two rude questions about "christmas" movies

First Question:

When did "A Christmas Story" become "an iconic film"?  I guess I could ask the same about the equally lacking "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" which has also experienced that elevated status. I remember both films as being eminently forgettable and actually quite disposable.

But "A Christmas Story," released in 1983, comes immediately to mind because of the Fox channel's recent staging of the film's 2012 stage musical adaptation - an event that had been preceded by endless media coverage and promotions in which the word - yes - "iconic" was invoked.

I recall when that word was reserved for something of the stature of "Lawrence of Arabia" or "Vertigo," but "A Christmas Story"? Really?

Directed by Canada's Bob Clark from the Jean Shepherd novel, "In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash," the nostalgic movie was one of those works that is only a modest success theatrically but is discovered - and takes on a new life - in another medium. In this case, it was repeat showings on the cable channel TBS (or is it TNT?), becoming something of a television cult movie. Some people couldn't get enough. I don't get it.

When the musical version opened on Broadway, it was with little fanfare and was presented only as a "limited engagement."  It snagged a Tony nomination as best musical after it closed but didn't win. And it didn't matter because the show, like the film, would find its success far away from the usual limelight - this time, in regional theaters in the middle of the country. Again, people - the good denizens of the hinterlands - couldn't get enough of it.

But why? I got my answer when I caught a production number on a telecast - most likely The Tony Awards of 2013 - that involved a chorus of little boys brandishing toy rifles and singing about the glory of guns.

Wow. A right-wing musical. The material's appeal as both a film and a stage musical, which had evaded me, suddenly made sense.

I tried watching Fox's telecast - I'm a movie-musical  freak, after all - but couldn't take it. After about an hour, I switched over to Turner Classic's screening of Albert Brooks' "Real Life." Much better. Instant relief.

"A Christmas Story Live!," as it is urgently titled, takes the flimsy plot of the movie and stuffs it with overbearing. mediocre songs. Nothing's worse than an unctuous child actor with a trained singing voice and most the songs were sung by unctuous child actors with trained singing voices.

Everything they trilled sounded like "Tomorrow" from "Annie."

As advertised (and as the new title implies), "A Christmas Story" was played and aired "live," although it didn't feel or look "live" at all.

Dead would be more like it.

Second Question:

When did "The Sound of Music" officially become a Christmas movie? It has nothing to do with Christmas. There's not even one throwaway holiday scene in it. And yet, it's become ABC's annual holiday showing, with the network scheduling it in a whopping four-hour - 7 p.m. to 11 p.m. - slot.

It wasn't that long ago when ABC (which seemingly has lifetime TV rights to the film) routinely butchered the three-hour movie (actually, two-hour-and-54-minutes) to fit into a three-hour time slot that included at least a half-hour (probably more) of commercial breaks. Of course, this was before someone upgraded the film from merely iconic to sacrosanct.

How the film, which had a rather inauspicious start, became iconic/sacrosanct is interesting. When "The Sound of Music" opened on Broadway in 1959, its composers Rodger and Hammerstein were winding down and clearly needed one last big fat hit before they called it quits.

Their ploy was to slavishly reboot a previous hit, "The King and I." If you look closely, you'll notice that "The King and I" and "The Sound of Music" are the same show. But R&H shamelessly went a step further with a surefire formula that few people could resist - Nuns, Nazis and kids.

Despite at best respectable reviews (Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times was "disappointed that it succumbed to the clichés of operetta"), the show was an audience hit and somehow won the Tony for best musical of the season (besting "Fiorello" and "Gypsy"). Fox purchased the film rights and turned the property over to director Robert Wise (fresh off "West Side Story"), writer Ernest Lehman and music consultant Saul Chaplin. They Disney-fied the material, giving it a big - nay, an elephantine - contour.

Three of the show's better songs were dropped, replaced by a couple non-entities written by the complicit Richard Rodgers. (Oscar Hammerstein, long gone by now, had no say in the matter.) Like the play, the film opened to less than enthusiastic reviews, a few downright scathing.

Bosley Crowther, of The New York Times, devoted his initial review and a subsequent Sunday column to complaining about the corniness of the film and its pervasive mawkishness. Not good. Pauline Kael was famously fired by McCall's when she called the film "The Sound of Mucous." Kael referred to “the sugar-coated lie that people seem to want to eat. We have been turned into emotional and aesthetic imbeciles when we hear ourselves humming the sickly, goody-goody songs.” Fired? She deserved a bonus.

By the way, Kael's catchy retitle of the film, "The Sound of Mucous," has also been attributed to the film's embarrassed star, Christopher Plummer, although in recent years, he has exhibited only the highest regard for the movie whenever it celebrates an anniversary of its release.

Not surprisingly, despite the carping by what the filmmakers called elitist critics, the film managed to snag a whopping 10 Oscar nominations, including Best Picture - and actually won (!).  Of course, this was an era when roadshow musicals dominated the Oscars, often triumphing - "Gigi,""West Side Story," "My Fair Lady," "Oliver!" and "Funny Girl."

Even "Doctor Dolittle."

Yes, times have changed. And so has The N.Y. Times, whose capsule for the movie in its TV listng doesn't quote, or even reflect, Crowther's opinion of it - ★ Recommended Film: "Splendid all around, from scenery to score."

And before it took on the status of beloved film (and then iconic film and finally sacrosanct film), it also became a joke among moviegoers, to the detriment of star Julie Andrews' career. After making "Mary Poppins," "The Sound of Music" and "Thoroughly Modern Millie," she was abandoned by her audience. Her other collaboration with Wise, "Star!," was a huge financial and critical flop (despite being excellent) and she experienced a period when she was considered persona non grata among audiences and box-office poison for studios ("The Tamarind Seed" and "Darling Lili").

In the late 1960s-early '70s, both she and "The Sound of Music" were decidedly uncool.

Andrews had a good supporting role in husband Blake Edwards' "10" in 1979, but she really didn't bounce back until "Victor/Victoria" (also by Edwards) in 1982, 15 years after "Thoroughly Modern Millie."

At the time, it was called "The 'Sound of Music' Curse." No one remembers any of this now. And "curse" is one word that would never be attributed to the film these days. No, the word would now definitely be "sacrosanct."

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu and ... Merry Christmas!

Note in Passing: The stage versions of "The Sound of Music" and "A Christmas Story" share a common fact. Both played the Lunt-Fontanne Theater when they opened on Broadway. Fifty-five years apart.

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

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 ~images~
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~Robert Wise directing (from Left) Angela Cartwright, Duane Chase and Charmian Carr in "The Sound of Music," while make-up artists attend to the young stars; Carr looks none-too-happy as she seemingly glares at Wise.

 ~photography: Twentieth Century Fox 1965©

Peter Billingsley with his Red Ryder B.B. gun in the film of "A Christmas Story"

 ~photography: MGM 1983©

cinema obscura: Anne Bancroft's "Fatso" (1980)

Films fail for a variety of reasons, the most recurring one being neglect - by the studio that produced it, the critics who review it and a public that just doesn't care. Neglected films are what drives this site.

Case in point: Anne Bancroft's soulful "Fatso," her only directorial/writing credit. Released (half-heartedly) by 20th Century-Fox in 1980, the small, very small, taciturn film offered Dom DeLuise one of his few noteworthy film roles ("The End" is another) as Dominick DiNapoli, an unassuming guy with a weight problem and, by extention, body-image issues.

Two women come to his rescue - his sister, Antoinette (played by Bancroft herself), who tries to nudge him towards a healthier diet and lifestyle, and Lydia (the singular Candice Azzara), a neighborhood woman who is just the distraction that Dom needs. Bancroft's sure hand with her actors and the material is impressive. She handles both with the simplicity of a silent film; the DeLuise-Azzara courtship is like a tiny duet out of Chaplin.

The film, hastily dismissed upon release, seems downright prescient nearly 40 years later. Ahead of its time? Has its time finally come? Perhaps. Almost impossible to see, the affecting "Fatso" surfaced occasionally on HBO and, in its former incarnation, the Fox Movie Channel. But no more. And it had a brief DVD life, courtesy of Anchor Bay, in 2006. But no more. 

Note in Passing: Dom DeLuise directed his own film, for producer Ray Stark, a year earlier - "Hot Stuff," in which he co-starred with Jerry Reed, Suzanne Pleshette and Ossie Davis. Also lost and also appealing.

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

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~The poster art for "Fatso"

~Dom DeLuise with Anne Bancroft on the set of "Fatso" 

 ~photography: Twentieth Century Fox 1980©

critical quackery

Hollywood's season of unquenchable avarice officially kicked off early this morning - at 5:15 (pst) / 8:15 (est) - when the Hollywood Foreign Press Association announced its nominees in the 2017 Golden Globe race.

It's also a time when working professional critics (mostly in print) become more self-important and petty than usual, exploiting the popularity of the Golden Globes telecast by making derisive, left-handed comments about the Hollywood Foreign Press, questioning the group's "integrity" (or lack thereof) and identifying its members as mere "journalists" (or, worse yet, glorified "fans"), not bona fide critics like the snarky group on the attack.

But wait... A professional movie critic is as much a "mere journalist" as an HFP member from Norway and, the fact is, your average movie critic is no more qualified to comment on film than that HFP writer or, for that matter, some nerdy film buff pontificating on a computer in his parents' basement.

I use the gender identification "his" because most nerdy movie buffs are usually guys.

In a case of misplaced pride, a print movie critic thinks that he/she is somehow genetically superior to everyone else - the Hollywood Foreign Press, bloggers, the average moviegoer or anyone who dares to have an opinion on films - when the fact is, the only real difference is that someone (a newspaper or magazine editor) was smart (or stupid) enough to hire that person to cover the movie beat specifically and pay them. That's all.

But, of course, there's also a difference between an educated opinion and a casual one - and an educated opinion is invaluable and is what a good critic has to offer. I've met and become friends with dozens of movie critics during my years reviewing films and I can say with confidence that most of the ones whose work I admire (if not all of them) had no formal training in film or critical analysis of any sort. We all came from different scholastic backgrounds, we had different majors in college but we shared a passion for film that's been lifelong. We each started life as movie buffs and were blessed that someone was smart (or stupid) enough to hire us.

Our "educated opinions" on film were the result of obsessive moviegoing, repeat moviegoing (way before it became acceptable), reading reviews and books on movies, and "reading" movies themselves rather than just sitting there, passively, watching them. Nope, no "formal training" here.

It was self-education, pure and simple, and it continued on the job as one refined one's writing style and continually (and with much excitement) discovered elements in movies that one's readers might otherwise miss.

Anyone with a deep interest in film (and with the luck of the draw) could accomplish this. Timing is important (and, again, luck). I've known several writers, committed to film, who have dreamed for years - nay, decades - about becoming professional movie critics, a dream that's been evasive.

Sadly.

On the other hand, I've known more than a few newspaper writers who have landed the gig accidentally - plucked from somewhere else in the newsroom (the rewrite desk or sports section) to fill in occasionally and review a film or two - and who ended up with the title, "movie critic."

The good ones may already have had an interest in film or developed one while on the beat. The bad ones simply string adjectives around a movie synopsis - easy, lazy reviewing - and the reader learns ... nothing.

But they get hooked because, hey, movie criticism is a (seemingly) glamorous beat. Pauline Kael once complained that the danger of a bad critic is that, if he/she reviews movies long enough, the readers become accustomed to the critic's byline and writing style and, when this happens, editors are subsequently apprehensive about making a change.

The idea of who or what is a "movie critic" has morphed over the years, first with the advent of the home computer and then with the social-media blitz. Amateur movie critics who churn out opinions (sometimes educated, but mostly casual) on their sites can attract a following and think they're on par with professionals (sometimes they are, but mostly they aren't).

The movie-rating site, Rotten Tomatoes, provides exposure to what seems like thousands of "critics" (I've never had the patience or the time to count) and a wide majority of them are nobodies sharing the same stage as the somebodies, who are clearly in the minority. But there's a chance that some of these nobodies are better reviewers than the somebodies.

This movie-review madness can be traced directly to Siskel and Ebert and the various shows they hosted. There was a time when reviews of film attracted only a small, select group of newspaper readers - people interested in the arts in general and movies in particular. And critics were seen as stuffy professorial types, miserable and unpleasant and deserving of their misery (think Addison DeWitt or Anton Ego). This impression changed rather dramatically with Siskel and Ebert who were two regular guys sitting around talking about movies the way most men talk about sports. Roger and Gene popularized movie reviewing, bringing the profession out of the closet, so to speak.

Suddenly, everyone was an expert on movies and, with the internet providing a bottomless pit of resources, people who were limited previously to verbal opinions were now documenting them on-line as self-described "movie critics" or "film historians," titles never truly earned.

This trend watered down the importance of professional movie critics, exacerbated by Rotten Tomatoes which has legitimized a host of amateurs. Adding tension to the situation is the historic scarcity of movie-beat jobs at daily newspapers (which are the only full-time reviewing jobs where one can earn a living wage and live well). And it's become more acute as papers have reduced the beat from two or three working critics to one - or simply terminated the beat altogether, opting for wire reviews.

Because of the limited number of movie-reviewing positions, there have always been few opportunities for a newcomer to gain entry, largely because the people who held these positions stayed in them until they literally keeled over. Case in point: Roger Ebert, who was at the Chicago Sun-Times for 40-plus years and was still writing days before he passed.

Now, it's almost impossible. There have been no fresh faces among movie critics for a long time, only the usual suspects who have been at it for decades now and will remain in place (until they start keeling over one by one). So, perhaps, their snarkiness towards the HFP is understandable.

Movie critics - cognizant of the rarity of their jobs and the presence of those more than eager to replace them (often frenemies) - have always been insecure creatures. Only it's worse now, with critics having to:

• feign enthusiasm about the latest unreviewable franchise drivel,

• keep negativity in check (or run the risk of being accused of not really "liking" movies),

• exhibit to editors one's "connection" with the readership,

• demonstrate that connection with examples of hefty reader feedback/emails. 

• or pray for a myriad of clicks via the paper's tracking, and

• prove that no one else could possibly do the job as well as you, certainly no fraud with a blog or that unctuous new copy boy.

And, by all means, maintain an acrid, droll writing style that produces acceptable quotes for the display ads. Which, like critics, have dwindled.

Note in Passing: The title of this essay is a used one. On my first day as a movie critic - back in the late 1960s when I was in my early 20s - my editor handed me a slim volume titled "Critical Quackery (Why  Critics Are Guilty of It and How to See Through It)" by Theodore L. Shaw. Which was, at once, intimidating and demoralizing, given that Shaw accused all critics of "humbug," but also inspiring. It leveled me. High from being hired for my dream job, and at such a young age, it was promptly sobering.

Thanks to that editor, Al, and to Shaw.

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

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 ~images~

~George Sanders demonstrating his smirk as Addison DeWitt in "All About Eve"

 ~photography: Twentieth Century Fox 1950©

~The critic Pauline Kael 

~Anton Ego in "Ratatouille"
 ~photography: Pixar/Disney 2007©
 

~The critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert

cinema obscura: Joseph Sargent's "Colossus: The Forbin Project" (1970)/redux

Influenced by Glenn Erickson who referenced it recently on his CineSavant site, I felt compelled to dig my 2010 review of Joseph Sargent's fabulous "Colossus: The Forbin Project" out of the mothballs and re-run it (replete with original reader comments). Not coincidentally, I've been nagged by a proposed Ron Howard remake of the film, which was originally announced a decade ago, in 2007. Will Smith signed on as star, per 2010 reports, and in 2013, Smith brought his "Men in Black" scenarist, Ed Solomon, on board to do the adaptation. At that point, there was no indication whether Howard was still actively involved. Frankly, it's unclear if the remake is still a go.

Got that?

Sargent (1925-2014), born Giuseppe Danielle Sorgente (albeit in Jersey City), has been a hugely neglected filmmaker. He was something of an adjustable wrench among directors, given that he could handle just about any genre effortlessly and without narcissistically stamping his name on it.

As a filmmaker, he tended to disappear within his subject matter, as evidenced by his output which includes the original (and superior) "The Taking of Pelham One Two Three" (1974), Burt Reynolds' pleasing "White Lightning" (1973), the solid war flick "The Hell with Heroes" (1968), Gregory Peck's "MacArthur" (1977), Susan Anton's underrated "Goldengirl" (1979) and the Robert Blake-Dyan Cannon lark "Coast to Coast" (1980).

And there were several impressive TV films - "Hustling" (1975) with Lee Remick and Jill Clayburgh, the incredibly popular "Sunshine" (1973) with Cristina Raines and "The Man" (1972), which was was detoured into theaters before actually playing on network TV. And with good reason.

Adapted by Rod Serling from Irving Wallace's novel, "The Man" stars James Earl Jones as the first black President. A tad ahead of its time.

But my favorite Sargent film remains 1970's juicy "Colossus: The Forbin Project," a title that has always been available on home entertainment but is honored here because, despite enthusiastic reviews, this terrific movie has never been given its due - by either its studio or the viewing public.

Adapted by filmmaker James Bridges from the D.F. Jones novel, the preternaturally observant movie details - in an immensely entertaining fashion - how a sophisticated computer, named Colossus, designed ostensibly to control the country's nuclear defense network, goes berserk with power, turning on its creator, Dr. Charles Forbin.

Colossus ultimately joins forces with its Soviet counterpart, Guardian, to become a single Super Power bent on taking over the world from humans. Not unexpectedly, Sargent's film is effectively creepy, but also unexpectedly witty.

Eric Braeden is commanding as Dr. Forbin in a performance that should have led to bigger and better things. For one, Braeden would have made a terrific 007. Instead, this fine actor has enjoyed a lengthy, lucrative run as the willfully evil patriach, Victor Newman, on NBC's excellent (and compulsively watchable) daytime drama, "The Young and the Restless."

Braeden's daily performances on the show come with an effortless grace and a wicked sense of humor, so much so that I still continually fantasize about what a wonderful Bond he would have been. Inarguably.

His co-stars in "Colossus" are Susan Clark, as the thinking man's love interest, and Canada's Gordon Pinsent as the Kennedy-like President of the United States. Both provide atypically combative support as each one spars with Braeden over his beloved demon child.

Universal, alas, exhibited limited interest in the film which had the working title "Colossus" in production, was released initially as "The Forbin Project" and then as "Colossus: The Forbin Project" for a half-hearted reissue.

Funny thing, all three titles are fine. The movie itself is better than fine.

Note in Passing: This review was originally published on November 22, 2010. 

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

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~Eric Braeden in a scene from"Colossus: The Forbin Project"

~The cover page of James Bridges' script for the film when it was simply titled "Colossus." 

~ Braeden in a scene from the film

~Photography: Universal (1970)© 

stephen's folly

My wife and I spent a pleasing afternoon recently in Princeton, New Jersey - specifically at the campus movie house, the Garden Theater, where we saw the National Theater Live screening of the current London revival of Stephen Sondheim's hugely creative one-act musical, "Follies," from 1971.

I had seen the original - in another lifetime - at the Winter Garden Theater in New York and remember it as an unusually singular, once-in-a-lifetime musical experience. James Goldman's book for the show ostensibly deals with the reunion of former showgirls from decades earlier who performed for Dimitri Weissmann at his eponymous theater which, in 1971, is in the throes of being razed. There are dozens of characters but "Follies" is interested largely in only two of the women, the unpretentious Sally and the imperious Phyllis, their respective husbands, Buddy and Ben, and - here's where the show gets tricky - their former selves as young people.

There is no "plot," per se, as Sondheim himself has been quick to point out, just two pseudo-storylines of bits and pieces running parallel to each other. As the older Sally, Phyllis, Buddy and Ben circle each other, making bitter accusations, their younger selves shadow them, like ghosts, and often, the young and the old characters intermingle. It's quite intricate and, as such, camouflages the fact that "Follies" really has no heft as a story or that, at best, it's a cliche about mismatched, unfulfilled partners.

Still, it's transfixing. And those Sondheim songs!  "Broadway Baby", "I'm Still Here", "Too Many Mornings", "Could I Leave You?", "In Buddy's Eyes," "Waiting for the Girls Upstairs," "The God-Why-Don't-You-Love-Me Blues," "Losing My Mind" and "The Right Girl." Sondheim wrote a whopping 20-plus songs for the show and, reportedly, tossed just as many more.

I could go on.

The original production was one of the costliest stage musicals ever mounted. Sondheim has referred to it often ( and with a sense of humor, I gather) as a "pastiche" - yes, but a rather expensive pastiche, I'd say. It  was an artistic/critical success but not a financial one.

Given that, it came as something of a surprise when, in the late 1970s, rumors circulated that Fox wanted to film "Follies" with Doris Day as Phyllis and Debbie Reynolds as Sally, terrific, spot-on casting of those two roles. One can only imagine what the film would have been like, but it was never made and my hunch is that what Sondheim, Goldman and director Hal Prince achieved on the stage was simply resistant to any kind of adaptation - an effective film that would work on its own terms.

Because of its scale, "Follies" has been rarely revived. In 1985, it was staged by Herbert Ross in concert form at Lincoln Center's Avery Fisher Hall, with Lee Remick as Phyllis and Barbara Cook as Sally, as well as Carol Burnett, Mandy Patinkin, George Hearn, Elaine Stritch, Phyllis Newman and Adolph Green and Betty Comden. There was a full 2001 Broadway revival with Blythe Danner as Phyllis and Judith Ivey as Sally - and Treat Williams, Gregory Harrison, Betty Garrett and Polly Bergen.

But I still have dreams about what might have been with Day and Reynolds in a film version and I believe that a '70s filmmaker with a great imagination (Altman perhaps?) could have conquered the adaptation, especially considering that "Follies" on stage was already quite cinematic. 

But, for all intent and purposes, the taped version of Britian's National Theater revival is the film version of "Follies." Dominic Cooke's staging brings a filmmaker's eye to the material and the work of the director who filmed Cooke's staging, Tim Van Someren, heightens everything with visuals that swoop and sway, moving in tandem with the performers and often zooming upward and looking down at the activity on the proscenium.

It is certainly the definitive "Follies," with Imelda Staunton bringing an exciting new dimension (and a movie intimacy) to the role of Sally.

The National Theater version also preserves the original's free-flowing structure. All of the subsequent revivals inserted an intermission break.

It runs two hours and thirty minutes without pause.

Stephen Sondheim and movies have always been an uneasy mix, despite his enthusiasm (often misplaced and too generous) for the few films made from his work. Only the films of "West Side Story" (1961) and "Gypsy" (1962) - his collaborations as lyricist with Leonard Bernstein and Jule Styne, respectively - are faithful renderings of their stage counterparts.

"A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" (1966), his first solo show, was given an art-film, European feel by director Richard Lester and is fun to watch - but, on film, is not much of a musical anymore.

What happened to all the songs?

A decade later, a truncated movie of "A Little Night Music" (1977) - filmed by its stage director Hal Prince, no less - came along and ... ditto. Where are the songs? One can almost see scissors clipping the songs "The Miller's Son" and "Liaisons" out of the film (and, yes, they were indeed filmed).

There have been filmed stage versions of "Pacific Overtures" (1976), "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" (1982), "Sunday in the Park with George" (1986), "Into the Woods" (1991), "Passion" (1996), "Putting It Together" (1996), "Company" (2007) and "Merrily, We Roll Along (2013), all faithful and all of which went to TV (usually PBS).

Both "Sweeney Todd" and "Into the Woods" were made into feature films that, for some bizarre reason, Sondheim endorsed. "Sweeney" (2007), filmed by Tim Burton, deleted some precious songs, including the necessary "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd," and completely eliminated the show's chorus. This meant that the song, "God, That's Good!," no longer included those words among its lyric. As for "Into the Woods" (2013), directed by Rob Marshall, one watches it and wonders why it was such a sensation on stage.

Currently, Sondheim is represented on screen by Greta Gerwig's marvelous "Lady Bird," in which her teenage characters elect to perform "Merrily, We Roll Along" as their annual school musical. One of its best - and most eclectic - moments in the film comes when Saoirse Ronan auditions for the show by singing Sondheim's "Everybody Says Don't!" from 1962's "Anyone Can Whistle," sung by Harry Guardino in the original. Just fabulous.

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

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(from top)

~Gloria Swanson, in a photo that inspired "Follies," posing at what once was New York's Roxy Theater in October of 1960.

~Photography: Eliot Elisofon/Life magazine 1960©

~One-sheet poster for the original 1971 Broadway production of "Follies"

 ~Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds at a studio event in the 1950s; they were once considered for a film version of "Follies" 

~Photography: MGM 1958©

~Imelda Staunton in the 2017 London revival of "Follies"

~National Theater 2017©

~Stephen Sondheim, circa 1990

~Saoirse Ronan singing Sondheim's "Everybody Says Don't" in "Lady Bird"

~A24 2017©