By Aliza Billet, Senior Arts and Culture Editor
A sentence I often find myself saying is, “You know, there’s a musical about that,” because I think in reference to stories I know, and I know a lot of musicals. I counted, and there are songs from more than 65 musicals downloaded onto my phone.
This is not a new interest; for as long as I can remember, musicals have been a part of my life. I remember hiding in the pantry with my mom’s iPod clutched in my elementary-school-aged hand, lapping up the lyrics to Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods. The tenth anniversary concert of Les Misérables played on repeat in my house when I was younger. Embarrassingly, the first musical I discovered on my own was actually the film Muppets Most Wanted; my 2014 was partly characterized by countless two-person renditions of the soundtrack performed by me and my best friend.
While many people join me in the musical-loving camp, a significant second group openly dislikes musicals. If you ask a musical hater why they are the way they are, they’ll tell you it’s because musicals are unrealistic; people don’t just burst into spontaneous song! This is true, and there’s even a musical about it — The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals tells the story of a man who hates musicals, and then his town turns into one when people get infected by an alien virus that makes them start singing. But I love musicals for the exact reason people hate them: the unrealistic spontaneous singing that elevates the story to the next emotional level.
Music carries power. Melodies can stay stuck in your head for days after you hear them once. Songs often evoke emotions you might not otherwise feel in a given moment. Music even moves your body in a way nothing else can.
Stories, too, are powerful. They transport you to worlds not your own and grant you access to lives you were not born to live. They open your eyes to an existence greater than yourself, and carry you through a rainbow of emotions you didn’t know you could feel.
Musical theatre is a fusion of these two elements. You don’t just get a story. You get a story told through song, which wraps you up in it until you feel it with everything you have — eyes, ears, heart, body, mind and soul.
A general rule in musical theatre is that a character speaks until the emotions reach a point where she needs to sing, and then she sings until the emotions reach a point where she needs to dance. This rule grants musical stories the right kind of progression to land the most effective emotional punch.
The word “emotional” is a deterrent for the musical theatre haters. They’re scared of sappiness, avoidant of melodrama. They find it unrealistic and overdramatic for characters to sing their way through life. But when done well, tapping into emotion isn’t sappy or melodramatic, it’s the key to human connection.
There are definitely sad moments in musicals. “Alabanza” (In the Heights) is a beautiful elegiac memorial for a community’s recently-deceased matriarch, and “She Used to Be Mine” (Waitress) is a musical soliloquy by a pregnant woman mourning the loss of the future she thought she could achieve for herself and her unborn child. These songs, among others, zero in on the unique tragedies that sometimes befall people, and they are evocative and moving.
But there are also songs that convey emotions like excitement, hope and love. “Moving Too Fast” (The Last Five Years) is a man’s reaction to the knowledge that his life is changing for the better because he’s just gotten a taste of creative success, and “This Is Not Over Yet” (Parade) is an excited glimmer of hope from a couple who realize their love is strong enough to make it through the worst adversity.
These kinds of songs have taught me that emotions are more complicated than just happy and sad. I often find myself crying to hopeful songs, happy ones and songs of yearning alike. I am grateful to musical theatre for unlocking this kind of emotional response in me, because it is simply a blessing to be able to feel on a deeper level, and to connect with stories both close to and far from home.
I have written in the past about how Jewish musicals strike a particular emotional nerve with me. I love shows like Harmony, Parade and Fiddler on the Roof because of the personal connection I feel toward their Jewish subjects. However, my favorite musicals could not be farther removed from my reality. Bandstand is about a group of World War II veterans who use music to cope with their PTSD. Newsies follows New York City newsboys in 1899 who strike for better wages and working conditions. Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 covers the content of 70 pages of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace: a young Russian woman gets seduced by a man who is not her fiancé, while her friend looks for meaning in his life. Les Misérables is about an escaped convict attempting to turn his life around in the throes of revolutionary France. All of these musicals are very different from each other, and none are about anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, but I love them because their characters are compelling to the point that I’m invested in their well-being.
Also, the music from these shows is just so good. I often walk down the Stern hallways and the streets of Midtown Manhattan with headphones on, and I have been known to bounce around or sway a little bit to the music playing in only my ears. I know this looks silly to passersby — on multiple occasions I’ve gotten judgy looks accompanied by a snarky “You look like you’re having fun” — but I am not embarrassed. I love music! It brings me joy when I let myself feel it in my body, and, to quote Jack Kelly from the aforementioned Newsies, “Who don’t want that?”
That’s the best part about musical theatre: the accessibility. Of the 65-plus shows whose songs I have saved on my phone, I’ve seen less than half of them live on a Broadway or touring stage. I’ve seen 20 of them in video form, or in community theater productions, and there are even a bunch I’ve never actually seen. Yet I still listen to the music, because even individual songs from larger stories are compelling or entertaining.
For example, the only song I know from the musical Dogfight is called “First Date/Last Night,” in which two characters during the Vietnam War reflect on why they chose to go on a date with each other. It’s a sweet little snippet into the minds of complex characters, and the chorus is gorgeous to listen to; it itches a spot in your brain you didn’t know needed itching until you hear the song. I never was able to get into the rest of the musical, but that one song is still on my phone because it stands strongly on its own. Similarly, the only song I know from the musical Big Fish is called “Fight the Dragons,” and I don’t even know what it’s about other than a father singing to his son about adventures that may or may not have happened. But it’s wholesome, with beautiful imagery and a nice message, and I like it.
Musical theatre is a rich well of stories and songs that contain the entirety of human existence. There are shows about every experience you can think of, large scale or small. Come From Away tells the true story of a town in Newfoundland that opened its doors to thousands of stranded strangers in the days after 9/11. Next to Normal is about a mother struggling with a bipolar diagnosis. Sweeney Todd follows a barber getting revenge on those who have wronged him, except his chosen method involves murder, so his neighbor can bake them into pies. And musicals are not all emotional or heavy; Shucked is literally just a silly comedy musical about corn.
The point is, these stories exist. I’ve left you some snippets. Check them out if they seem interesting, and find the show that’s right for you. There are worlds at your fingertips, waiting to worm their way into your ears. It’s up to you to let them.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of Aliza Billet