If I Loved You
I’ve become a teeny bit obsessed with the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical “Carousel,” while indulging in one of my favorite procrastination habits—watching YouTube videos.
Now, the musical “Carousel” was stupid in a lot of ways, especially the movie version. I tend to detest movie musicals anyway, and “Carousel” contains some special abominations. For instance, it added a prologue, set in some unspecified after-death location—was it heaven? purgatory?—that foreshadowed the fact that main protagonist Billy Bigelow died during the course of the story, so that his death, which had been such a shock in the stage play, comes as no surprise at all.
And then there was how Billy died. Instead of yelling out Julie’s name and committing suicide because he knew how he’d messed up, he falls on his knife by accident (I can’t find exact documentation for all of this, but that’s it if memory serves me). Dumb change, typical of the 50s.
And that wasn’t all that was changed. Some of the lyrics were cleaned up, as though they weren’t clean enough already. For example, in the incredibly moving “Soliloquy” (one of the few songs ever written about becoming a father), the word “virgin” (in the line “a skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water”) is changed to “lady.” Ugh.
The movie’s sound stage and lip-syching don’t help, either. Where does the following scene take place? It looks like some weird combo of the Washington DC mall at cherry blossom time, a Florida swamp, and a lake. Not coastal Maine, where it’s supposed to be set (and where some of the film was beautifully filmed).
But—and but and but and but—the excellent John Raitt of the stage version became the transcendentally-voiced and even handsomer and sexier Gordon MacRae in the movie, and the stage’s Jan Clayton (yes, she of later “Lassie” TV fame) became the more beautiful and sonorous-toned Shirley Jones (TV and “The Partridge Family” being in her very distant future, as well). MacRae and Jones conveyed more sorrow in their voices, even from the beginning.
MacRae is simply spectacular here. I’ve watched many YouTube renditions of this song, old and new, pro and amateur, and I’ve not seen one to compare. MacRae wasn’t the greatest with the spoken word. His acting is servicable and nothing special. But when he sings, not only does his voice pour like honey, but singing releases something within him that allows him to act wonderfully, too. In the role of Billy Bigelow—and especially when singing this particular song. “If I Loved You,” the theme of which is hidden longing and love that can’t be expressed—his slight problem with emotion in speaking and his facility with emotion when singing are a perfect fit (just hear what he does with the word “longing”):
The musical contains a reprise of the song, occurring after Billy has screwed everything up and died. He gets a chance to come back to earth for a day and visit the wife he left behind and the daughter he wanted to love but never met. He mucks it up again for a while, and then—well, here’s MacRae as Billy (or Billy’s ghost, or Billy’s spirit or shade), trying to tell his wife how much he really did love her. Note how well he expresses the profound regret of a man who knows now what he didn’t know then:
And here, to be fair, is John Raitt in “If I Loved You.” He’s no slouch, either; what a beautiful voice! He’s really really really good. But as good as Raitt is, to me MacRae remains superior in every way. This is the entire song, a more complete version than the one I cued up in the movie; well worth watching the whole thing. But Raitt’s part starts around 6:11:
My parents loved the musicals, and recently they played this one for us, our kids, my sister and her family – we probably saw it when we were younger, and we definitely grew up with the songs, but – I was, we all were, really quite shocked at the message in this movie. We found ourselves pointing out to our daughters how lucky we are that things had changed – how could that abusive relationship with such an obviously dishonest loser possibly be called ‘love.’
My Dad had remembered it as a redemptive love story – we could not find one shred of that in it. Even at the end, I could only think, what a waste. A waste of a life, and of her life in particular, thinking love meant she had to accept such misery in her life. Even in the end, it was all about him (Billy).
That final McRae clip certainly fetches me.
Rose: I know a lot of people see it that way. That part of the movie (where Julie seems to accept the fact that Billy hit her) has a message that can be bad if it seems as though it’s saying that a person should put up with abuse.
But I don’t really think that’s what’s going on. I think it (at least in the original, although not necessarily the movie version, which is more syrupy) is trying to describe something rather than recommend it. Women in abusive relationships do often stay and put up with it, even today. And the point of the movie is that Billy is trying to learn to love, although not all that successfully until perhaps the very end.
It is that rarity, a tragic Rodgers and Hammerstein musical that defies any easy resolution of human difficulties and darkness, despite the inspirational song “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” It is not entirely successful, or even mostly successful. But the music is among the most beautiful ever written. And MacRae remains phenomenal, in my opinion.
It’s unfair to compare film acting and filmed stage acting.
Raitt makes little attempt at that – he’s emoting for an audience that cannot see (or hear) close up (or at least, duplicating a performance in that style in a television studio).
Film actors have to show us up close what their characters are thinking – letting emotions play across their faces while hiding any effort involved.
Stage actors don’t have to produce such intimate, naturalistic effects – or hide their efforts to emote.
In this case, MacRae may even have been lip-synching or dubbing himself after the fact. And Raitt was performing unaided by microphones or amplifiers.
… and as a father, I find I cannot sit through the “soliloquy” – a catalog of shallow male stereotypes.
MacRae and Jones were wonderful in Carousel but the story sets their characters too apart – distant from each other. Not at all like in Oklahoma where the two are made for each other and carry the show both with their individual gifts but also as a third character – the two of them as a couple.
I had a teeny tiny obsession
I made it my secret possession
When it fell away
My happy happy day
Was hallowed by my confession
Ben David: yes, I already mentioned the lip-synching in the movie. I pretty much always prefer stage versions.
But believe me, MacRae had a voice that could project without a mic. Very powerful, although he could sing softly as well. He sang on the stage back then, too, on occasion, although he wasn’t primarily known for that. But it’s his voice quality that I love much more than Raitt’s; the emotion in his voice, not his facial expressions (although I certainly like his face as well). But both singers are very very very good.
As for “Soliloquy,” of course it’s stereotypical and of its time (written in the 40s). But you know what, there are differences between boys and girls. And even today, although we may not be aware of it, we as parents use different tones of voice to babies of different gender (for example). I think gender differences are just part of life, and we cannot deny them, although of course both boys and girls should be encouraged to do whatever they might want in terms of career.
Note, by the way, that in the lyrics to “Soliloquy,” the singer says of his imaginary daughter that she’s “half again as bright as girls are meant to be.” Sexist, yes. But he wants his daughter to be especially smart.
I don’t care about the sexism, to tell you the truth, because the song (like all great art) moves me. I see it as an exploration of the universal human theme of hopes and dreams for a child who exists as yet only in the imagination. And in terms of the drama of the musical “Carousel,” the song sets up the beginning of Billy’s character change, in that he wants things to be better for his child, and the tragedy of the way he goes about doing so (stealing) which leads to his death and the irony of his abandonment of his child.
Also, I don’t have time right now to check where I read it, but when I was researching this I saw that the song was originally just about having a son. Either Rodgers or Hammerstein (forget which one) had recently had a daughter, though, and decided it would be important to include a part about having a daughter.
Neo, as to Carousel, I’m with you. It’s a strange show — but I saw a high school production in 1976 at Amherst Regional High School in Massachusetts; I don’t know who sang “If I Loved You,” and it certainly wasn’t John Raitt or Gordon MacRae — but the memory still sends chills over me. Yes, it’s dark, and it’s all about abuse and loss and death — but the music is incomparable, and that’s because of something about the darkness.
Neo:
You’re spot on about Carousel. I listened to it hundreds of times on an old 33 RPM record (remember what those are?) and knew all the songs by heart. In fact when I clicked on the “play” arrow of your first click I could (and did) start the dialogue exactly where MacRae did after hearing only the first note of music. Yes, the story is dated and sexist by today’s standards, but the music is touching both for the words and the orchestration. Thanks for this post. F
I pretty much grew up with this musical, my parents had the record and played it a lot. I didn’t see the actual movie of the musical until a few years ago, and it came across as *much* darker than I had perceived from just the music.
Richard Rogers wrote a lot of great music. I guess I am as obsessive about “South Pacific” as Neo is about “Carousel”. A few of my favorites are “Some Enchanted Evening”, “This Nearly Was Mine”, and “Younger Than Springtime” (I think John Raitt sang IT if the first Broadway production of “South Pacific”).
When I want to feel all better, I listen to “Edelweiss” from “Sound of Music”.
In a documentary about him, Richard Rogers said that he had to work HARD for every note in his songs. And yet, his melodies flow so beautifully and naturally.
texexec: Raitt wasn’t in “South Pacific.”
The role of Lieutenant Cable (the character who sang “Younger Than Springtime”) was played on Broadway by William Tabbert.
oops….my mistake. Thanks for setting me straight.
BTW, you’re up LATE! (Unless you’re in CA.)
I think I can understand this nostalgia. We create our memories when we’re young and they sustain us as we approach the end.
First saw “Carousel” in 1963 at a local dinner-theater venue in South Jersey. Was on a school sponsored outing. Had no idea what the show was about. At the first song, I was entranced. When I heard “If I Loved You,” I realized that I knew the music from my mother singing it around the house (and she had a good voice).
Now, all these years later, I’m a grandfather to three teenaged girls and am worried about the propensity for the abusive boy friend to hit, even murder, young girls.
So, I’m no longer such a fan of the show… pity that.
Joseph Welsh: I’ve heard that over and over from people and I don’t see it that way at all. One of the comments here expresses quite well the way I look at it:
texexec:
Richard Rogers wrote a lot of great music.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Yep – a very long and distinguished career – and the quality never flagged, even when the ideas were so-so.
The white-bread image most of us have when we say the phrase “Rogers and Hammerstein” obscures the fact that he was one of America’s great composers.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKCUapUEFkY
The above is a Youtube of John Raitt doing the ‘Soliloquy’ on the General Foods TV show. I don’t think anyone has ever done it better, especially that last note. Also as an “old fogey” I think the line “you can have fun with a son, but you have to be a father to a girl” still holds today.
“It’s been a wonderful clambake…” I saw the film and then a stage presentation, both long ago. The years have passed, but not the pain.
The horror, the horror.
And isn’t there a less than subtle suggestion that if your old man beats you, well at least it shows he cares?
Hollywood just can’t pass up a chance to be perverse.
They took an idea for a series about a Chinese-Caucasian martial arts expert, thought up and presented by Bruce Lee, a Chinese-Caucasian martial arts expert, and cast David Carradine in the lead after teaching him a few moves and shaving his eyebrows.
One of my good childhood friends was a Russian Jew named Randy Kuluva whose uncle, Will, was always cast whenever there was a need for a Mexican Grandee, southern California being notably bereft of Mexicans.
They took the lead in My Fair lady away from Julie Andrews, who was beautiful and could sing and gave it to Audrey Hepburn, who was beautiful but couldn’t sing and Marnie Nixon had to loop the songs.
When they needed Lauren Bacall to sing in To Have and Have Not they picked a boy, Andy Williams, to loop it for her because female singers are also in short supply in Hollywood.
When they wanted a rugged, all-male guy they picked Rock Hudson and then the writers made fun of him in every movie he was in.
They cast 5’6″ men opposite 6′ women and then one of them has to shoot every long shot standing on a bucket or in a trench (the exception being Doc Hollywood where the long shots show Michael Fox to be shorter).
They jest caint hep it.
This brings back such memories for me – my parents had the broadway cast albums for both “Carousel” and “South Pacific”, including the very album cover for SP shown here. Rodgers was unquestionably one of the greatest songwriters ever, his works stretching back before Hammerstein to his collaboration with Lorenz Hart. And Hammerstein had previously collaborated with Jerome Kern who may have been not quite as prolific as Rodgers but wrote two of the best songs ever, “All the Things You Are” and “The Way You Look Tonight”.
Some people prefer the Rodgers and Hart work as more sophisticated and less sentimental than Rodgers and Hammerstein, but for my money it is all fabulous. These works stand the test of time and are as tuneful and moving as they were when they were written the better part of a century ago.
If memory serves, Carousel is the musical version of a (Czech?) play, dating from the 1920s, if not earlier. Sexist or not, both versions were an honest attempt at fathoming human relationships.
roc scssrs: Yes, if you follow the link at the beginning, you’ll discover it was based on a very well-known Hungarian play called “Liliom.” Here’s more info (reading the whole link is quite interesting):
In “Musical Stages” Rodgers wrote of how he and Hammerstein were surprised to see Molné¡r (who had written Iliom) sitting in the theater auditorium the day of the first run-through of “Carousel.” They were convinced that he would hate the changed, more upbeat ending, and felt that everything that could go wrong during that rehearsal had.
Molné¡r was present again on opening night, and couldn’t contain his joy. After the performance, when Rodgers introduced the playwright to his brother, Molné¡r said to Morty, “He may be your brother, but he (Richard) is my son.”
Mrs. Whatsit,
Dear me… you really attended the 1976 ARHS production? That number “You’ll Never Walk Alone” was the showstopper as I recall. All-star cast: Julie Jordan was Becky Schneider ’77, and Billy Bigelow was played by Ralph (“Rafe!”) Gunner ’77.
Neo, I’m happy to find your blog (via Alabama transponder with Amherst connection), and to note our similar journeys [to condescension/ostracism]! Soldier on, comrade. We Shall Overcome.