As Kringas has heard ad nauseam, I saw the original Broadway production 5 times (in the $2 balcony tickets Hal Prince reserved for students), and I saw the first national tour once (up in Westchester somewhere), and NO I don't have my ticket stubs any more. I really don't care if you believe me or not.
I used to have an original window card too, up on the wall of my teenage bedroom, along with Company and Minnie's Boys and Celebration and Your Own Thing and many minor shows that seemed major to me at the time...all of which got lost or thrown out when my parents moved after I was in college. What can I say? You lose things in life. Isn't that what the show's about? You lose things and then you CHOOSE things. Or is that some other Sondheim show? (Or ALL of them?)
I was 15 and Follies became part of my life, part of who I am, how I view relationships and how I experience and process regret and nostalgia and passion. (Kringas and I were wondering: What is it about 15-year-old-gay boys and Follies? The allure seems to endure.) I dragged friends and relatives to those $2 tickets--and none of them loved it as much as I did, no one seemed as obsessed by it as I was. I would have been so happy if I had been able to log on to a BroadwayWorld and argue about Ethel Shutta vs. Fifi D'Orsay.
Later, after the show closed, when I was in my 20s and I was hopelessly in love, I was Dorothy Collins, leaning against the slantboard, Losing My Mind. When I was brittle and bitchy and breaking up with someone, I was Alexis Smith and WAIT! I was just beginning. When I was faced with big decisions they were the Road I Didn't Take--the words of which seemed so much more profound than Proust or Pound. When I couldn't find the Right Girl (well, Guy), it was because I had the God-Why-Don't-You Blues, but In Buddy's Eyes I was Young and Beautiful. And most of the time, I was a Clever-but-Ever-So-Sad Broadway Baby who was Still Here. Even when it rained, it went pit-pitty-pat, pit-pitty-pat-pitty. I oozed Follies through every pore.
I memorized every tongue-twisting word of The Girls Upstairs and Lucy and Jessie and Love Will See Us Through. They are still engraved in my mind, and I will probably end up in a nursing home someday, drooling and babbling to myself that Lucy wants to be classy and Jessie wants to be Lassie and soul-stirring / bolstering and what-the-hell-was-his-name, you know, the old guy?
I saw the 1985 concert twice--no ticket stubs, again, SORRY--once with a cherished ticket I really couldn't afford and once as the guest of a friend who was working with Great Performances. It was wonderful to see it and hear it again, but where, I wailed, were the ghosts? Where was Boris Aronson's set? Where were Florence Klotz's costumes? Where were those performers who could have been there--for REAL--and who weren't just "still alive" but still great! So what if Carol Burnett was Still Here--she had never been THERE to begin with! She may have been stinko by her pool but not because she'd been called pinko, like Yvonne DeCarlo and the gals of her generation had been.
Where was Ethel Barrymore Colt? Where was Mary McCarty, godamnit!
And where was Michael Bennett's magic?
But I watched the concert, somewhat melancholically, both times, bought the album, bought the CD, the laserdisc, the DVD, the London cast, met Dolores Gray and listened to her stories. I went to the Papermill (which was hard), the Roundabout (which made me ANGRY) and finally decided, that the Follies I loved can never be revived. It's gone, like the ticket stubs and the window card, like Michael Bennett's showgirl ghosts and the Weismann Theater and the rubble of the Roxy and Gloria Swanson.
"Oh dear God," as Sally says, "it
is tomorrow."
But you know what? I can't wait to see the Encores Follies. NOT because I think I'll see MY Follies again. I can't wait to see the Encores Follies because I'm going to see YOUR Follies.
And who knows? Maybe YOUR Follies will be good. REALLY good.
I hope so. As Phyllis says, "Hope doesn't grow on trees; we make our own and I am here to tell you it's the hardest thing we'll ever do."
Updated On: 1/28/07 at 09:02 AM