Sadder But Wiser Girl

I watched The Music Man for the first time ever last year, and have now watched it maybe 10 times since. Maybe not quite that many times. But it’s close. The whole story fills my stupid, sappy, sentimental heart with joy. I love musicals, and there are a particular few that I love so much I can watch them repeatedly and never tire of them. Hello Dolly!  Mamma Mia!  Annie. However, The Music Man hits a different chord. Something in this story gets to me—if I may be a bit dramatic—deep within my soul.

To be clear, it is campy Americana in its purest form. Even at the play’s inception in 1957, some considered it corny…But then I’ve always been a colossal cheeseball. Yet, beyond its cheesy wholesomeness, there are layers to this Vidalia. Transformation and the transformative power of music feature prominently throughout. Acceptance. Seeing the good in people who aren’t perfect. There are so many moments so poignant they bring me to tears. Granted—I cry much more easily these days than I ever used to. Some of that you can blame on my fragile constitution of the past year, but I think a lot of it you can chalk up to the fact that if you live long enough, you appreciate the profundity of a lot of little moments. I sniffle when Harold takes the town troublemaker Tommy under his wing. I blubber at the elation Winthrop shows as the Wells Fargo wagon trundles down Main Street with his cornet in tow (not unlike my excitement and anticipation waiting for the Amazon truck to arrive with my latest order). I bawl every time I hear “Till There was You.” I weep at the sight of little Winthrop’s tear-streaked face when he learns that his hero is actually a liar and a fraud.

There have been a rare few times in life wherein I experienced such an inexplicably strong emotional reaction to something upon encountering it, that its profound effect doesn’t immediately make sense to me…It’s times like this I get the feeling the universe is trying to tell me something. And that I need to figure it out. So, what is it about this story that reduces Amanda to a puddle of snot and sentimentality?

Is it Harold’s redemption arc?

I am a sucker for a good redemption arc. It’s clear from the first that Harold enjoys a good challenge. He picked River City as his target at the beginning of the story because it was implied the people of Iowa would not be an easy sell for the likes of a con man like him. Upon hearing this, Harold grins gleefully and hops off the train, deciding to “give Iowa a try.” He works hard to ingratiate himself to the townsfolk, especially Marian the Librarian, who initially is having none of it. Instead of being deterred by her standoffishness, her stubbornness seems to only spur him on. There are times he looks almost delighted by her defiance, and he admits as much later; that a woman in touch with her skeptical, cynical side actually turns him on. Sure, his initial flirting is designed to win her over so she doesn’t spill the beans on him to everyone else, but he genuinely starts to fall in love with her, and she with him, once she notes all the good he has done for the people through his machinations. The same traits that put off others to Marian are endearing to him, and she forgives him for his attempted fraud when she starts to see all the good that’s come from it. They each help the other soften up and be the best version of themselves. Meanwhile, he does so much towards whipping the townspeople into a frenzy over the band that he gets caught up in the excitement himself, as we see him near the end conducting an imaginary band reflected in the water by the footbridge, only to remember that he doesn’t really know how to conduct a musical troupe…he pauses to reflect on this and in that moment we see him experience guilt/shame and snap the “baton” he was holding in frustration. When Marian reveals minutes later that she’s known he’s a fraud since 3 days after he arrived in town and still loves him for everything he’s done, he looks flabbergasted. Speaking from personal experience, when someone treats you better than you believe you deserve (particularly if it’s someone you’ve wronged), that shit changes you. I think in that moment when Marian shows him grace, he is so touched by it he wants to be a better man. At this point, the transformation is complete. His love for Marian, and his fondness for the friends he’s made along the way (including little Winthrop, troublemaker Tommy who he took under his wing upon arrival, etc.) have reeled him in. He has no desire to leave, and would rather face the music of the angry mob than continue living a lie. He comes clean to a tearful Winthrop because he respects his newfound family too much to continue leading them on. In the end, he saves the soul of the town, and the town and its inhabitants save him.

The positive influence even a bad egg can have on a whole town?

Everywhere he goes, Harold spreads cheer, excitement, and positivity, while bringing people together. Granted, half the time he entices someone into a song or dance, he’s doing it to distract them from asking about his credentials, but, you know…

By the time he’s spent a month in River City, he’s helped spawn the creation of a boy’s band, a ladies dance troupe, and a barbershop quartet.

He stands up for town troublemaker Tommy Djilas several times, makes him his stand-in for the boys’ band, and helps him win over the mayor’s daughter. It certainly wasn’t necessary—Harold could just have easily distanced himself from Tommy to avoid association with someone who wasn’t popular in town, but instead Harold takes responsibility for the boy. I have a theory that Harold sees a bit of himself in Tommy, and that’s why he took to him so quickly.

And when the Wells Fargo wagon shows up, who does Harold run up to first to present with his instrument but the kid most in need of cheering up at the story’s start?

He even helps the old biddies in town with their chores while he runs his sales pitch. Any man who is willing to help with hanging laundry and shelling peas can get it, I say.

The way introducing music to the masses improves everyone’s lives?

I have always asserted there’s nothing that can’t be improved by a good song and dance. There is a quote I’ve loved forever and had framed on my dresser since childhood:

“The problem isn’t that people in musicals start singing and dancing. The problem is that we don’t.”

I can’t give this quote proper credit, but Harold would seem to feel the same way about it, as indicated in my next point:

Is it in the moment when Harold reveals “I always think there’s a band, kid”?

For a flim-flamming, 2-bit thimble-rigger who doesn’t know one note from another—and certainly can’t play an instrument himself—this is clearly a man who genuinely loves music. He embodies the spirit of song and dance.

And he sure as shit loves every second of leading the town’s children in song and dance, and leading the marching band through town.

Is it because he chooses to stay in the end, when he could just as easily leave?

I’ve mentioned before I’ve said more goodbyes and seen more endings than I care to in my previous post, Who Wants to Live Forever. I have met many amazing people who have stayed for a season and then drifted away. I love the idea of a one-of-a-kind person coming into your life and sticking around for good. And from Marian’s perspective: knowing a guy is changing all his plans because of you? Priceless.

Or, perhaps the story’s charm merely lies in how adorable young Ron Howard is. Sweet, [illegitimate?] summer child.  

I may never figure this out definitively, but I sure have enjoyed trying.