Losing a Legend

I'm rather disproportionately sad about the passing of theatrical giantess Elaine Stritch.  I guess it's not just that she gave me so much pleasure as a theater lover, but also, the loss of Stritch is another loss for truly sui generis, idiosyncratic performers who are unto themselves.  They're a dwindling breed.  I often wonder why individuality is practically being stamped out of kids who are studying performance nowadays.  They can all sing technically 'better' than stars of the past, or they can kick their legs over their head as dancers, but the ineffible sense of 'it' is missing.  Of personality combined with talent.  At least, that's how it seems to me.  This has nothing to do with Stritch, but I remember seeing the Broadway musical Fosse - I appreciated the talent of all the young kids 'doing' the Fosse choreography, but it was special guest star Ben Vereen who caught my eye.  He was living it.  He may not have been able to dance as well as the kids, but he had the Fosse stuff in his bones and he was such a distinctive presence - he was compelling.

Bringing this back to Stritch, she was ALWAYS compelling.  You could not take your eyes off her.  I believe the first time I saw her was in college, watching the Follies in Concert documentary.  She was just so lovably irascible and so effortlessly funny, and watching her turn it 'on' when she went on stage was startling.  And genius.  I watched my ragged VHS tape, recorded off tv, over and over.  One night, after I raved about her in that concert, my boyfriend at the time then showed me his ragged VHS copy of the Company documentary.  Jesus H Christ.  What an experience watching the torture of genius.  So where I thought she was effortless before, I suddenly had a better idea of the responsibility of being born with such talent.  She may have had instinct and comic genius inside of her, but she also had to work to the bone to get the absolute most out of it.  And boy did she have demons.  I don't think I've ever seen anything so raw.  Well, except for the recent documentary about her, Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me, which I saw when I was last in California (I believe I mentioned it in a previous blog post). 

The first time I saw her live on stage was when I saw the revival of A Delicate Balance in 1996.  I saw the production maybe four or five times.  It was incredible.  Stritch was so caustic and brilliant, yet in such pain.  She could play both sides of that coin beautifully.  In fact, part of her genius may have been her ability to be absolutely human at all times.  She knew that no one person is one thing and boy, could she be more than one thing at a time.  Of course, another part of her genius was that NO ONE could put over a lyric like her.  NO ONE. 

I feel privileged to have seen her in her one-woman show Elaine Stritch At Liberty.  She was 76 years old and was digging into the depths of her soul at every performance.  It was awe-inspiring.  I can still hear her imitating Noel Coward: Stritchie!  Stritchie!  I often find myself using that term of endearment in my head whenever I think of Elaine Stritch.

I also saw what turned out to be her last Broadway appearance, as Madame Armfeldt in A Little Night Music.  I regret not seeing Angela Lansbury, but I am so grateful I saw Elaine do it.  I'll admit, the night I saw it, she was a tad 'off' and got lost in her lyrics during "Liaisons," but when she was on, she BROUGHT IT.  The sharpness of her wit, the way she made every line a singular experience.  And her delight at the curtain call was just enchanting.  She was always like watching a master class in being a true stage being.  The lights were on her, but the lights were also in her.  She was special special special on screen (I cracked up at her episodes of 30 Rock as Alec Baldwin's mom and I love her Law and Order episodes), but on stage is where she belonged.

I was in the same room with her only once:  she performed at a fundraiser for my company, maybe ten or twelve years ago.  I vaguely remember my boss talking about what a pain in the patootie she was during the planning stages.  But what I really remember, and cherish, is my memory of her performance.  Any hassles she caused were worth the vitality, the electricity, the absolute individuality she had on that stage, in my opinion.  She did a number from the still-unproduced musical version of The Royal Family, songs by William Finn.  Bill introduced her and she came out and completely knocked a song called "Stupid Things I Won't Do" out of the park.  She was the character Fanny and she was talking about things she wouldn't do, like reading newspapers without reviews in them, or movies.  The song is delightful.  And when she came to the end of the song and practically shouted the lyrics (and I'm paraphrasing here, you can listen to Bill Finn do the song on his Infinite Joy CD to get all the delicious lyrics, so I could be off, but these are what I hear Elaine singing in my mind) "GIVE ME THEATER! I NEED THEATER! I WANT THEATER!", it was like time stopped and she wasn't performing anymore, she was living.  It was yet another perfect marriage of performer and song.  I get chills just remembering it.  How many performers had so many perfect songs?  Maybe just Stritchie.  Or maybe that's just what I want to remember.   There will be no one like her, ever again.  We can only be glad we could experience her at all.  I think I'll be streaming Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me this weekend and try to relive as much as I can.  Thank you, Stritchie, for the memories...