Music at the close. The adage is leave 'em wanting more, not less, but Stephen Sondheim has barely skirted the latter fate. At eighty-one, he's been erratically revising a problem child since 1999 that is now called, blandly, Road Show. Under various uninspired titles — Wise Guys, Gold!, and Bounce — the musical flipped and flopped around the country from Chicago to New York and Washington D.C. At every step of the way Sondheim, being Sondheim, attracted the biggest names to direct and star, including Hal Prince and Nathan Lane. But no luck.
Star-crossed Geliebte. The trouble with taking Shakespeare as your model is that you can't hide it and you will always be in his shadow. In 1784, writing his third play, Friedrich Schiller remixed the ingredients of Romeo and Juliet to concoct his perfervid tragedy, Luise Miller. Two lovers die by drinking poison at the end, and there are contending fathers, anguished partings, and extravagant avowals of undying passion ("undying" seems to be an automatic death sentence in the theater). Without the poetry, Shakespeare loses an immeasurable amount, but the twenty-four-year-old Schiller was left with a template for doomed romance. He made extraordinary use of it, and although Luise Miller contains no Mercutio, emotions get so capriciously out of hand that it can seem as if everyone on stage is a Mercutio.
If it were possible to bottle up the spirit of a place in a wine, my vote would go to the rosés of Provence. Warm, radiant, cheerful and decorously seductive, their appearance alone sparks the thought that a few sips …