By Ethan Li
In my freshman year of English, I opened my computer to Zoom, expecting to be presented with a new text to analyze in our daily “All Write Nows.” However, Andy Evans instead showed us a painting: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. The intention of the exercise was to expand our creativity by introducing us to more forms of art; most students wrote about the use of light, the composition of the painting, or the characters featured. However, what no one went in depth about was the artist—Georges Seurat.
While composer and lyricist, Steven Sondheim, and writer, James Lapine, saw the same painting us freshman did, they noticed what we did not. As a result of their interpretation, Sunday in the Park with George was born: a musical fictionalizing the life of Seurat (pronounced sir-AH) that won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1985. One of only ten musicals to ever win (another winner is Lin-Manuel Miranda’s cultural phenomena Hamilton), Sunday provides an interesting intersection between music and literature. The show has had multiple major productions, notably the original company featuring Mandy Patinkin and Bernadette Peters, both now established stage actors, and a 2017 revival starring Annaleigh Ashford and famous scarf-lover Jake Gyllenhaal. Although I had familiarized myself with the show having watched an original recording, I made sure to read the original libretto to experience the intentional work with stage directions and scenery descriptions.
Sunday follows separate stories in its first and second acts. The play opens with Seurat, known as George in the musical, painting his fictional mistress, Dot, her name referencing the pointillist style Seurat was famous for. Other characters in act one include Jules and Yvonne, George’s critical artist friends; the two Celestes, ditzy and fashionable Parisian women; and the Old Lady, George’s mother, who disapproves of growing industrialization. During the act, Dot feels ignored by George and irked by his constant prioritization of his art; George, however, accepts that creative fulfillment will always come before personal matters to him. In the Act I finale, George arranges all the characters in a beautiful tableau, forever memorializing that eternal sunday. When the curtain opens for Act II, the time, setting, and characters have changed: we are a century later, in 1984, no longer in France, and we follow George and Dot’s great-grandson, also named George, and his grandmother Marie (the two leads are played by the same actors in each act). Without giving much away, 1984 George feels artistically frustrated—at a crossroads in his life and unable to move forward. Both acts mainly comment on the difficulties of being an artist, both in terms of career and relationships.
To say Sunday is a marvelous example of inventive musical theatre would be an understatement, and much of this is due to Sondheim’s genius score. Although an often hated part of musicals (“why do they just start singing?”), the score of Sunday ties the show together, allowing us to deeply understand the characters’ emotional arcs. Sondheim often uses music to accentuate movement, such as the sharp theme that hits every time George dots his painting. He also uses recurring themes to track the development of the characters, especially when providing parallels between act one and two. The Pulitzer Board actually agrees about the impact of music; beginning in 1950, they began crediting composers as recipients due to music being a pivotal part of the theatre experience, not just lyrics.
Speaking of the lyrics, Sondheim’s are always expertly rhymed and cleverly spell out the characters’ inner desires. A prime example is in the song, “Everybody Loves Louis,” Dot’s solo, where she considers the benefits of her new romantic interest, the baker, Louis, against George. The genius comes through when contrasting baking, a profession that provides a tangible and necessary product, with painting, a creative job without material or biological gain. “Louis’ thoughts are not hard to follow,” Dot sings, “Louis’ art is not hard to swallow,” and we understand that she craves the stability and emotional honesty a baker provides more than an artist because of the lyrics and song. Another crucial aspect of the musical, the script by James Lapine, also packs a hefty punch: a highlight occurs at the top of Act II, when the characters in the painting step out and deliver eulogies for the deceased artist.
Obviously, I think that the musical whole-heartedly deserved the prize it received. One thing to note is that the board voting may have been biased by the subject matter. As a group of three critics (one being a playwright), they likely felt a personal connection to the themes of making art in Sunday and therefore felt inclined to grant the musical the prize. I would highly recommend everyone—especially artists or those interested in theatre—to watch the entire production (a recording is available on YouTube). However, I do recognize that musicals can be hard to get into, and for those who only like musicals for upbeat bops, then Sunday might not be the best fit. Still, just like the original classic painting, Sunday in the Park with George is an amazing viewing experience and has plenty to analyze, ponder, and love.