as affecting a piece of theater to non artists. I've read that it is considered one of Sondheim's most personal shows, and I can definitely see how it can be seen that way, but I wonder if the non-artists in the crowd were as excited and moved by the show as I was. What I do know is that my dad's reaction after the first show was a 180 compared to his intermission reaction. After it was over, I turned to him to see what he thought about the show and he said, "I forgot about Sondheim and his f**king second acts." So, I guess some of the non artists were effected by the show too. My Mom, a Sondheim fanatic, and the reason we were at the show to begin with, was kinda like me - with Sondheim from the second the lights went up.

Which brings me to some comments about this production specifically. It was absoLUTEly beautiful. They achieved so much with projections that it truly looked like there was a big brush painting the stage. I've never seen anything like it. One review I read said that it was like CGI, (computer generated imagery) on stage and I would have to agree with that. But it was so beautiful. I absolutely loved it. It was one of those times when a technique really added to, supported, and enhanced the work that the actors were doing. It was really wonderful. And I don't know why I'm so surprised. I mean I've been watching CGI in movies for years and yet I'm just not expecting to see it on stage. I know the power of a brilliant performer with brilliant material doing his or her thing. But this was a testament to what can be done with more, with multimedia, with design...oh, and with money. And this was a show that particularly lent itself to the use of projection. It's a show that needs paintings to be painted and come alive in front of the audiences eyes, so it's a perfect medium for the kind of projection work they used.

So, yeah, all in all, I liked it. Good show, old chap, good show...