When I first heard that Sonoma Arts Live was staging Stephen Sondheim’s Follies, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and introspection. Sondheim’s work has always been a mirror to the human condition, but Follies? It’s a piece that doesn’t just reflect—it dissects. What makes this production particularly fascinating is its timing. In a world that glorifies youth and instant gratification, here’s a show that dares to ask: What happens when the curtain falls on our dreams? What remains when we’re forced to confront the ghosts of our past selves?
Personally, I think Follies is more than a musical; it’s a cultural artifact. Set in 1971, against the backdrop of a crumbling Broadway theater, the story feels eerily relevant today. We’re living in an era where nostalgia is commodified, and yet, we’re terrified of aging. Sondheim’s genius lies in his ability to capture this tension. The characters in Follies aren’t just ex-showgirls; they’re every one of us, grappling with the choices we’ve made and the lives we could have lived.
One thing that immediately stands out is the visual metaphor of the characters being followed by their younger selves. It’s not just a clever staging device—it’s a profound commentary on how our pasts are inescapable. From my perspective, this duality is what makes the show so haunting. We’re not just watching a reunion; we’re witnessing a collision between who we were and who we’ve become. Director Pat Nims seems to understand this deeply. His focus on the emotional weight of aging characters isn’t just about melodrama; it’s about forcing the audience to confront their own mortality.
What many people don’t realize is how Follies challenges our cultural obsession with youth. Songs like “I’m Still Here” aren’t just survival anthems—they’re acts of defiance. Carlotta Campion, played by Alexis Lane Jensen, embodies this resilience. Her character isn’t just surviving; she’s thriving in a world that’s constantly trying to erase her. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a radical message in a society that treats aging as a failure.
The production’s creative team deserves credit for preserving Sondheim’s brassy, heartbreaking brilliance. Music director Anthony Mayer and choreographer Tara Roberts have managed to keep the pastiche numbers fresh without sacrificing their emotional core. Songs like “Losing My Mind” and “Broadway Baby” aren’t just showstoppers; they’re emotional gut-punches. What this really suggests is that Sondheim’s work isn’t just timeless—it’s timely.
But here’s where it gets interesting: Follies isn’t just about regret. It’s about the beauty of imperfection. The characters’ flaws, their missed opportunities, their unspoken longings—these are what make them human. In a world that demands perfection, Follies is a reminder that our cracks are what let the light in.
This raises a deeper question: Why do we find stories of regret so compelling? Is it because they mirror our own fears? Or is it because they offer a strange kind of comfort—proof that we’re not alone in our struggles? Personally, I think it’s both. Follies doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does offer something far more valuable: empathy.
As the curtains rise on Sonoma Arts Live’s production, I can’t help but wonder what the audience will take away. Will they see themselves in Buddy’s unspoken longing or Sally’s desperate attempt to reclaim her youth? Or will they, like me, be left with a lingering sense of melancholy—a reminder that life, like theater, is a series of missed cues and second acts?
What makes this production particularly intriguing is its ability to balance the personal and the universal. It’s a story about four people, but it’s also a story about all of us. In a world that’s constantly moving forward, Follies dares us to look back—not with regret, but with understanding.
So, if you’re in Sonoma this September, do yourself a favor: go see Follies. But don’t just watch it—feel it. Let the music, the characters, and the haunting duality of past and present wash over you. Because, in the end, isn’t that what theater is all about? Not just telling stories, but making us feel alive.
