This production, which runs through March 19, is a resounding endorsement of that belief.
Sondheim was not one for sentimentality, and in many ways, Sunday essays that, acknowledging the complex costs of artistry while also surmising that finishing the hat is worth it in the end. The production is truly ravishing, a feast for the eyes and ears, and if it's a bit too precious in that regard, it's only because the people making it love it so deeply. But that's a minor quibble, when it is so rare to see the work staged with such lushness and care (largely because it takes quite the budget to do so). Sunday in the Park With George is an upending of form, a radical take on the idea of a musical itself - bringing it to life with such veneration eliminates some of what made it revolutionary in the first place. Jeff Lorch Krystina Alabado and Graham Phillips in 'Sunday in the Park With George' From Clint Ramos' costumes that bring to life the figures of Seurat's paintings to the engulfing impressionism of Ken Billington's lighting and Danny Erdberg's sound design, everything here is a labor of love that pulses with the grief and adoration that pervaded the theatrical community upon Sondheim's passing. The production is a eulogy for Sondheim, a probing of the ideas about art, loneliness, and love that he laced into the production while also a celebration of his unique gift to tackle such subjects in a genre often known for hummable tunes and rapturous dance breaks. This all operates on a meta-level, as Alabado and the entire cast seem to infuse their performances with the additional layer of love for Stephen Sondheim himself. Beyond her vocal acuity in the role, she makes it clear that the only thing more agonizing than being an artist is loving one. There's a tenderness and care in Alabado's Dot, all buoyed by a latent cheekiness that comes forward even more strongly in her second-act portrayal of the elderly Marie, daughter of Dot and George. He will make her immortal, but their love has a brief lifespan. Alabado gives Dot an inner fire that vividly brings to life the character's paradox - the thing she loves the most about George is the very thing that also makes him an impossible choice for a partner. She, in turn, is a muse who refuses to stay in the neat box he would paint her into. Dot pushes him to grapple with his loneliness, the agonies of artistic pursuit, and what he is willing to sacrifice. The propulsive force in the narrative is Dot (a radiant Krystina Alabado), who loves George and the beauty he creates with his work, but cannot abide the way he forsakes their relationship for his painting. Jeff Lorch Graham Phillips in 'Sunday in the Park with George' Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in Sunday, a meditation on the cost and loneliness of being an artist. Sondheim never really intended to write about himself, and yet, he always did. This all coalesced in 1984's Sunday in the Park With George, which he created with book writer and collaborator James Lapine (it went on to win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama). But throughout his career of deliciously inventive lyrics and unique melodies, he straddled the line between the work of making theater and the art of writing a musical. One could argue that Sondheim considered his days as a lyricist-for-hire as work, while the rest were his attempts at art. The composer redefined the possibilities of what musical theater could be, beginning as a lyricist on classics such as West Side Story and Gypsy and moving more fully into his own voice writing both music and lyrics, beginning with 1962's A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. This pronouncement, in the first act of Sunday in the Park With George, could be seen as something of a mission statement from the late, great Stephen Sondheim. "Work is what you do for others, liebchen. Art is what you do for yourself."
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