For its annual American musical presentation, Glimmerglass Festival lovingly staged a scintillating production of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s Sunday in the Park with George.
It is hard to believe that the iconic original Broadway production was over forty years ago, so vividly it remains in my memory. It is a pleasure to report that this new staging not only challenges the glories of that first showing but also actually incorporates a few loving nods to it..
As aficionados already know, the piece was inspired by the French pointillist painter Georges Seurat’s masterpiece, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. The story imagines a fictionalized version of the artist, George, who, in 1884-1886, is consumed by creating this (now) world-famous painting, and his great-grandson (also named George), who in 1980 is a self-doubting and discordant contemporary sculptor.
The first act famously ends with the living tableau recreating the famed work of art, while the second act segues into a narration of Seurat’s untimely death at thirty-one. We then fast forward to modernity and the imaginary relationship of Seurat’s great-grandson and very elderly daughter. It is a fascinating piece that muses on the meaning of art, children, values, and metamorphosis.
The cast on this occasion could hardly be bettered, offering a heady blend of seasoned pros with apprentices from the company’s accomplished Resident Artists Program.
John Riddle was perfection as George, displaying great range from thoughtful introspection to brooding commitment to explosive certainty of his gifts. His smooth Baritenor can croon soothingly, patter pointedly, or soar dramatically with accomplished ease. Mr. Riddle also handily encompasses all the idiosyncratic demands of the role, including schizophrenically “conversing” with two dogs he is sketching. He has also mastered the subtle delineation between the self- centered historical painter, and the uneasy fame of the contemporary sculptor. This was a true star turn of considerable accomplishment.
Marin Pires complemented him line by line and note by note in the dual roles of the youthful model, Dot, and the slightly dotty and grandmotherly Marie. She had the audience in the palm of her hand right out of the gate, with a crackling rendition of Dot’s fiendishly tricky opening number, spitting out the rapid fire text with awesome poise and precision. Her singing was exemplary, whether belting in chest voice, or intoning sentiments in a well-modulated soprano. Ms. Pires managed to successfully create two unique characters who were well-rounded and enormously empathetic. Her deeply felt rendition of “Children and Art” was memorably moving, and she triumphantly managed to make the role(s) her own.
As the unctuous, envious fellow artist Jules, Marc Webster balanced pomposity with eventual warmth. He was ably partnered by Claire McCahan as Jules’ snooty wife Yvonne, whose rich mezzo paired well with his suave bass to enliven the judgmental duet, “No Life.” (In Act II, they played Bob Greenberg and Betty, respectively.) It was rather deluxe casting to have Artist-in-Residence Luretta Bybee portray the Old Lady (George’s mother) and art critic Blair Daniels. As the former, Ms. Bybee treated us to her plummy mezzo-soprano in a haunting rendition of “Beautiful;” while as the latter, she tinted her line delivery with sardonic relish.
The rest of the large ensemble cast was wholly successful in their multiple doubled roles, and each contributed mightily to the powerful impact of the performance. Drawn from the ranks of the Resident Artists Program, their excellence is a testament to the success of that invaluable training. Bravi tutti!
The set design is a staggering memorial to the gifts of the late John Conklin to whose memory this entire Glimmerglass Festival is dedicated. As executed by his associate James Rotondo, this creation is a model of inventiveness. I had thought the original Broadway design was definitive, but the achievement of this freshly re-imagined look was quite breathtaking. It looks simple at first, with a bare back well bathed in red, and a cloth-covered square platform center, but as soon as it starts, George pulls away the ground cloth and reveals a raked platform, with green grassy texture.
Soon, white rectangles of various sizes fly in and Greg Emataz’s remarkable projections rev up, and it is pretty much non-stop visual delights for the rest of the evening. Well-chosen set pieces, handheld placards, and delightful cut outs, all fluidly deployed added to the visual magic.
Beth Goldenberg’s colorful period costumes for Act I accurately mimic the figures in the famed painting, and her more contemporary choices for Act II were richly characterful, especially for great-grandson George. Amith Chandrashaker has contributed a wondrous lighting design that not only complements the myriad projected effects but also plays a key role in the mood and pacing of the show. Light was so important to Seurat that Mr. Chandrashaker’s constantly shifting focus, and his use of shadows was very telling. I especially loved that he punched up the buttons of musical numbers that did not themselves have solid buttons. It really helped shape the show. Joel T. Morain’s sound design featured blessedly subtle amplification, and a great mix for the Chromolume presentation, among other strengths.
Ethan Heard has directed the piece to a fare-thee-well, making sense of the patchwork of vignettes, and creating beautiful relationships, most especially between George (1) and Dot. Mr. Heard displayed great skill in using all areas of the playing space and enabling flowing stage pictures. I like the concept of having all the actors but George at first seated in rows on either side facing the platform, and physically reacting, even participating with motion as George sings his pointillistic groups of colors as he paints. If anything, this concept might have been even further developed. I also admired that he got a very even performance level from all of performers, although a couple may have been on the verge of broadness.
It was such a gift to have such a fine group of musicians in the pit, and conductor Michael Ellis brought out the best in them. This is not an easy score, but Maestro Ellis was able to elicit sass and bite when called for, radiant sustained passages, angular rhythms, and hypnotizing arpeggiated figures with equal skill. Moreover, this is a talky show, with many stretches of dialogue, but he kept the band fresh, focused and on point throughout.
Sunday in the Park with George was a consummate accomplishment. Of all Sondheim’s major successes, it is the one that borders on the esoteric, even cerebral. But this talented team of artists looked for and found the beating heart at the center of the piece, brought it home, and filled the house with it.
The show opines that “Art isn’t easy.” Maybe, but Glimmerglass sure made it appear so.
James Sohre
Sunday in the Park with George
Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by James Lapine
George: John Riddle; Dot/Marie: Marina Pires; Old Lady/ Blair Daniels: Luretta Bybee; Nurse/Mrs./Harriet Pawling: Taylore-Alexis DuPont; Jules/Bob Greenberg: Marc Webster; Yvonne/Betty: Claire McCahan; Boatman/Charles Redmond; Erik Nordstrom; Celeste #1/Naomi Eisen: Angela Yam; Celeste #2/Elaine: SarahAnn Duffy; Boy/Louise: Ella Swift; Franz/Dennis: Justin Burgess; Frieda/Photographer: Viviana Aurelia Goodwin; Soldier/Alex: Reed Gnepper; Louis/Man/Billy Webster: Sahel Salam; A Woman on the Bank/Waitress: Madison Manning; Mr./Lee Randolph; Young Man/Trumpeter/Party Guest: Peter Murphy; Conductor: Michael Ellis Ingram; Director: Ethan Heard; Set Designer: John Conklin; Associate Set Designer: James Rotondo; Costume Designer: Beth Goldenberg; Lighting Designer: Amith Chandrashaker; Projection Design: Greg Emetaz; Sound Designer: Joel T. Morain; Hair and Make-up: Tom Watson
Top image: John Riddle (L) as George and Marina Pires as Dot (far R) with the Ensemble in the 2025 Glimmerglass Festival Production of Sunday in the Park with George. Photo by Brent DeLanoy/The Glimmerglass Festival.