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Or something with a name so long and hard to pronounce that it is a song all by itself. Any criticism, no matter how fully justified or insightful, simply ceases to apply in those moments, when all the elements that make up Sondheim’s work-music, poetry, voices-conspire together with him to form the thinnest possible barrier between him and you, through which he invites you to feel something with no name. But in a good production, we get moments like this one: perfectly timed surprise followed by desperate, ironic songs of uncertainty and imperfection, each as inarguably correct as an equation. You can pick on Company, just as you can pick on Sunday in the Park With George or Pacific Overtures or Assassins. He finally walks over to the piano, as we always knew he would, and begins to accompany himself as he sings the last song in Company, “Being Alive,” its music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, who died on Friday at 91. He’s the only one who hasn’t played a single note the whole show. Instead of singing a rejoinder, he screams “STOP!” at the top of his lungs, shocking them into silence.
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Raúl Esparza rests morosely next to a New York apartment radiator as his friends sing-chant his character’s name (“Bobby! Bobby!”) over and over, each playing an abusive tune on their own instrument, until Bobby can’t take it any more. THE WHOLE SET SHINES with the same gloss as the Steinway baby grand that sits, unplayed, at its center. Composer Stephen Sondheim answers questions during a press conference July 19, 2001.