Despite curious initial reactions, Company is most certainly a defense-of-marriage musical. A cast of married couples spends the entire evening trying to convince their unattached friend that he should take the plunge, and he finally agrees with them.
But Dean Jones, who created the role of the habitually single Bobby in 1970, wanted out of the show because he was uncomfortable with what he saw as the show's "anti-marriage" message. (He left two weeks after its Broadway opening, amidst his messy divorce proceedings.) And the showbiz journal Variety would have been happy if the show had never reached New York. Reviewing the musical's out-of-town tryout in Boston, Variety reported that "it's for ladies' matinees, homos, and misogynists." One just might think that composer Stephen Sondheim's and librettist George Furth's sexualities were being reviewed.
In the decades since, Company has been tweaked by its authors, but it's still a musical with the same message. Now thanks to same-sex marriage advocates and the Supreme Court, that message has been recharged �" if homos want so much this thing we already have, maybe it's worth more than we realized. On the other hand, the conformative pressure that the character Bobby endures can become equal-opportunity hectoring.
But let's get back to Company, which is now widely considered a classic that launched the intelligent, form-breaking collaborations between Sondheim and director-producer Hal Prince that would include Follies, Pacific Overtures and Sweeney Todd. Although there have been reimagined stagings of the musical �" director John Doyle's stripped-down "I-am-my-own-orchestra" production was well-received on Broadway and later aired as a PBS special, with hints of a bisexual Bobby �" San Francisco Playhouse is offering a mostly straightforward rendering with enough polish and appealing performances to make the production a stylish success.
The stories of Company are played out in a series of vignettes as the popular Bobby visits with his various sets of "those good and crazy people, my married friends," while sometimes breaking off for a liaison with one of the three young women he has mostly been stringing along. In director Susie Damilano's imaginative staging, the scenes flow smoothly into each other, set on Bill English and Jacquelyn Scott's utilitarian set of scaffolds in front of large projections of various Manhattan scenes.
Each of the five couples in Bobby's life have their own idiosyncrasies but enjoy his company for the break he provides in their routine, and as a cause to provide him with something they are sure is missing from his life. While the wives are singing "poor baby, all alone, evening after evening by the telephone," Robert is simultaneously seducing a flight attendant who accepts his pro forma imploration to stay after their fling in the one-night-stand song "Barcelona."
As the ditsy flight attendant, Morgan Daley beautifully handles her showcase moment, a spotlight that moves about the couples for their defining moments. She also is part of the excellent harmonizing trio of Bobby's girlfriends (including Michelle Drexler and Teresa Attridge, the latter less equipped to go solo on "Another Hundred People") who rail against Robert's commitment-phobia in "You Could Drive a Person Crazy." Other superior moments belong to Monique Hafen as bride-to-be Amy with cold feet, who gets great comic mileage out of the rat-a-tat lyrics of "Getting Married Today," and Stephanie Prentice, who, despite Elaine Stritch's formidable precedent, gives tough-cookie Joanne her own personality and sells, at least to a final wobbly note, the excoriating "The Ladies Who Lunch."
The men mostly get their due in the dialogue moments with their spouses, and in such sensitively sung ensemble numbers as "Sorry-Grateful," which features Richard Frederick, Ryan Drummond, and Christopher Reber. All of the cast members, albeit some more flashily, contribute to the cohesive tone of the production, a group that also includes Velina Brown, John Paul Gonzalez, Abby Sammons, Nicole Weber, and Michael Scott Wells.
And then there's Robert, also known as Bobby Baby and Bobby Bubbi, a tricky role because it's that of a detached observer. But Keith Pinto doesn't let Bobby become a cipher, giving him some edge and a streak of smugness. His voice is fine, and while there are moments along the way when one may doubt it, he does deliver on his big song "Being Alive." He's also one of the good-enough dancers who deliver Kimberly Richards' playful choreography.
Grand pianos on either side of the stage, one manned by music director David Dobrusky, provide a fuller sound than a two-piece accompaniment might suggest. It's all in service to a musical about to-death-do-us-part commitment that, in its skill, gives you evidence otherwise before declaring its true intentions. There is an undercurrent of single-shaming in Company, which the Supreme Court's decision obliquely echoed. But in a quality production such as SF Playhouse's, Company, and especially Sondheim's words and music, are always worth a revisit, no matter your nuptial notions.
Company will run at San Francisco Playhouse through Sept. 12. Tickets are $20-$120. Call (415) 677-9596 or go to sfplayhouse.org.