Here We Are
Up until his death, Stephen Sondheim was working on one final show. The man whose achievement in musical theatre died in 2021. For me, Sunday In The Park With George and Into The Woods are beyond compare—and Assassins is acerbic and wonderful but emphatically not for everyone. Sweeney Todd is another masterpiece. It always seemed that Sondheim had a difficult time assembling money for productions, and took a lot of time to develop the works in intense collaboration with his librettists. When he died, few knew that he had a final work in progress. Based on The Discreet Charm of The Bourgeoisie and The Exterminating Angel, two films by Spanish director Louis Bruñuel, which I’ve not seen.
In Act One a group of rich friends assemble for Brunch, but the plans have not been set up. They go to a series of restaurants where their desire for food is unmet until they reach the Moranda embassy. One of the friends is the ambassador to this fake hispanic state. Another is a revolutionary who is chronicling the friends lives as well as expecting capitalism to be overthrown very soon.
Act Two sees them in a room in the embassy after the meal, full and ready to go but somehow unable to leave. Some soldiers have come in to restore order amid whatever it is that’s going on outside, but somehow nobody is able to leave the room. This half is where it’s clear that Here We Are is unfinished because there’s hardly any music. The audience seemed absolutely up for the witty script, however—especially where modern life is parodied like the fancy restaurant where your order is taken by an “enabler”. On another occasion, the character who is most like someone from Company is emotionally overwrought by the death of her mobile phone.
The music is sparse and absolutely typically Sondheim in his late period. Songs are sparse and lyrically uncomplicated, so ironically they’re quite accessible but fleeting. You don’t need to go back and check a lyric because it was so quick and clever, although there are some lines that I’d love to hear again. As a final work of Sondheim it’s possibly typical of his esoteric sense of humour and passion for the oddness in character of those that are in his shows.
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