We walked in assuming the Follies magic would unfold all over again. It hadn't occurred to either one of us that there could even BE a Follies that would not enrapture us.
But we walked in and it was not the same set. And the atmosphere was not as eerie. And then the ghosts started to enter. And they weren't as tall, and there weren't as many, and the music sounded different.
And then Jane Kean ran out. Jane Kean from the Honeymooners! But she wasn't as warm and she wasn't as luscious as Dorothy Collins. And then Vivian Blaine entered with Robert Alda (they were both in Guys and Dolls!)...but she wasn't as sharp or as stunning as Alexis Smith and he was...well, boring.
And then the show unfolded, but it wasn't the same--and, ugh, that awful intermission! Arlene and I could barely look at each during the intermission. How could our Follies be so...mediocre?
And as we drove back to the city in Arlene's Volkswagen, we realized that what we had seen at the Winter Garden would never be re-created. Ever.
The ladies old enough to have performed in the Weisman Follies would soon be dead, producers would stop spending money on such lavish productions...
Any Follies ever mounted would be nothing more than a pale imitation of the Follies that we saw, the Follies we had loved, despite its faults, despite its excesses...because of its faults, because of its excesses.
It hadn't dawned on us, until we saw Follies at the Westchester County Payhouse, that the very idea of the show--that the past is at once gone forever and never gone--would actually be true about the show itself. It was gone forever but it would haunt us until the days we died.
Updated On: 10/31/13 at 10:37 PM