Into the Woods
I wish… Nope, not going to do it. If Into the Woods teaches you but one thing it is most certainly: be careful what you wish for. I don’t think either of us quite appreciated this message when we first discovered the theatrical recording in our youth. This film club review marks a bit of a departure from our usual two viewpoints, as we both agreed on so many points, it only seemed logical to co-author this piece. We hope you will enjoy our thoughts on all things Sondheim and “Into the Woods,” as it’s our sincerest wish (oops, there’s that word again) that you’ll join in on the conversation. Enjoy.
It’s almost impossible to pick a favorite Sondheim production, but Into the Woods is always high on our list. While it may be considered one of the most accessible of Sondheim’s work, as evidenced by the popularity of the show (at least, the first act) as a high school drama production, Into the Woods is stunningly complex. Sarah even remembers going through a phase when Into the Woods was her go-to musical. However, she never really liked the second act and hates to admit that she would often turn off the show during the intermission, satisfied with exuberance of the “Ever After” number, and uninterested in the doom and gloom that pervades Act II…
As one of his more plot-heavy musicals, the interwoven nature of several plot lines, the reversal of characters’ motivations, and the way that the music and lyrics illustrate these ideas are masterfully, astonishingly constructed. In many ways, Into the Woods is a perfect companion piece with one of Sondheim’s earlier (more ‘concept musical’) masterpieces, Company (1970), another musical that closely examined the exhausting caprice of human desire. Bailey can’t help but hear both pieces talking back and forth to each other, while also echoing internally to themselves. To summarize, Into the Woods is an immensely complicated, unmistakably beautiful commotion.
The stage version of the musical that we watched for this review was recorded in 1989 over a week of performances by the reunited original Broadway cast. It aired on American Playhouse on PBS in 1991. The cast includes some Sondheim favorites: Bernadette Peters (The Witch), Robert Westenberg (The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince), and Barbara Bryne (Jack’s Mother) who had previously starred in Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George in 1984 (also broadcast on American Playhouse in 1986), and Edmund Lyndeck, who has the role as Cinderella’s Father, is best known as the original Judge Turpin in Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1979). In re-watching Into the Woods, which Sarah hadn’t really done since circa 2014 with the release of the Disney live-action adaptation of Into the Woods for the silver screen (Bailey watches both versions every March because she’s just that obsessive), we were struck by how cheeky and humorous the musical truly is, from beginning to end.
What we love so much about the stage version of Into the Woods is that it’s so...stage-y. What we mean is, it lends itself so much to musical theatre as an art. Sondheim’s plays often utilize Brechtian techniques of alienation. Often, they are employed for dramatic/light comic effect, but never so much (and for such a high degree of comedy) as in Into the Woods. Think of the narrator’s asides to the audience, and his untimely demise. In staging, consider all of the humor that comes from the fact that none of the animals are real animals (the cow’s ‘death,’ the prince’s ‘horse ride’). Even the second act, with its drastic change in mood, is not nearly as depressing as Sarah remembered it, in fact, she found herself chuckling at the antics of the characters. So much of what is treasured about Into the Woods comes from these tongue-and-cheek elements. Escentially, the musical is utter perfection. From beginning, to the end, we can find no fault with it.
In terms of music, Into the Woods’ score is, unsurprisingly, incredibly strong. From Sondheim’s classic pattering lyrics in “The Witch’s Rap” to the complex overlapping parts of the chorus, to those five ‘bean notes’ that he plays with throughout the score like Play-Doh, Sondheim, as he is wont to do, pulls out all the stops. Knowing how much Sondheim loves to write for characters, it must have been so creatively stimulating to have just a large cast of main characters, all with their own story line. Furthermore, despite the fact that the witch is often first billed, Sondheim doesn’t really put more artistic weight on one character over others. Yes, The Witch has “Stay with Me,” but The Baker has “No More,” Jack has “Giants in the Sky,” Red Riding Hood gets “I Know Things Now,” and let’s not get started on all of Cinderella’s music, or that of the wolf, or the princes… If the protagonist is one who changes over the course of a story, practically every character in the show is the protagonist.
Regardless, it’s no shock that, when all is said and done, in spite of the wonderful, impressive work that each member of this sizable cast does, the original Broadway production is Bernadette’s show. Of all of Peters’ work, from Sondheim and beyond, she is at her best here. Her comedic timing and the way that she owns her makeup and costuming as The Witch in Act 1 is impeccable and fearless. Her delivery of every line is so on point. She places emphasis on every action that she does, each jab, sneer, and flourish only adds to her persona and the pathos she delivers through her character. The desperation in her rendition of “Stay with Me” never fails to make Bailey sob.Then, after her transformation into her beautiful form, her power and fierceness in “Last Midnight” absolutely takes our breath away. She seems to do it all in this performance, and she does it all like it’s nothing. But it’s everything. We are both still annoyed that Disney didn’t cast her in the adaptation, because she’s still gorgeous and we’re certain she could still pull off every beat of The Witch. Speaking of Disney...
We can’t pretend that we both didn’t go into Disney’s Into the Woods expecting an absolute shit show. Apart from that fact that Bailey had securely convinced herself that Sondheim was simply unadaptable to film, particularly when first hearing that it would be a Disney production (“I couldn’t help but guffaw” -Bailey). This is a musical that deals with complicated relationships, examinations and re-examinations of personal desire, pivotal shifts in experience, and the way we navigate all of these internal complexities with the outside world, full of millions of other sacks of confusion that we call ‘people.’ Disney, the company that since the beginning of the decade had barely been able to look past its own navel, was going to tackle that, eh? We foresaw the film as most likely being the intellectual and philosophical equivalent of one of those aforementioned high school productions, the ones that cut out Act II when it starts to get too complicated.
When the teaser trailer for the film came out, and the last ‘surprise’ was that Johnny Depp (whose face is never revealed in the trailer) plays the wolf, we had mixed reactions. Bailey thought that was going to be the true nail in the coffin. Sarah (an avid Johnny Depp fan) was a bit more optimistic. Nevertheless, a Disney/Depp/Sondheim collaboration sounded, to put it mildly, freaking unbearable. We couldn’t imagine the makeup. Given that low bar that we set for the film to hurdle, Rob Marshall’s film, upon its release exceeded our expectations.
In re-watching the 2014 film. Our feelings are mixed. On the surface, the Disney adaptation appears to be pretty darn successful. But delving deeper into the nuances we’ve discovered that this is the rare exception where the musical, which should be easily brought to life through the magic that is modern cinema, fails to capture the spirit and pizazz of the stage production. Sarah (who picked the film as her fav of the year in our review of the decade) was taken aback by how dark the 2014 film is compared to the theatrical production. The actors breathed no life into their roles, they are merely going through the motions, and the singing is passable at best. The darkness of the costuming, background, and deadpan quality of the acting left a lot to be desired. What should be an excellent ensemble cast was overrun with big names who vied for attention in every scene, as there was very little give and take between the actors, and certainly none of the levity of the stage production. We still contend that Sondheim is best experienced on stage.
There were some interesting visual elements in the Marshall film. For the sake of time, we can understand why the film cut down so much of the production, but in doing so it changed some of the pacing of the show. Bailey loved the opening shot of the sky and the revelation, as the first notes of “The Prologue” kick in, that it is, in fact, a puddle. Although, we both mourned the elimination of The Narrator, as a character, with his perfectly timed asides, from the script. Bailey did appreciate the Baker-as-Narrator choice, making the story come full circle, and closing on that same shot of the sky that opened the film (Sarah was not impressed with this change at all). We both liked the tactic in the “On the Steps of the Palace” sequence, with the action slowing down and the song taking place in a split second (though Bailey detested the pointless lyric changes that Sondheim loves to make in his work whenever he can). Bailey liked the shot of Jack’s Mother confronting the beanstalk and screaming in terror, she liked the fact that the giant’s gold pieces were huge, and loved, absolutely loved, the “Agony” sequence, as Chris Pine and Billy Magussen tear their shirts as they sing their pain standing in waterfalls (Sarah was completely underwhelmed by their antics…). And in terms of best performances, Emily Blunt’s take on The Baker’s Wife was admittedly spectacular, and the physical and facial humor that she brought to the film were the moments that genuinely brought us joy.
On the negative side, we do feel that a lot of the comedy falters in the film. Jokes that were delivered so hilariously in the original version seemed to fall flat. Refer back to our observation about the inherent theatricality of the comedy to explain that, but it was nonetheless disappointing to hear no one even chuckle at lines like “It’s the witch from next door,” or, “I just wanted to make sure you really loved your cape,” when viewing the film in the theater. But, if you didn’t recognize the lines as funny from the original production, you wouldn’t have been laughing now either.
In terms of music, the elimination of “No More,” The Baker’s big emotional climax number, made no sense to us, and changing the tempo of several of the remaining songs completely altered their impact. Marshall set up the scene as though The Baker’s song was about to happen, and then it just...doesn’t. The son talks to his hypothetical father as a bit of the music plays underneath. (The audience really lost out on that one. What a number.) Apart from omissions of music and characters, the major problem lies with the tempo of the music at various points, particularly “Your Fault” (one of Bailey’s favorite songs from the musical). This is the number where everyone is going back and forth blaming each other for the giant’s destruction, and the tempo is supposed to be allegro as they chaotically play the blame game. In the film, they seem to be performing at half speed, and it’s completely underwhelming. This happens throughout the film, from beginning to the end. Even Johnny Depp’s performance as the Wolf, singing “Hello, Little Girl,” is much slower and edgier than the stage production (and in comparing the two, even Sarah still prefers the jaunty-ness and timing of the stage number).
Another problem we had with the film was that Marshall didn’t quite seem to know what to do when staging certain numbers, particularly “Giants in the Sky” and “I Know Things Now,” songs that, like every other song in the film, are meant to examine the characters’ present states based on the experiences they have just had. And yet, these two sequences rely more on flashbacks than anything else. There is, at least, a little redemption in Lilla Crawford’s performance, as Red Riding Hood, as she sings to the Baker (she was actually quite good in this role), but “Giants in the Sky” is completely wasted, while watching a one-note little boy (Daniel Huttlestone) climb a tree.This point annoys us (to no end), as the casting of children in the roles of Red Riding Hood and Jack, completely changes the characters. Granted these characters are portrayed/treated as “children” in the stage production, but the actors are much older, which lends to the comedic-ness of their roles. Jack, in the film, comes across as being super bratty, which eliminates much of the sympathy we have for the character when watching the stage production. We believe that these numbers are two of the weaker ones, because the songs just aren’t meant to actually be sung by children, (though, yes, the fairy tale characters are children) and when songs with more mature considerations are performed by children, all you can do is rely on the surface (what happened in the plot, as opposed to what happened to the character’s internal world). Watch the Disney version if you must, but we’ll stick with the original stage production. Thank you very much.
Now that we’ve talked about the good and the bad, we’ll meet somewhere in the middle and talk about Meryl Streep’s performance as The Witch. (First, Bailey must say that she resides in that oh-so-small-camp of people that find Meryl Streep to be overrated as an actress.) We both agree that Bernadette Peters is stupendous as The Witch, and really can’t be matched. So, for the first half of the film Bailey was pretty much just annoyed by her performance, and Sarah was just underwhelmed and missing Peters... Streep’s character has all of the original Witch’s impatience without any of the humor or charm. However, when it came to Streep’s rendition of “Stay with Me,” what can we say? It was just as impactful (Bailey even cried just as hard as when Peters sang it, granted, it could just be Sondheim’s music and lyrics that move her so), as when Streep hits the line “Who out there could love you more than I?” we couldn’t help but be moved. Also, for some reason, we became a bit less irritated with her once she made her transformation into her beautiful form (perhaps this is because the Witch’s persona changes, and the character softens just a little once she loses her powers), but neither of us was particularly impressed by her performance. Streep did become a bit more palatable once she stopped being in her first Act costume. But, yeah, no contest. Peters is, and will always be, our Witch.
So, there you have it. In our book, the stage version wins, but we admire the degree of faithfulness that the Disney version did manage. Sondheim blurs the lines between good and evil with Into the Woods, making those presumably ‘good’ characters like the Princes, turn into ugly and shallow scumbags, versus the more ‘sinister’ characters, like the Witch, having the most humanity and sincerity by the production's conclusion. For us, the topsy-turvy world of Into the Woods never disappoints. It will be one musical that we know we’ll keep watching for years to come.
- Bailey & Sarah
Oh yeah, and if you wanted Bailey’s opinion on the utilization of Johnny Depp in this picture, she would say it was surprisingly restrained, and the makeup could have been worse (plus, Sarah can’t help but agree…). What did you think of the stage production of Into the Woods? What did you think of the film version? Which is your favorite? Share your thoughts in the comments below! Also, be sure to check back with us next week when we will announce our April Film Club Pick!
Copyright © 2020 Bailey Lizotte & Sarah Crane
