writing tenderly
by Douglas Messerli
Joe Masteroff (book, based on the
play by Miklos Laszlo), Sheldon Harnick (lyrics), Jerry Bock (music) / She
Loves Me / New York, Eugene O’Neill Theatre, 1963 / revival New York,
Criterion Center Stage Right, 1993, transferred to the Brooks Atkinson Theatre,
1994.
Of all the versions of Miklos
Laszlo’s play Parfumerie, my favorite
is the musical She Loves Me. I did
not see the original 1963 Broadway version, but even today I feel like I must
have been there, since soon after its opening I bought the stereo recording and
played it so many times that it lost most of its sound, forcing me buy a second
copy. I also own a CD version, even today recalling the lyrics of nearly every
one of its songs, my favorites among them being “Sounds While Selling,”
“Tonight at Eight,” “Will He Like Me?” “Ice Cream,” and “She Loves Me.” But
there are also charming lesser pieces: the angry song of rejection sung by the
character Ilona (the wonderful Barbara Baxley), “I Resolve,” her tale of true
love in “A Trip to the Library,” and the sarcastic goodbye to the Budapest shop
and its workers by the oily charmer, Stephen Kodaly (Jack Cassidy), “Grand
Knowing You.” And even the seemingly ridiculous lyrics of “Where’s My Shoe?”
work wonderfully. As the composers Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick wrote of this
work: “We’ve never written so tenderly before”—and, I would argue, never again.
I still recall the day I first heard of the musical, when on the
television show To Tell the Truth Peggy
Cass mentioned that she had attended it a night earlier, and encouraged
everyone to see it. Given its fairly short, 302 performances, obviously not all
viewers ran to the Eugene O’Neill Theater, where it was playing—but it made a
believer out of me.
Not only does the music and dance lighten up the darker play and film
version, but give the work the feel of the merriment of Christmas season with
which ends. Georg Nowack (Massey) is far more loveable in the musical than
James Stewart is in the movie, and in his visits to the sick Amalia his refusal
to tell her that she is his unknown penpal makes far more sense. Even though
Ludwig Donath fires Georg, believing he is having an affair with his wife, the
musical version tempers the antagonism between them, allowing Donath to bring
greater warmth to his role than in the play and movie, by warmly recalling
“Days Gone By.” And the more extended
Gypsy café scene, replete with both a romantic and tragic tango, intensifies
Amalia’s self-doubt and makes her an even more likable figure than was Margaret
Sullivan’s Klara. Cassidy won a Tony Award for his performance.
This beloved musical has had a special role, so it seems, in my life, representing one of the most cherished works of my musical theater experiences. I believe I describe somewhere in the My Year volumes that upon my first visit to the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus (after a bus ride from Milwaukee in 1966, while I was still a freshman at that University campus) I wandered through the sprawling university grounds far away from the humanities-based edifices to the agricultural part of the school, where I came upon a large tent. Quietly entering it from the back, I quickly perceived it as a rehearsal for a performance of this gem (I later discovered that the agricultural school sent amateur performances of their plays throughout the state), and sat in stillness through it until someone noticed me and asked what I was doing there. “Just watching this wonderful work,” I shot back. I was allowed to stay, and I realized, almost immediately, that I just had to transfer to the Madison campus, which I joyfully did soon after. Did the farmers and small-town audiences who got to see this musical, enjoy it half as much as I? I’d like to think so, perhaps sweeping up some young boy like I had been in Iowa into the magical arms of theater and opera.
Los Angeles, January 16, 2014
Reprinted from USTheater, Opera, and Performance (January 2014).
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