Art Isn’t Easy

THE 1985 PULITZER PRIZE-WINNING MUSICAL “Sunday in the Park with George” makes its Glimmerglass Festival debut in a handsome, enthusiastic, but flawed production. It inspired the theme of the current season, “The Art of Making Art,” which is drawn from a lyric in the show.

An amazing cast fuels this production. John Riddle and Marina Pires carry the show through two challenging acts, and though I detected some first-night nerves at the top of the opening-night performance, they quickly settled into the world of the piece with virtuosic aplomb. Riddle is George. In Act One, he’s the painter George Seurat; Act Two returns him as the painter’s (fictional) great-grandson, also named George, who is an artist using laser technology.

John Riddle as George and Marina Pires as Dot (far R) 
with the ensemble. Photo by Brent DeLanoy/
The Glimmerglass Festival.

Pires is Dot, the audaciously named model who adores George but bristles at his offhand treatment of her. She and Riddle carry the bulk of the musical numbers, alone or in duet; a lively ensemble picks up the rest.

Inspired by George Seurat’s pointillistic painting “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,” the first act follows the obsessive artist’s challenge of capturing an idyllic pastoral scene on an oversized canvas as he splits his time between plein-air sketching on the island itself and applying, in his studio, the thousands of colored dots that make up the work.

Dot’s first number skillfully sets up her character and relationship with George; after complaining about the heat and aches from standing too long, she reassures herself, “There are worse things / Than staring at the water / As you're posing for a picture / Being painted by your lover / In the middle of the summer / On an island in the river / On a Sunday,” delivered at breakneck speed. Pires flowed easily between self-absorption and grudging affection in a number constantly changing in mood.

Among the visitors to the island is Jules, a famous artist with influence in the gallery community. “There’s a move on to include his work in the next group show,” Jules murmurs to his wife – and the words “move on” will acquire significant resonance in Act Two. “Go to some parties,” Jules tells George. “That is where you’ll meet prospective buyers.” That, too, is paralleled in the second act. Marc Webster gives the character a snobbishness with an edge of envy; his scenes with his wife, played by Claire McCahan, are every bit those of the cusp-of-an-argument couple. And both return in Act Two in completely unrecognizable form, but equally as good.

John Riddle as George Seurat.
Photo by Brent DeLanoy/
The Glimmerglass Festival.

A number of parallels inform the show. A collaboration between librettist James Lapine and songwriter Stephen Sondheim, it had a challenging gestation at Playwrights Horizon in 1983, where it was put together during public performances. George’s painting is completed by the end of Act One; Act Two takes us to the present (which genealogically remains 1984) as great-grandson George seeks to advance his own artistic career by seeking commissions. Jules is now a museum director.

Each act begins with complaints about posing (or gallery-hanging) in the heat. George’s application of colors on the canvas in Act One finds a parallel in the colors that emit from the younger George’s laser machine, called the Chromolume, in Act Two. And critics predictably misunderstand the art presented in both acts.

This structural symmetry honors George’s top-of-the-show declaration of the need for design, composition, balance, light, and harmony. “The challenge,” he says, “bring order to the whole.” It’s a rarefied concept for a Broadway musical. We witness no grand heroic deeds, no savage murders. The only death happens gently, offstage. What we’re asked to enjoy is an artist’s drive to create, a process (pace “The Agony and the Ecstasy” and its ilk) typically too boring to include in biographies.

Gaunt, bearded Riddle sits at his sketchpad at the top of the show. “White,” he says. “A blank page or canvas.” As originally produced, he was alone on the stage, which becomes, in effect, that blank page. In this production, director Ethan Heard has flanked the center playing area with cast members in chairs. It’s unnecessary, but it can be inferred that these entities are also, at this point, blank pages about to be colored by George. Which is fine until they rise and begin swaying to a lively musical moment. Then it becomes too distracting.

In his book Finishing the Hat (its title taken from this show’s key song), Sondheim offers a key dictum to follow when creating a show: Less is more. Although we have moved into an era in which projections can do much of the scenic work (and recent “Sunday” productions tend to make much use of them), it doesn’t mean you need to. In a subplot of the show, Dot angrily pursues a romance with Louis the Baker (an endearing Sahel Salam), about whom she sings (“Everybody Loves Louis”) with the lyrics telling a complicated story about her emotional state. Pires knows how to complement the moment with face and gesture. But she’s pitted against an array of projections of pastries, which isn’t what the song is about. Less is more.

Marina Pires as Dot. 
Photo by Brent DeLanoy/
The Glimmerglass Festival.

Thankfully, there are no distractions when first-act George sings his showstopper, “Finishing the Hat.” The song was added to the original “Sunday” after the show already had been running before an Off-Broadway audience for three weeks, and it gave the piece – and the character – an unforgettable emotional core. Riddle sang his heart out. The audience sported glistening cheeks. At least, mine were. 

Second-act George’s big artistic moment comes with the debut of his Chromolume laser show. “Colors begin to fill the stage and audience, creating a pointillist look,” reads the script. According to the score, the music for this scene “is constructed of motivic cells that are cued and repeated as indicated.” They are correspondingly pointillistic, but they pick up some of the melodic motifs used elsewhere in the show.

For this production, all that was discarded in favor of a light show that gave us concrete, monochromatic images of varying colors, with a startlingly sappy score of synthesized chords and chorus. Not only that, but the chorus identified each of the colors we were seeing. When you’re showing it, there’s no need to tell us about it. Again, less is more.

What follows is another showstopping number, Sondheim at his wittiest and most whimsical: “Putting It Together,” a song so insightful about the process of creating art that Barbra Streisand persuaded him to customize it for one of her albums. Here the combination of Riddle’s virtuosity, the ensemble’s excellent timing (and shrewd blocking), and a terrific use of projections to suggest that George is managing to carry on a half-dozen conversations at a time all came together brilliantly.

“Chromolume #7” is fairly successful, but George comes to see it as a dead-end. His subsequent breakthrough comes after studying his grandmother’s notebook, containing “Lesson #8.” a be-wigged Pires plays that grandmother, Marie, with impish charm the part demands, and her song “Children and Art” adds a poignant dimension to the legacy of an artist. 

Marina Pires as Marie and John Riddle as George (center) 
with the Ensemble. Photo by Brent DeLanoy/
The Glimmerglass Festival.

Young George returns to the Island of La Grande Jatte. It’s built up. It no longer hosts crowds of Sunday strollers. But here, guided by the spirit of Dot, George understands that it’s his mission – his imperative – to “Move On,” as the penultimate number insists. 

Both acts end with the anthemic ballad “Sunday,” bringing the ensemble into their places as reflected in the eventual canvas. “Sunday,” they sing slowly, with a throb in the music, “By the blue / Purple yellow red water / On the green / Purple yellow red grass / Let us pass / Through our perfect park, / Pausing on a Sunday ... ” and I defy you to remain unmoved. 

Each of the park visitors, who become immortalized in the painting, offer insights into George’s character as well as their own society and its rigid social roles. And each returns in Act Two to orbit young George. Those I haven’t yet praised include Luretta Bybee, Taylor-Alexis DuPont, Angela Yam, SarahAnn Duffy, Ella Swift, Justin Burgess, Viviana Goodwin, Reed Gnepper, with special praise for Erik Nordstrom as the Boatman.

Don’t let my caviling put you off. By and large, this is a splendid production. If you don’t know the show, grab it while you can; if you do, see it and enjoy the differing insights this version will offer.

The conductor is Michael Ellis Ingram, working with what can’t be a very easy score; fortunately, he has one of the finest orchestras that can be assembled here. Performances continue in repertory through August 17, and more info and tickets are at glimmerglass.org.

Sunday in the Park with George
Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by James Lapine
Conducted by Michael Ellis Ingram
Directed by Ethan Heard
Alice Busch Opera Theater, The Glimmerglass Festival
Cooperstown, New York, July 12