ME: Come sit down, honey.
MY KID: Is something wrong, Dad?
ME: No, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Nothing at all. We just need to have a chat.
MY KID: Is it about the broken vase? Because I cleaned it all up!
ME: You did clean it up. You did a great job cleaning that vase up. It’s something else. You’re getting older, and there are some things you don’t know about. And I want you to hear it from me, your father, instead of some kids at school.
MY KID (fidgety): O.K.?
ME: We need to talk about Stephen Sondheim.
MY KID: St-st-st-stephen who?
ME: Stephen Sondheim. He was a composer and a lyricist. He wrote the best musicals of the twentieth century.
MY KID (anxiety building): Uh, Dad, I don’t know if I should hear this.
ME: You have to! The shows are great!
MY KID: O-O-K., Dad.
ME: You’ve probably heard of some of the more popular ones, like “Sweeney Todd” and “Into the Woods”? Maybe from some of the older kids at school?
MY KID: I did hear an eighth-grade boy say something about “Sweeney Todd.”
ME: What did he say, honey?
MY KID: I can’t remember. Just something about the score using dissonant chords?
ME: That’s right, kiddo. That’s very good. What else did he say? It’s O.K. Don’t be scared.
MY KID: He said something about the lyrics being adjusted for Len Cariou, who was the original Sweeney.
ME: That’s true, too. What else?
MY KID: I don’t know, Dad, it was confusing. Something about the story being told exclusively through song?
ME: No! That’s not true! This is what I was worried about. This is why I’m glad we’re having this talk. That older boy is wrong—he’s just trying to scare you. “Sweeney Todd” is not exclusively music. There is actually a libretto by Hugh Wheeler.
MY KID: H-h-hugh who?
ME: Hugh Wheeler. A frequent Sondheim collaborator. They met through Hal Prince.
MY KID (momentarily charmed): They met through a prince?!
ME: Not a real prince, sweetheart! Just a man named Prince. Now, this older boy—did he mention anything else? Anything that made you feel weird? Did he bring up any of Sondheim’s lesser works?
MY KID: Sondheim had lesser works? I’m scared, Dad!
ME: Don’t be scared, honey! They weren’t lesser in the qualitative sense. Just lesser known. Did he say anything about “Pacific Overtures”? Or “Anyone Can Whistle”? Or “Frogs”? Did this older boy mention “Frogs”?
MY KID (really nervous now): When’s Mom coming home?
ME: Mom is out all night.
MY KID: But, Dad, I’m tired!
ME: Then drink a cup of coffee! You must know about Sondheim!
MY KID: O.K., O.K.
ME: Good. I’m sorry I got so upset. It’s just, he’s written so many important songs! (Composing myself; a beat) I love you. You know that, right?
MY KID: Yeah, I know.
ME: Good. You might be tempted to go online and watch videos.
MY KID: W-what kinds of videos?
ME: Videos of “Cats,” “Les Mis,” “Rent.”
MY KID: What’s wrong with those?
ME: They’re not—real, honey. They make musicals look fun, but they’re not real life. Not like Sondheim’s “Company” or “Assassins” or his newly reconsidered “Merrily We Roll Along.” Those shows are real. They’ll stand the test of time. They’ll be revived at City Center and still feel relevant to a modern audience.
MY KID: That’s a lot to remember!
ME: Don’t worry. You’re not navigating this alone. Now I need to know—have any of the older kids invited you to see “MJ the Musical” or “Mamma Mia!” or even “Moulin Rouge”?
MY KID: No, I don’t think so.
ME: Good. Those are jukebox musicals. And they killed Sondheim!
MY KID: S-s-sondheim was killed?
ME: Yes, he was.
MY KID (starting to cry now): But, Dad! Why?! Why did they kill him?!
ME: Because they were taking shortcuts and pandering. Like parasites, those jukebox musicals wormed their way into Broadway and slowly killed the medium.
MY KID: Daddy, I’m scared! Are the jukeboxes going to kill you and Mama? Or me?
ME: No, sweetheart. As long as they keep reviving Sondheim’s work and occasionally gender-swapping Bobby, we’ll be fine.
MY KID: Are you sure?
ME: I’m sure, honey. Everything’s going to be O.K. (My kid sniffles and calms down. A nice pause.)
MY KID: Dad?
ME: Yes, hon?
MY KID: I thought you were going to finally tell me about sex.
ME: No, kiddo. As a Sondheim fan, you’ll never have to know about that. ♦
