When going through The Marvin Trilogy, I was curious to know what the small differences that separated it from Falsettos were. I knew what the endgame looked like, but I was curious how In Trousers, March of the Falsettos, and Falsettoland had evolved over the course of songwriter William Finn’s career. After all, it was a 17-year journey from his debut where he talked about Marvin’s giddy seizures reflecting the existential musicals of the 1970s (Company, A Chorus Line, etc.). It was a good starting point, but with the 1980s and the rise of the AIDS epidemic as well as fruitful collaborations with stage director James Lapine, the character of Marvin continued to become a much more interesting entity.
What may be the most interesting thing to discover is that 1992 wasn’t the end of the fine-tuning. If one was to watch the bootleg on YouTube, the 1990’s professional production was more emblematic of what came before. If you talk to Lapine, he will tell you that March of the Falsettos was made using whatever they could find in their local theater basement. That ethos carried over here, where there was a minimalist set with doorframes and furniture as well as a VERY different choreography to what the revival would have in 2016.
In a move that would prove to be ironic, I went to see Falsettos on Father’s Day 2019 at The Ahmanson Theater. The most that I knew about it came from a Tony Awards performance where, among the cast, was Elder Price himself Andrew Rannells playing Whizzer Brown as he got into a game of racquetball. As a devout fan of The Book of Mormon, I wanted to see it immediately. I had no idea what it was about, but I was taken in by the artwork, which attempted to make the whole thing into this romantic comedy pastiche. Every prominent actor was encased in a heart with an arrow pointing to another in such a way that was delightfully confusing.
It’s easy to say that I didn’t get to see Rannells or the equally great Christian Borle as Marvin. When you’re seeing tours of Broadway hits, you’re usually getting something else. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still amazing actors and brought these characters to life with such raw honesty, capturing the humor and pain in ways that pulled me into the world immediately.
I start with the revival because, on one hand, I don’t think the original 1992 run is necessarily an interesting story. It was just a continuation of the unexpected luck that Finn and Lapine had experienced over the past few decades. They captured the moment beautifully, and the timeliness of Falsettoland by 1992 is telling how AIDS and the queer conversation was still evolving into something richer and more sympathetic. I am proud of the fact that it currently exists as one cohesive show, but given that its budget didn’t even exceed a million dollars (cheap for Broadway), it was always a long shot that mostly got by thanks to a great review by The New York Times and the push to not just make it a show targeted at the LGBT community.
By 2016, I feel like so much of its identity was more accepted. I also think that despite taking place between 1979 and 1981, it feels painfully relevant to this day. I wouldn’t change a single piece of this show because at its core it’s a study of something other than AIDS. It’s about the people we love, our own struggles with identity, and what it means to be a man. Sure, some can now see the story as vaguely misogynistic, but it only adds to the complicated mess that is Marvin’s life. Having lived with him over the past month, I’m so thankful that Marvin was more than In Trousers. If it was just In Trousers, I doubt anyone would care about him, or even Finn for that matter.
With that said, I was taken aback by the set design of the revival. If you go in knowing nothing about the show, it becomes even more astounding to know what they do with a different kind of minimalism.
When you enter the theater, you’re presented with a cityscape backdrop and this strange cube. I personally would compare the look to The Avengers’ (2012) Tesseract with how it had this ominous glow, making you think that something inside was going to pop out and give this surreal story. Maybe this was a tale of aliens. You can’t really know. Even with an idea that the show is split up into two different eras (“March of the Falsettos” and “Falsettoland”), it’s not clear what this symbolizes or why it’s there.
In interviews, Finn and Lapine harped on the idea that this cube was symbolic of how the characters were childlike, able to compartmentalize their entire lives into this ball. It’s childlike in nature, like dismantling LEGO sets and reassembling them as furniture, doorways, benches, or anything else that the story required. I swear they even were pulling props out of them as the story progressed, such as a central chessboard that informed Jason’s struggle to relate to anyone.
I want to note that I haven’t watched the entire bootleg of the original Falsettos, but the similarities are few and far between. In 1992, it was still trying to find its place in a contemporary setting so much that some of the more fantastical elements were often toned down. It looked like a normal drama, albeit with these peppy songs that highlighted the cast’s higher singing registers. While the show has gradually calmed down over each iteration, it still benefits from this sense of camp and exaggeration that adds to the comedy. Oh yeah, and Chip Zien is there, this time playing Mendel. As the original Marvin in In Trousers, it’s nice to know that there’s some loyalty there.
Then there’s the revival. Besides set design, the most noticeable shift came during two numbers: “Four Jews in a Room Bitching” and “March of the Falsettos.” In the former, the four male cast members dress in ancient Hebrew costumes before progressing through the song to a more contemporary form of dress. Similarly, the latter song has an ominous, almost glow in the dark, light as the male actors wander the stage in childish spinner hats.
The budget clearly is reflective in every small decision made, and I think it enhances how the story is interpreted. For instance, I think to have the opening song feature idiosyncratic costuming, it ties the events of Marvin’s life to his Jewish identity in ways that go through centuries, where many Jews were in many rooms bitching. It also has more of a focused choreography that draws you in. This may not be the first professional production, but it’s the first to feel that way like it’s finally getting the respect that it deserves.
I can’t speak to how it played in 1992 because my mind is so jaded by the revival production that I saw. It’s what made me fall in love with the show initially and consider it the best LGBT musical in history (also tied with Ragtime for my favorite musical of the 1990s). The music was so stark and full of this complex personality and rhythmic structure that got to the heart of characters. The set design was so avant-garde that I couldn’t see it any other way. This was one of the best productions I had ever seen and to see Falsettos in any other light feels sacrilegious. Why wouldn’t it always exist with this rich symbolic cube being torn apart?
As the last Broadway show of the 1992 season, it had plenty to live up to. I am personally not well-versed in stage history, but I like to imagine that there was something groundbreaking about this show. It was a conversation that the mainstream wasn’t really having. For instance, we were coming off of The George H.W. Bush Administration who refused to acknowledge the AIDS crisis. To have it expressed through art showed this stretch into a more sympathetic and human take. The whole show isn’t about how Marvin is gay, but how he’s struggling to be normal amid his neurotic Jewish identity and lackluster masculinity.
That may be why Falsettos lost at The 46th Tony Awards’ Best Musical to Ken Ludwig’s Crazy for You. I wish I could be more critical, but again I’m not an expert nor am I familiar with Ludwig’s work. Even with that said, I wonder if it was a case of The Tony Awards not recognizing an openly queer work whose protagonist was a mess and sometimes unsympathetic. Sure La Cage Aux Folles was about cross-dressers, but that story ended with the much happier conclusion “everyone is weird in their own way.” It remains bold, reflecting an archetype that has barely become more common in media since. I wish I knew how this show played in 1992 because it feels like one of those cases where the legacy it spawned has overshadowed its original run.
With all of that said, it wasn’t a total wash. Of its seven nominations, it won two for Finn: Best Book of a Musical (shared with Lapine) and Best Score. Other noteworthy nominations included Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Musical for Michael Rupert (Marvin), and Best Performance by a Featured Actress for Barbara Walsh (Trina). Alas, poor Chip Zien never received a Tony nomination.
The revival, while winning zero, had a more balanced reflection of the cast with every prominent actor being nominated. With exception to Best Revival of a Musical, the four other nominations went to actors Rannels (Whizzer), Borle (Marvin), Brandon Uranowitz (Mendel), and Stephanie J. Block (Trina). The show would lose to the Bette Midler-lead revival of Hello, Dolly!
If there is one thing that I’m thankful for with the Falsettos revival, it’s the choice to film part of its run at The Lincoln Center. While I wouldn’t personally watch it until after Father’s Day 2019, I found myself growing enamored that such a creative, fully realized version of the show could be captured for those audiences who wouldn’t be able to watch it. If it was up to me, every noteworthy show would be preserved in celluloid amber, allowing audiences to answer the question “What’s so special about The Book of Mormon?” not with some bad bootleg or lacking film adaptation, but the original moment captured in all of its brilliance as Rannells ascended to greatness by ringing a doorbell.
It also makes my job easier in explaining what makes the Falsettos revival so essential as a piece of theater. You can see what I mean when I say that you can dismantle the stage and reassemble it as various props. Everything is present here with excellent directing from who else by James Lapine. Considering his incredible work bringing Sunday in the Park with George and Into the Woods to mass markets, I’m glad he’s here to capture his vision in a way that’s powerful. Also, it kind of captures the exact reason I love Rannells and Borle as actors in every decision they make.
My journey through the Falsettos franchise is one that feels far more rewarding than I thought. For the first time, I notice how a show can evolve over decades, where the moment informs source material and can enhance aspects that didn’t make sense before. Even with the final product, I notice how a revival can breathe new life into a story and make it something better.
Most of all, I think that I realize how great William Finn is at his job. Even if he never quite had the consistency in hits that Stephen Sondheim did (someone he was often compared to), he was usually capable of this wit and soul within his characters that made you empathize, finding some small part of these oddballs in yourself. With Falsettos, he made queer culture into something more familiar, taking time to explore Judaism and masculinity – these ideas that don’t really have much to do with the AIDS crisis. Like the set design, these are all just small pieces in our life’s bigger puzzle.
I wish that there were more shows like Falsettos that I could dedicate a month to and find far more substance than what I had initially seen. Even if I’d love to write a piece about Finn’s other hit, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, I don’t know that it would last me more than a week. If nothing else, Falsettos was a special case that managed to appear differently throughout its existence. I don’t know too many shows that could pull it off while launching prominent careers. As Finn would put it, I guess that’s just the miracle of Judaism.
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