Since the death, at 91, of historic songwriting genius Stephen Sondheim, dozens of concerts, cabaret shows, television specials and Broadway “revues” have honored his memory and celebrated the passion, talent and versatility of his musical heart and soul. The latest contribution to that astounding body of work is Sondheim’s Old Friends, a pleasant if uneven collection of the maestro’s sometimes hollowly directed but nearly always unforgettable repertoire. To perform 40 overwhelming, hard-to-sing songs of varying lengths, tempos, styles, range and volume is a monumental task, but with a dynamic cast headed by Bernadette Peters and Lea Salonga, there’s no room for anxiety. You go away sated.
There’s enough drama and excitement here to elevate the production above and beyond the status of a cabaret act, but sometimes you wonder how long it will take for the show to ignite. It’s two acts divided into very different levels of accomplishment, and Act One on the night I saw it was slow as Christmas getting started. The entire exercise, devised by British producer Cameron Mackintosh, is restricted only to excerpts from the shows he personally supervised. This explains the absence of anything from such estimable Sondheim favorites as Saturday Night, Anyone Can Whistle and Pacific Overtures. Those were not important scores, you might argue, but in my opinion, great songs such as “With So Little to Be Sure Of,” Lee Remick’s tender solo ballad “Anyone Can Whistle,” as well as “A Parade in Town” and “Me and My Town,” Angela Lansbury’s two showstoppers from Anyone Can Whistle, and the great “Someone in a A Tree” from Pacific Overtures would be far more fabulous inclusions than the minor distractions “Everybody Oughta Have a Maid” from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and the forgettable filler from Into the Woods.
Worse still, the group numbers suffer from the uninspired and totally predictable direction by Matthew Bourne that encourages the cast to time every lyric, and emphasize every key word down to precise movements. The three girls who sing “You Could Drive a Person Crazy” (from Company) emphasize the word “crazy” by rolling their fingers around in circles next to their temples, and on the word “gay,” they go limp-wristed. Ouch.
Smoking references are illustrated by simulated puffing and sex by actual genital grabbing. So much exaggeration in the endless grinning and eye rolling is corny and obvious, not to mention redundant and amateurish. Musically, you’re prevented the joy of discovering any semblance of surprise in your own special way, and if Sondheim was praised for constantly reaching new heights of discovery, it was always in the discovery of fresh new ways to hear and think about words. Still, in spite of its hackneyed and irritating cliches, Act One manages to fill a lot of voids with the Bernadette Peters-Lea Salonga duet “Children Will Listen,” and although nobody comes anywhere close to Angela Lansbury’s definitive characterization of Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd, Lea Salonga’s hilarious spin convinced me she made “The Worst Pies in London.” By the end of the first act, the highlights were outnumbered by blandness, one notable exception being a tremendous spot by Joanna Riding, who owns the stage with “I’m Not Getting Married Today” and conquering the tongue-twisting lyrics with minimum hand gestures and maximum cleverness. The songs are wonderful, as always, but the delivery otherwise disappoints. Even Bernadette Peters, not the best voice when I saw the show, appears to deliberately avoid her usual perfection, singing “Send in the Clowns” with a pinched nasality and delivering “Hello Little Girl,” one of the mediocre fairytale songs from Into the Woods, with a boop-boop-a-doop squeak that sounds more Betty Boop than Little Red Riding Hood.
Then something miraculous happened. It’s as though someone went backstage during intermission, informed the cast the show was wandering off into dull, uncharted territory, and pleaded with everyone to pick up the pace. Whatever occurred, the result was an astonishing second act, bringing down the house with one show-stopper after another. Bernadette knocked “Broadway Baby” out of the park, then knocked the audience out of its socks as one of the three strippers in Gypsy—bumping, grinding and playing the trumpet to a standing ovation. The Follies section happily resurrected the seldom-heard “Waiting Around for the Girls Upstairs.” Gavin Lee is no Alexis Smith, but he milked every complex, passionate emotion out of her “Could I Leave You,” and although after the unsurpassed Polly Bergen in the Broadway revival nailed it for good and always, “I’m Still Here” benefitted from Bonnie Langford’s personal interpretation in a way I never unexpected. Stephen Sondheim’s Old Friends—especially the second act—is a musical evening to cherish.
My advice: Give up the idea of trying to over-analyze any and every Sondheim revue (there will be more to come) and just sit back and let the songs wash over you. Best of all, pour yourself a glass of vintage port, re-visit the superb recordings that distinguish the world of theatre music and marvel at the myriad ways he intended to be interpreted. Sondheim lives forever on vinyl.
Stephen Sondheim’s Old Friends | 2hr 45mins. One intermission. | Samuel J. Friedman Theatre | Last Show: Sun, June 15, 2025 | 261 West 47th Street | 212-399-3000 | Buy Tickets Here
