Judi Dench was on Graham Norton’s chat show recently to promote her new book, Is It Too Late to Make a Run for It?

It’s a series of conversations with her friend Brendan O’Hea about her life and the people she’s known.

One of the people she talks about is Stephen Sondheim.

In the book she gives one of the best analyses of “Send In the Clowns” that I’ve ever seen.

D’you remember how Sondheim came to the dress rehearsal of A Little Night Music and didn’t say a word to us afterwards?

Yes, that was very odd. And we were so excited about him being there. He didn’t even say hello to Larry, who was in the original Broadway production. Larry was so upset about it.

It’s because Sondheim hated what we were doing, Jude. He cornered Sean in the foyer afterwards and said, ‘You’ve ruined my show. It’s all so dark.’

What did he mean ‘dark’? The lighting or the acting? Because I’d argue the piece is dark. It’s about mismatched couples who are full of longing and despair and pent-up sexual frustrations. They all converge on a grand country house and lay bare their unfulfilled lives. Hal Prince called A Little Night Music ‘whipped cream with knives’. Maybe there wasn’t enough whipped cream for Sondheim.

Well, all credit to Sean for keeping that from us and protecting the company before our very first preview. That’s a good leader. Poor chap, he must’ve been in agony. I’m so glad I didn’t know of Sondheim’s feelings beforehand, otherwise I’m not sure how I would’ve got myself onstage.

It turned out fine in the end, because after he heard the audience response from that first preview, with people on their feet, cheering, he completely changed his mind and became very supportive of the production – and also apologised to Sean.

Did you have a chance to work with Sondheim during the previews?

We all did – as did you, surely, because you had that difficult song as Henrik while playing the cello.

He gave me two notes. He said, ‘When you sing the word “God” – which is that very high note – try singing it in an American accent as that will open the vowel sound more. And also get my words right. It’s “FOR later”, not “TILL later”.’

It’s all about the words with Sondheim, isn’t it? I know we each only had half an hour with him, but it was an immense privilege – a bit like having Shakespeare take you through the sonnets. He showed me how ‘Send in the Clowns’ was a series of direct questions, short sentences and silences:

Don’t you love farce?

My fault, I fear.

I thought that you’d want what I want.

Sorry, my dear.

But where are the clowns?

Quick, send in the clowns.

Don’t bother, they’re here.

He said the reason for that was because the character was too full of rage to sing long, sustained phrases, which is such a cracking good note to give an actor.

It’s too easy to see that particular song as a wonderful, lyrical ballad, isn’t it?

Out of context, yes, but it’s a brilliant piece of narrative storytelling. And as with all Sondheim songs, it’s a short play with a beginning, middle and an end. Look at us, she sings to her old flame, Fredrik, who she hasn’t seen for years, reunited after all this time, but now at completely different stages in our lives: ‘Me here at last on the ground, you in mid-air.’

Fredrik once proposed marriage to her, but she rejected him because she was too busy enjoying the single life. Seeing him again, she finally realises how much she loves him and is ready to settle down. But it’s too late, he’s moved on; he’s infatuated with his new eighteen-year-old wife. It’s a song about missed opportunities.

Just when I’d stopped opening doors,

Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.

Making my entrance again with my usual flair,

Sure of my lines,

No one is there.

Sondheim knew about character – Desiree is an actor who uses theatre metaphors to explain her feelings. In the nineteenth century, when a performer was dying a death onstage, they’d send on the clowns to crack a few jokes. Desiree has misjudged everything and fallen flat on her face, but she says there’s no need to send in the clowns on this occasion – they’re already here. She’s suddenly realised that she’s the clown, she’s the one who’s been a fool. It’s a bitterly sardonic song, laced with fury.

There’s more about Sondheim in her book, as well as about many of her other acting experiences. Dame Judi was a very naughty woman and played terrible practical jokes on some of her fellow actors.

BTW, the references to Sondheim not liking that production (it was a bad time in his life as he was breaking up with PJ at the time) and his not speaking to Laurence Gittard are covered more extensively in the podcast series that I mentioned a few days ago.

 

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