© The Sondheim Review Summer 1998 At Paper Mill, Follies as musical comedy By Paul Salsini
Audiences entering the Paper Mill Playhouse for the revival of Follies this spring faced a huge canvas painted with the words “Safety Curtain”. That was the last bit of subtlety they would see for the evening. The Follies in Millburn, New Jersey, the first major professional revival in the New York area since the original Broadway production in 1971, showcased its, flaunted its sets and, with a revised book by James Goldman, gave us a happy ending. Unfortunately, this was Follies as musical comedy, not musical theater. On Broadway, Follies was a searing, surreal production in which Boris Aronson's vast set, Florence Klotz' costumes, Tharon Musser's lighting, Michael Bennett's choreography and, most of all, Hal Prince's direction, plumbed the depth of Stephen Sondheim's score and Goldman's book. This was not just a story of showgirls reuniting at their old theater before it is destroyed. It was about the follies of their lives, especially those of Ben and Phyllis and Buddy and Sally, and of how past and present, reality and fantasy are never quite distinguishable. At Paper Mill, there was much to admire. The cast was almost uniformly excellent, the songs were well sung and the choreography delightful. Sondheim's astonishing score remained intact, with “Ah, But Underneath” from the London production replacing “The Story of Lucy and Jessie”. This Follies, directed by Robert Johanson, was a huge production, fairly screaming, “Look at how much money we're spending”. (The official cost was $6oo,ooo, but was rumored to be more than twice that.) There were so many sets sliding in and out and coming down from above that we forgot that a theater was being destroyed. A grand staircase was hauled out for the “Beautiful Girls” and a long banquet table was on stage for about two minutes. But for Follies to be everything it was intended to be, layer after layer must be stripped away to reveal its soul. We cannot be overpowered by the scenery (Michael Anania), the costumes (Gregg Barnes), or the relentlessly cheery lighting (Mark Stanley). The emphasis on the physical production dampened the emotional core of the show. Most damaged was the heartbreaking "Losing My Mind", part of a particularly garish Loveland sequence. For a woman immobilized by terror and on the verge of a breakdown, a simple spotlight should suffice. At Paper Mill, Johanson surrounded Sally (Dona McKechnie) with five huge, ugly pillars, dressed her in a frumpy evening gown and had her pace the stage groping for the walls. The cast, equal in size to the original Broadway production, spilled in out the side boxes that were only occasionally functional. They seemed to be everywhere during "One More Kiss". (Were those really monks holding candelabra in a dungeon?) Besides editing the book, Goldman shifted scenes and added lines, giving us yet another version of Follies. The older troupers now have a little more to do and they return during and after Loveland. The ending is still happier than one would expect from what had come earlier. Of the original cast, this viewer believes that Dorothy Collins is irreplaceable. McKechnie comes close, but was lost in Loveland. Dee Hoty was fine as the steely Phyllis and Tony Roberts as the gruff Buddy. Laurence Guittard made "Live, Laugh, Love" such a shattering experience that we wished the entire show had had such depth. As their younger selves, Danette Holden, Meredith Patterson, Michael Gruber and Billy Hartung were just right. Of the others, Kaye Ballard gave a new interpretation to "Broadway Baby" and Phyllis Newman led the women in a rousing "Who's That Woman?" that used Bennett's original choreography. As Weismann, Eddie Bracken didn't have many lines, but he said them v-e-r-y slowly. Then there was Ann Miller, who has received almost as much attention as the show itself. She wore a glitzy gown and belted out her song, and we were amazed and pleased that she is "still here". But she wasn't quite right. Rather like the Paper Mill's Follies. main Follies page

Audiences entering the Paper Mill Playhouse for the revival of Follies this spring faced a huge canvas painted with the words “Safety Curtain”. That was the last bit of subtlety they would see for the evening. The Follies in Millburn, New Jersey, the first major professional revival in the New York area since the original Broadway production in 1971, showcased its, flaunted its sets and, with a revised book by James Goldman, gave us a happy ending. Unfortunately, this was Follies as musical comedy, not musical theater.

On Broadway, Follies was a searing, surreal production in which Boris Aronson's vast set, Florence Klotz' costumes, Tharon Musser's lighting, Michael Bennett's choreography and, most of all, Hal Prince's direction, plumbed the depth of Stephen Sondheim's score and Goldman's book. This was not just a story of showgirls reuniting at their old theater before it is destroyed. It was about the follies of their lives, especially those of Ben and Phyllis and Buddy and Sally, and of how past and present, reality and fantasy are never quite distinguishable.

At Paper Mill, there was much to admire. The cast was almost uniformly excellent, the songs were well sung and the choreography delightful. Sondheim's astonishing score remained intact, with “Ah, But Underneath” from the London production replacing “The Story of Lucy and Jessie”.

This Follies, directed by Robert Johanson, was a huge production, fairly screaming, “Look at how much money we're spending”. (The official cost was $6oo,ooo, but was rumored to be more than twice that.) There were so many sets sliding in and out and coming down from above that we forgot that a theater was being destroyed. A grand staircase was hauled out for the “Beautiful Girls” and a long banquet table was on stage for about two minutes.

But for Follies to be everything it was intended to be, layer after layer must be stripped away to reveal its soul. We cannot be overpowered by the scenery (Michael Anania), the costumes (Gregg Barnes), or the relentlessly cheery lighting (Mark Stanley).

The emphasis on the physical production dampened the emotional core of the show. Most damaged was the heartbreaking "Losing My Mind", part of a particularly garish Loveland sequence. For a woman immobilized by terror and on the verge of a breakdown, a simple spotlight should suffice. At Paper Mill, Johanson surrounded Sally (Dona McKechnie) with five huge, ugly pillars, dressed her in a frumpy evening gown and had her pace the stage groping for the walls.

The cast, equal in size to the original Broadway production, spilled in out the side boxes that were only occasionally functional. They seemed to be everywhere during "One More Kiss". (Were those really monks holding candelabra in a dungeon?)

Besides editing the book, Goldman shifted scenes and added lines, giving us yet another version of Follies. The older troupers now have a little more to do and they return during and after Loveland. The ending is still happier than one would expect from what had come earlier.

Of the original cast, this viewer believes that Dorothy Collins is irreplaceable. McKechnie comes close, but was lost in Loveland. Dee Hoty was fine as the steely Phyllis and Tony Roberts as the gruff Buddy. Laurence Guittard made "Live, Laugh, Love" such a shattering experience that we wished the entire show had had such depth.

As their younger selves, Danette Holden, Meredith Patterson, Michael Gruber and Billy Hartung were just right. Of the others, Kaye Ballard gave a new interpretation to "Broadway Baby" and Phyllis Newman led the women in a rousing "Who's That Woman?" that used Bennett's original choreography. As Weismann, Eddie Bracken didn't have many lines, but he said them v-e-r-y slowly.

Then there was Ann Miller, who has received almost as much attention as the show itself. She wore a glitzy gown and belted out her song, and we were amazed and pleased that she is "still here". But she wasn't quite right. Rather like the Paper Mill's Follies.

main Follies page