If, like me, you’re a person who reads a lot of entertainment criticism, you’ll know that we live in a new Golden Age of Television. Honestly, all you have to do is turn on the TV (or tune into your streaming service of choice) to find plenty of evidence of television’s greatness! Since I don’t know what your favorite shows are, I’ll simply cite some of my own: with Ted Lasso; The Gilded Age; The Orville: New Horizons, and The Rookie on the airwaves, even a retro-loving fool such as myself can’t deny that there’s plenty of good storytelling being done on the tube (that isn’t really a tube anymore) nowadays!
However, universal law states that for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction, and that applies to more than just physics! In the case of television, this means that when good stuff comes in the front door, other good shows get shoved out the back. In this case, I think TV’s greatest loss is standalone storytelling, particularly anthology drama!
Before our modern era, the 1950s were often cited as the Golden Age of Television. The decade earned that title for all sorts of reasons and due to several good shows, some of which still live on in re-runs. If you ask me, however, the most important shows of that decade are also the hardest to find: the live anthologies! With shows like Kraft Television Theatre, Studio One, and Playhouse 90, audiences were treated to plays by the best writers TV could boast (Paddy Chayefsky and Rod Serling, for instance), helmed by incredibly talented directors (like Franklin J. Schaffner, John Frankenheimer, and Sidney Lumet), and broadcasted live into the homes of thousands of TV-watchers. It was the closest to live theatre that television would ever get, and the shows still pack a powerful punch!
By the mid-1960s, those anthology dramas had vanished from the airwaves, leaving a void that the networks struggled to fill. While anthology shows like The Twilight Zone, Thriller, and Alfred Hitchcock Presents defnitely produced their share of memorable stories, they differed from their predecessors in two major ways: they specialized in certain genres (horror and thrillers) and they weren’t live. As a result, the new wave of anthology series lost some of the prestige those live shows had enjoyed. All this contributed to an opinion that was growing in popularity: that TV was growing more stupid with each passing year.
In 1966, the executives at ABC decided to reverse TV’s negative publicity with a bit of nostalgia. During their fall rollout of new shows, the network introduced ABC Stage 67, an hour-long variety show devoted to adding some culture to viewers’ Wednesday nights! Each week, the show would present an hour-long feature devoted to the sort of material the live anthologies produced: drama, comedy, musicals, concerts, documentaries…that sort of thing. Each story would be preceded by this theme song, written by the legendary Elmer Bernstein:
To give ABC Stage 67 the air of prestige they wanted, ABC executives approached the most impressive talent they could find, inviting them to contribute segments to the show. This resulted in a truly astounding string of episodes, including:
- Noon Wine, a tragic Western tale directed by Sam Peckinpah (The Wild Bunch)
- Rodgers and Hart Today, a concert celebrating Richard Rodgers & Lorenz Hart and featuring some of the biggest pop-music acts of the period, including Bobby Darin, Petula Clark, and The Mamas & The Papas
- The Legend of Marilyn Monroe, a tribute to the late star directed by John Huston
- The Canterville Ghost, a musical version of Oscar Wilde’s short story with songs by Jerry Bock & Sheldon Harnick
…And, of course, what we’ve come to talk about today: Evening Primrose. First, though, let’s lay out a little context!
In 1965, Broadway composer Stephen Sondheim had just wrapped work on a difficult project: collaborating with another famous composer-Richard Rodgers-on the score for Do I Hear A Waltz?. Sondheim had agreed to the collaboration because of a promise he made to his late mentor, Oscar Hammerstein: that Sondheim would write a show with Rodgers, Hammerstein’s famous collaborator. The two writers clashed often, however, due to disagreements in their songwriting philosophies. Sondheim finished the project determined to be the sole songwriter on all his future projects. Casting about for a new project, Sondheim approached James Goldman, a playwright about to make a splash with his latest work, The Lion in Winter.
Sondheim asked Goldman if he would be interested in working on a musical together. Goldman agreed to the collab, providing a news clipping that had interested him: a small story about a reunion of former Ziegfeld girls. The article fascinated Sondheim as well, and the two began work on a script built around a showgirl reunion. The team brought an early version of their show-which they called The Girls Upstairs-to producer David Merrick, who rejected the project. Goldman and Sondheim would continue to work on the show over the next five years, eventually re-shaping it into the Broadway show Follies!
Unproduced plays don’t pay the bills, though, and James Goldman was at a point where he needed money in the bank; his wife was about to have a baby, and the expectant couple wanted a bigger place for their growing family. With this driving factor in mind, Goldman and Sondheim accepted the invitation to create a musical for Stage 67!
As they looked for inspiration, Goldman & Sondheim’s minds turned to the works of John Collier, a prolific writer known for his offbeat, darkly funny short stories dealing with the strange and supernatural. After considering a solid amount of Collier’s work, they settled on “Evening Primrose” as the story that spoke to them most. With a story in place, Goldman and Sondheim went to work, crafting what Craig Zadan would later call a “horror musical.” (Zadan coined this term in his book Sondheim & Co., by the way. Credit where credit is due!)
As “Evening Primrose” begins, we’re introduced to Charles Snell (Anthony Perkins), an idealistic poet who’s grown disillusioned with the fast-paced world that surrounds him. Seeking refuge from the troubles of everyday life, Charles visits a large Manhattan department store and hides himself in a display, stashing himself away until the only sounds he hears are the footsteps of the night watchman. Charles crawls out of his hiding place and notifies us of his plans: to live the rest of his days in the department store, making use of the supplies around him as he writes his poetry in peace.
All goes well until Charles runs into Roscoe (Larry Gates), another department store prowler! Through Roscoe, Charles learns that he’s not the only person living in the store; in fact, the store is home to a society of store-dwellers, led by the mysterious Mrs. Monday (Dorothy Stickney). This group of store-dwellers are highly suspicious of intruders, and they’re eager to wash their hands of Charles, suggesting that the “Dark Men” be called to dispose of the intruder. However, Mrs. Monday decides that she’d like to have a poet living in her people’s midst, so she allows him to stay on two conditions: (1) that he never tell anyone about the society’s existence, and (2) that he never leave the store’s premises, day or night. Charles is happy to oblige, but things get complicated when…
…He falls in love with Ella (Charmian Carr), Mrs. Monday’s maid and, like Charles, an outsider in the society. Unlike the other members of the department-store society, Ella isn’t there by choice. She was just a child who got separated from her parents in the store one night thirteen years before Charles’s arrival. That night, Ella was captured by the society, kept from leaving in order to keep the society secret. Charles and Ella embark on a clandestine romance, and, eventually, the two decide to leave the store and make a life in the outside world. However, as we’ve already discussed, leaving the store is strictly forbidden, and any attempt to do so would result in a visit from the “Dark Men.” Ella’s not sure what the Dark Men do to intruders and escapees, but two things are certain: the intruders/escapees are never seen again, and the store has a new mannequin the next morning.
Still, Ella and Charles make plans to leave the store, confident they can escape safely. Mrs. Monday and the other society members have started acting strangely, though, as if they know something they shouldn’t…
Earlier, I referred to “Evening Primrose” as a horror musical. I think there’s no better way to describe this highly unique show! In many ways, the hour plays out much like an episode of The Twilight Zone with added show tunes! Much like the best Zone episodes, “Evening Primrose” creates the feeling that reality as we know it is rather thin, and that strange, mysterious things are happening around us without our awareness. Both Zone and “Evening Primrose” evoke the vibe that one random choice could plunge us into a topsy-turvy world where regular rules don’t apply. On top of all that, both Zone and “Primrose” are famous for ironic twist endings that stick in the memory for weeks, years, or even lifetimes. In fact, these are the very qualities that drew Sondheim and Goldman to John Collier’s story!
However, the music of the show doesn’t grow out of the horrific elements of the story. Instead, they bloom from Charles and Ella’s relationship, charting the romantic arc as their mutual feelings develop into plans to make a life together. In Charles & Ella’s first private meeting, Ella gets her first number with “I Remember,” as she discusses her sketchy memories of the world beyond the store doors. The song isn’t as intricate as Sondheim’s music would become, but the simplicity fits the emotion of the scene, as Ella reaches with childlike wonder toward the memories of her early years:
If you’re looking for something with more of the archetypal Sondheim sound, you can turn to “When?,” my favorite song of the show! In this song, we’re treated to the inner thoughts of Ella and Charles as they struggle to keep their relationship secret from Mrs. Monday and the department-store society. I love the interplay between Charles & Ella’s trains of thought, and the way Sondheim weaves them together with playful lyrical tricks! Oh, and speaking of lyrics, “When?” contains what I think may be one of the maestro’s funnier jokes. After Charles struggles to write a love poem for his beloved, frustration causes him to blurt,
“Ella, poets who suffer pain
Should fall in love with girls named Jane…”
Later in the story, as we arrive at the end of the second act, Ella treats us to her “I Want” song: “Take Me to the World.” Personally, I think this song is fascinating for two reasons: its placement in the story and the lyrical structure!
In terms of song placement, “Take Me to the World” stands out from its “I Want” contemporaries in how late it appears! In your typical musical, the “I Want” song comes early in the show, usually near the top of Act I. This makes perfect sense given the function these songs serve; this is the point where the protagonist tells us about the desires they hope to have at story’s end. Since these desires are what fuel the character’s choices, it’s important that we get this information quickly! (If it’s examples you seek, think about “Wouldn’t it be Loverly” from My Fair Lady; “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid, or one of my personal favorites, “Corner of the Sky” from Pippin!)
Since Ella doesn’t even know there are exciting things to desire when we first meet her, it wouldn’t make sense on a structural level for her to have her “I Want” moment early in the story. However, the moment Ella realizes that a new world is within her grasp, she tells us-and Charles-that she wants it!
That brings us to the other interesting thing about “Take Me to the World:” it’s a duet (well, part of it is, anyway)! I may be wrong-and I’d be happy to hear corrections from my theatre-expert friends-but, to my knowledge, it’s rare for “I Want” songs to be duets. Since they usually fall early in the show, we don’t really know enough characters to make an effective duet. Moreover, “I Want” songs tend to be introspective affairs, in which our hero takes private time to express the desires they wouldn’t share with anyone else.
However, “Take Me to the World”‘s late placement leaves room for creative storytelling, and Sondheim takes that opportunity! In “Evening Primrose”‘s case, Ella isn’t just expressing her desire to the audience; she’s also trying to convince Charles to join her in her goals. The second part of the song takes the format of a musical debate, and it’s fascinating to listen to the argument unfold!
There’s one other quality that predisposes me to like “Evening Primrose:” my old teenage dreams. See, during my high school days, I wasn’t what you’d call ambitious. Sure, I had some short- and long-term goals, but they were more pie-in-the-sky aspirations than desires toward which I was actively working. During those teen years, I was spending most of my time hanging around, getting good grades with minimal effort, and not really doing much. I always assumed that college and a two-year mission for my church lay beyond my high-school graduation, but beyond that… I didn’t know. (I eventually did both those things, and I’m glad I did.)
My romantic image of myself was as a wanderer: a pack on my back, clad in denim jacket and t-shirt, my wavy hair styled in some windblown, attractive way, hitching a ride to my next town and adventure. Naturally, I assumed I’d also be writing lots of prose from the road, my stories stronger due to the authenticity I would obtain from my travels. Living in an abandoned department store at night is just the sort of wild, free-as-the-birds idea that would have appealed to teenage me, before I learned that being a bum isn’t the strongest life choice. I guess I still have a little of that teenage romanticism inside me, though, because that will-of-the-wisp aspect of “Evening Primrose” still captured my heart!
I would never tell you that “Evening Primrose” is perfect, because it’s not; its hour-long runtime makes the story feel a little rushed, and Anthony Perkins & Charmian Carr don’t have the strongest singing voices in the world (which is why the renditions I included were sung by Neil Patrick Harris and Theresa McCarthy, not original cast recordings). I still think the episode’s pretty darn good, though! It combines two good tastes that sound like they would be horrible together-The Twilight Zone and the musical format-and comes up with a delicious confection with a striking story that sticks in the memory. I highly recommend checking the show out, and you can do so through the video below!
The Vintage Vestibule 