April 4, 2026: Theatre Yesterday and Today, by Ron Fassler.

Is it fair to state that Follies is the most discussed Broadway musical of all time? Ever since it premiered in 1971, there has been a pronounced inability to agree over whether it succeeded at what it so boldly attempted or fell just short of its mark. There is also the widely held belief that, for a multitude of reasons, its original production will never be topped due to budget, casting and an audience’s hold on what that kind of nostalgia for the 30s and 40s meant in the 1970s. For inexplicable reasons, it was toyed with extensively by its creators in a 1987 London version that, once mounted and reviewed, was denied further licensing and will most likely never be seen again. Both its first Broadway revival in 2001, as well as its second in 2011, were virtually the 1971 version with different stagings. And critics and audiences were still at odds over what worked and didn’t — but always (and I mean ALWAYS) express gratefulness when there’s a Follies on the boards. As a musical score, it is only surpassed by sweep, scope, and ambition by Sweeney Todd (my opinion, of course), even though the Sondheim score I listen to more than any other is A Little Night Music, though maybe that’s because I’m a sucker for a waltz.

If arguably his greatest, Follies is certainly Sondheim’s most varied score in terms of how he went about composing it; half of which are pastiche songs with hat tips to the great composers between the wars, specifically Arlen, Berlin, Gershwin, Kern, and Porter. No one contests the quality of the music and lyrics but James Goldman’s virtually plotless book has, fairly or unfairly, taken a number of hits over the years. The general consensus is that it is not up to the other elements that made Follies so monumental. After all, its score, direction, choreography, scenic design, lighting and costumes all won Tonys, with the glaring exception being Goldman’s book. And that lack of respect has been something with which Sondheim has vociferously disagreed. Only a month after Follies opened, he gave a lecture on the art of theatre lyrics at the 92nd Street Y in front of an audience of 800 people. Proclaiming at the start to have never delivered a talk before, he says that he was under the misapprehension when he accepted that it was to be a Q & A. Lucky for all, the two-hour talk was recorded and is available here).

Towards the end of his talk, Sondheim took the time to address the criticism of Goldman’s book. “It always annoys me deeply (and I’d like to use language stronger than that), when I read those reviews that we’ve gotten a lot of just now for ‘Follies’ that say “the show was good in spite of the book.” No, the show is good because of the book. For example, people think that the book is the dialogue. It isn’t at all. It’s the scheme of the show. It’s the way the songs and the book work together.”

In addition to the craftsmanship of Sondheim and Goldman, the musical's co-direction by Harold Prince and Michael Bennett contains staging nothing short of miraculous (not to mention Bennett’s superb choreography). As the groundbreaking Company had come only a year before, Follies was the most highly anticipated show of the 1971-72 season. When it went into previews on Broadway in late March, I was fourteen-years-old (which means yes, I saw Company at thirteen). And unlike most fourteen year-olds, I had already seen more than a hundred Broadway shows. That’s because it was my hobby, my pleasure, and my privilege to have been attending shows regularly since the age of twelve from my Long Island home of Great Neck, coming into Manhattan and sitting up in the cheap seats weekly, usually at the average price of around $3.

Funnily enough, for Follies, I bought a $6 seat—at the time, the most I ever paid for a show. Why? Well, with fifty years in the rear view mirror it’s not easy to recall the specifics, though it’s possible I leaped at the chance to sit in a better seat for only $1 more. And it must be pointed out that $5 was steep for the cheapest ticket at a Saturday matinee back then. The season’s biggest hit No, No, Nanette had opened in January and was charging $5 for the last row as well, but I got around that by attending a Wednesday matinee and paying only $3 (I was on a strict budget). And though Follies was offering a preview matinee for $4 on Wednesday afternoons, it would have entailed taking a day off from school, and late March and early April didn’t provide a holiday for that as Nanette did in February (all this stuff was carefully plotted by me back in the day, let me tell you). The theatre where Follies was playing is probably the reason I went for the better seat. My three previous visits to the Winter Garden were all in the cheapest seats and all had one-word titles: Mame, Jimmy and Georgy. If you have ever had the misfortune to be seated upstairs on the side it’s not an ideal experience (the Winter Garden is WIDE!). Much of the time it affords you the chance to watch a lot of stage hands backstage at work (or at leisure).

So, I went with a $6 seat that put me close to dead center in the third to last row, a perfect place to watch the musical drama unfold. For the most part, the show was about movement in the shadows; black the major color offsetting the vivid reds and startling blues of some of the costumes worn by the attendees of the final night on the stage of the Weissman Theatre. Ghosts of showgirls towered over the smaller leading principals, drifting in and out of the action, even dwarfing the six foot John McMartin with their enormous head pieces. Of course, there is the moment very late in the show, when the stage plunges into darkness and transforms itself to one of opulence and glorious color: a cacophony of noise and music, the Follies part of Follies where we enter the heads of its four leads, acting out their inner troubles and desires in musical solos and dance. Genius. That initial sequence, “Loveland,” is even available now, a half a century later, to view on YouTube with the aid of kind preservationists who have culled scraps and recordings to allow a glimpse of what it all looked and sounded like:

And what did a fourteen-year-old make of this very adult musical? It pains me to write this, but I was more impressed by the spectacle. Upon first viewing, I didn’t have much patience for the intricacies of the four main characters’ issues. After all, what did I know about middle-age angst? I wish I had been a bit more sophisticated, but I was a teenager from Long Island and (I thought) my parents were happily married.

Here’s a regrettable, but pretty hilarious quote from the review I wrote after I got home that afternoon, preserved for history:

“Some” good numbers. Good grief! At least I barely redeem myself with my final line, “Follies is a very good show,” proving that at least I liked it. But let’s face it: the sharpness of the manner in which the show hit its targets went over my head.

But memories? I’ll never forget the spectacle of “Beautiful Girls;” the deft staging of “Waiting for the Girls;” the brilliance of Ethel Shutta’s unimaginably authentic “Broadway Baby;” Gene Nelson thrillingly dance “The Right Girl” or strut about the stage in the car he wore around his waist in “Buddy’s Blues.” Or for that matter, the indomitable Mary McCarty singing “Who’s That Woman?,” which for many is the apotheosis of what made Follies so inventive and unique. And don’t get me started on not knowing what was happening when John McMartin (apparently) went up on his lyrics during “Live, Laugh, Love.” My jaw hit the floor.

For the most comprehensive look at how Follies came to be, Ted Chapin’s indispensable memoir Everything Was Possible is a must-read. A youthful and unpaid assistant at the time, he kept a diary (bless him) that’s everything and more than you could possible want (and it’s well written, too).

One of the standout Follies songs, the achingly beautiful “One More Kiss,” contains the line “All things beautiful must die,” leaving one with the realization that all first-hand memories of its original production will vanish once the last person who saw it shuffles off this mortal coil. Its curse is that every subsequent revival will forever be haunted by its shadow (one is coming up next year as a co-venture between Arlington Signature Shakespeare Theatre and Washington D.C.’s Shakespeare Theatre Company that I don’t intend to miss). Its original may have lost $800,000, but Follies will always remain a priceless memory for all fortunate enough to have seen it fifty-five years ago.

Ron Fassler is the author of The Show Goes On: Broadway Hirings, Firings and Replacements. For news and “Theatre Yesterday and Today”columns when they break, please subscribe.