Another example of the show’s respect for narrative is the way that Hammerstein constructed the songs and their relationship to the dialogue between characters. It’s not something one considers much, as songs such as “The Surrey from the Fringe on Top” and “People Will Say We’re in Love” have been enjoyed for decades as self-sufficient songs on various cast albums and popular recordings but within the context of the production, nearly all of the songs in Oklahoma! are interrupted by, or carried through by, sections of dialogue. Dialogue is woven through lyrics even in such standards as “Surrey” and “People Will Say” – they are not stand-alone numbers. Of course, Hammerstein, as book writer and lyricist, was in complete control of all the words, but he also knew better than anyone in the business how to move from dialogue to the emotional expression of song and – importantly – how to move back again.
Still, as Rodgers & Hammerstein dove into writing the show, the attraction of a big self-sufficient production number was tempting. They had each stood at the rear of the orchestra in enough theaters for enough of their respective shows to watch enough audiences go bonkers for enough show-stoppers to realize how effective they could be. Old habits die hard. When confronting the act one closer of Oklahoma!, Hammerstein drafted an initial treatment for a ballet that he called “bizarre, imaginative and amusing, never heavy.” It included some expressionistic moments, such as Aunt Eller as a circus rider in pink tights and Jud dancing in a costume made of knot holes. The treatment was largely focused on the rivalry between Jud and Curly (which, to be fair, the audience already had experienced). The scenario was indeed “imaginative”—maybe too much so; it would certainly have sent the audience out for intermission on a high note.
Here’s where Rodgers & Hammerstein were fortuitous in their collaborators. Agnes de Mille, a choreographer with a rigorous penchant for storytelling making her Broadway musical debut with Oklahoma!, summoned up her courage (and psychological acumen) and persuaded Hammerstein that a serious dream ballet that focused on Laurey and explored her conflicted subconscious would not only be dramatically powerful but would carry the narrative forward by going inside the lead character’s psyche. This proved not only stunning to watch but ended the first act on a question mark – perhaps not conducive to a good mood, but always a provocative way to get an audience to return to their seats after intermission.
The creative team was guided by an esteemed strong-willed Armenian director named Rouben Mamoulian, who had not only directed Porgy and Bess on stage, but a groundbreaking musical film by Rodgers and Hart, Love Me Tonight, back in 1932. Mamoulian proved to be a tortured referee in the contest between musical comedy convention and the demands of narrative. On one hand, he was a natural showman and wanted to make sure the second act ended with a “bang.” However, his several attempts to amp up the proceedings during tryouts came to naught: a display of fancy rope tricks as a specialty act during Alfred Drake and Joan Roberts’s (Curly and Laurey) rendition of “Oklahoma” nearly resulted in their getting decapitated and an attempt to release a flurry of pigeons at the conclusion of the final wedding party was a disaster; they flew into the rafters of Boston’s Colonial Theater and were never convinced to come back down.
Still, when all was said and done, Mamoulian was not one to waste an audience’s time. Rodgers and Hammerstein had added a second act duet for Curly and Laurey entitled “Boys and Girls Like You and Me,” but the song itself (though lovely) was so dramatically inert that the director tied himself in pretzels trying to stage it in a compelling fashion. Declaring that any further work on it would send him to an insane asylum, he asked that it be cut. Rodgers and Hammerstein obliged and inserted a short reprise of “People Will Say We’re in Love” and the second act went on its merry and expedient way.
Which brings us to George Church and his second-act tap specialty. De Mille was a dynamo as a choreographer, providing not only moments of engaging narrative, but also some spectacular moments that featured members of her ensemble. The “Dream Ballet” showcased a few of them, as did “The Farmer and the Cowman.” By the time Oklahoma! reached its New Haven tryout, the performance of the title number was built around a dynamic tap-dancing specialty solo performed in the middle of the song by dancer George Church (he also portrayed Jud in the “Dream Ballet”). Church’s solo was such a big deal that he was given his own credit line in the program. New Haven audiences ate it up; it stopped the show. But that was the problem and that’s where Oklahoma! diverged from all its predecessors: the specialty number stopped the show – so out it went. Church was deeply unhappy, understandably, but the creative team knew and trusted that any element which diverted Oklahoma! from the natural conclusions of its narrative became an obstacle, no matter how much the audience enjoyed it. Rodgers, Hammerstein, De Mille, Mamoulian – they put their faith in the hope that the audience would enjoy the story even more.
Successful musicals are created out of an ineffable alchemy: if we knew what made a successful musical and could bottle it, producers would be lined up along Broadway from the West 30s to the West 50s. Groundbreaking musicals are created out of that same alchemy, but with an additional element of trust that its creators know where they are going, that they share the same vision and vocabulary. As Rodgers once said about this kind of show, “the costumes look the way the orchestra sounds.” In the case of the narrative achievement of Oklahoma!, it has to be said that the sheer penury of its producers, the Theatre Guild, weighed heavily on the scale. They simply had no money – not for stars (who would have, perhaps, made their own demands of the creative team), not for elaborate scenic effects or production numbers, not even, really, for all those darned pigeons. Everyone would simply have to work together to tell the story – and the creative team understood that story. As Hammerstein put it in a 1948 letter to a European producer: “Oklahoma! is not an operetta [like] the ‘Beggar’s Student’ or ‘Prince of Pilsen.’ It is not a vehicle for deep-chested baritones to display their voices. It is a small human story, a sketch of characters, and a swift moving symbol of the spirit of the pioneer America about 1900.”
There have been very successful non-narrative musicals since 1943, such as Cats or Chicago (which still knock the audience out with their specialty dance numbers), but Oklahoma! invited its audience for a longer, more compelling journey – it asked its audience to hop inside a shiny little surrey with the fringe on the top and go along for the ride: don’t you wish it would go on forever?
And it has.
Laurence Maslon is the author of The Sound of Music Companion as well as Broadway to Main Street: How Show Tunes Enchanted America. He also is the host of the weekly broadcast/podcast “Broadway to Main Street” on the NPR affiliate WLIW-FM.