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In the 1960s, the book musical still dominated; the story’s structure took precedence and songs enhanced the emotional aspect of the story. Different kinds of stories also appeared and more musicals featured a woman as a central character rather than only as part of a heterosexual couple. This chapter focuses on 1960s musicals that featured women on stage alone in song and dance, but that weren’t sure whether to celebrate them or to punish them. It is organized around the social phenomenon of the 1960s Single Girl in Sweet Charity, Cabaret, Hello, Dolly!, Mame, Oliver!, and Man of La Mancha represent that figure (or a middle-aged version of her) on the Broadway musical stage. This chapter focuses on the convention of dance and movement and asks how those elements at once express anxiety about the single woman and greatly empower her.

“My business is simple,” said Abdul Wahid. “I . . . I . . . P.” He paused. I waited. “Is . . . It . . . Possible.” As he said the words, Abdul Wahid drew in the air a grand billboard for his tutoring company. He paused once again for effect. “Is what possible?” I asked, finally. “Anything. Everything.” And then he added: “It is a cun-sept.” Abdul Wahid was very fond of concepts. Abdul—as he insisted I call him—was the son of a small dhaba owner in Kolkata. Ambitious, he didn’t want to run a loss-making, hole-in-the-wall restaurant like his father, dishing out dal-roti-sabzi to customers who were rude and never tipped. He didn’t want to do the same things every single day. Abdul wanted more. He wanted to be his own man. An entrepreneur. He had dreams that went beyond his father’s street. With the help of his smartphone, Abdul had turned himself into an English-speaking teacher-CEO. And now, with his tutoring company IIP, he wanted to transform education in India. Still, it was clear to me that the past clung to Abdul. He was only twenty-five, but he dressed like a much older man, in a crisply starched white shirt and pleated dark khakis. His eyes were almost comically enlarged by his old-fashioned rimless spectacles. When he moved, he gave off a faint aroma of cardamom; he carried pods in his trouser pocket, just as his father and his grandfather before him. Abdul had a vision for tutoring in India. “I want to make education like a gaming platform. Indian teachers think in 2-D. I want to make it like a planetarium experience. I want kids to see and feel projectile motion. Is it possible? Yes, it is.” Money was scarce in Abdul’s childhood. Back then, his dreams were dull, black-and-white, 2-D, standard definition 4-by-3. His father sent him away to a boarding school in a town in neighboring Bihar. Abdul found the system of rote learning a bore; his teachers were disinterested, playing truant more than he did.

This chapter presents a textual analysis of SAW (2004). The look of the SAW film is grimily distinctive; in contrast to the gloss that commercial horror often employs, SAW appears grotty and rancid. The glowing textures and the grimy mise-en-scène create a world that is hyper-real, yet visually compelling. The roots of the film's look would seem to lie within the gorgeous cinematography of 1980s Italian horror. SAW's day-glo chiaroscuro is expressive of the characters' broken subconscious; tenebrous psychological shadows that suggest shady misdeeds and guilt. Meanwhile, SAW's score is composed of incessant white noise; urgent metal throbs, scraping crescendos, empty rises. It is a soundscape that compliments the threatening atmospheres and urban backstages of the SAW universe. The main musical theme of SAW is the incidental score, 'Hello Zepp', a semi-classical piece that uses swelling strings and peaking synths to intense effect. 'Hello Zepp' is used within all of the subsequent SAW films to communicate the final victories of Jigsaw's creed, and also as part of the marketing campaign. With its iconography of harsh reverberations, the theme locates the film within the horror genre, while its swells and strings empower the narrative, adding grandeur to the film's squalor.

This chapter presents an account of the seven-year challenge to complete a statue honoring Louis Armstrong, who is considered as the first and greatest celebrity of jazz. It discusses the fund that was established in New Orleans, and examines Ned Brundage's article where he expressed the joys and anguish connected with the concert production of “Hello Louis!”, as well as the efforts to complete the Statue Fund. The chapter also discusses Bing Crosby's contribution to the fund, and the unveiling of the Louis Armstrong statue on July 4, 1976.

This chapter describes the musicals of the 1960s, including Frank Loesser's How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (1961), Mame (1966), A Funny Thing Happened on the Way To the Forum (1962), and Charles Strouse and Lee Adams' Golden Boy (1964). It discusses how the rise of the director-choreographer enabled that individual to conceive a work uniquely, “authoring” how it would look and sound as if he were writing it. Two notable superproductions validate the High Maestro's eminence: Hello, Dolly! and Fiddler on the Roof.

This chapter focuses on the determination of American composer and lyricist Jerry Herman to succeed despite the failure of Parade, highlighting the success of his musical Milk and Honey, which opened in November 1961 and was his Broadway debut as a composer-lyricist. It also mentions that Milk and Honey was nominated for a Tony Award as Best Musical and discusses the success of the 1964 musical Hello Dolly!.

This chapter focuses on the challenges in the preparation for the production of Jerry Herman's musical Hello, Dolly!. It provides background information on producer David Merrick and discusses his problems with the casting for the musical after some stars including Ethel Merman declined to play the lead role. The chapter considers some of the proposed directors for the musical and the eventual selection of Gower Champion. It also mentions that the musical was initially titled Dolly: A Damned Exasperating Woman.

Chapter ten begins with the early development and production of Paint Your Wagon, Paramount’s expensive treatment of a 1951 Lerner and Loewe Broadway musical. It would be loosely adapted for the screen, produced by Alan Jay Lerner and directed by Joshua (Camelot) Logan. Despite singing demands, three non-musical stars were cast: Lee Marvin, Clint Eastwood, and Jean Seberg. Producers faced the logistical challenge of building a full-sized town that had to collapse on cue as part of the movie’s rousing finale. Location shooting in rural Oregon proved to be costly, contentious, and prolonged. Fox’s Hello, Dolly! faced its own problems with two stars (Barbra Streisand and Walter Matthau) who detested each other. Turf wars broke out between costumer, choreographer, and set designer, with director Gene Kelly unable to successfully mediate. It was, by all accounts, a rancorous shoot, complicated by the logistically hellish “Before the Parade Passes By” magnum production number.

This chapter finishes 20th Century-Fox’s participation in roadshow musicals. After Doctor Dolittle and Star!, the studio was nervous about their colossal Hello, Dolly! being prepared for release in late 1969. With expense overruns and a delayed release due to the continued success of the stage production, it was increasingly unlikely to earn a profit. Dolly! did not receive critical approval, but it premiered to strong business. As with the other post-Sound of Music roadshow musicals at Fox, it lost money, while the “youthquake” was drawn to low budget films such as Easy Rider and M*A*S*H. Studio chief Darryl Zanuck was pressured to fire his son Richard. He did so, and then was gently eased out of responsibilities by the studio’s board of trustees. The future of the studio was uncertain, but it would not include any more roadshow musicals.

This chapter introduces Fox’s next big roadshow musical project: Star!, a biographical film based on the life of English actress Gertrude Lawrence. It was tailor-made for Julie Andrews and was to reunite her with The Sound of Music’s producer Saul Chaplin and director Robert Wise. Star! had costly overruns during its long production, but Fox was confident it would be a huge hit. At Columbia, another biopic was being made, this one of American comedienne Fanny Brice. The project was Funny Girl, and it had been a Broadway triumph for young Barbra Streisand. She was signed for the film version for $1 million. Columbia secured William Wyler, a director with an unimpeachable record of guiding actresses to memorable performances. The third section of this chapter covers the stage musical Hello, Dolly! starring Carol Channing. When Fox bought the film rights, Channing was passed over for Barbra Streisand in the title role. This create enormous controversy not only because of Channing’s association with the role, but because Streisand was considerably younger than the character.

The decade of the 1960s provided the last fertile commercial field for pop singers interpreting Broadway material. Songs from incipient Broadway scores were introduced to America far ahead of their debuts on the New York stage; likewise, there was an important cadre of pop singers who were associated with Broadway material: Tony Bennett, Bobby Darin, Louis Armstrong, to name a few. Even more compellingly, there were pop singers who also performed to acclaim on Broadway: Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gormé, Robert Goulet, Sammy Davis, Jr., and Barbra Streisand. The symbiotic relationship between their stage and pop material would invigorate the musical scene. At the same time, rock and roll ascended the cultural ladder and elbowed show music out of the express lane of popular music. Throughout the 1960s, the two genres coexisted in a tenuous détente, but by the end of the decade, Broadway music had to face the specter of cultural irrelevance.

This chapter considers the legal and institutional implications that different 19th-century authors derived from the theory on constituent power and that, in many cases, were reflected in actual constitutional practice. Part I briefly examines the general historical context in which the works discussed in the chapter were written. Part II considers the constitutional theories of a group of authors who focused on the exclusive character of the nation’s constituent power. Theirs were theories that largely rejected the English tradition of parliamentary sovereignty, that is, of a parliament able to engage in both constituted and constituent activity. Importantly, these conceptions were developed at a time when it was not uncommon for written constitutions to lack amendment rules. Part III considers the work of a group of authors who, while largely operating under the Sieyèsian ‘constituent power of the nation’ approach, attempted to provide a more concrete form to ‘the nation’ without fully embracing Rousseau’s system of popular sovereignty. Finally, Part IV examines the work of authors who approach the theory of constituent power from a natural law perspective.

A student of Ross McElwee’s and Robb Moss’s at Harvard, Davenport discusses her history as a personal documentary filmmaker influenced not only by McElwee (she appears in and was an assistant editor on McElwee’s Six O’Clock News) and Moss, but by avant-garde filmmaker, Peter Hutton. Her first important film, Hello Photo (1995), for which she spent months in filming in India, was funded by Robert Gardner. If her early films are a feminine/feminist version of McElwee’s personal documentaries, her Operation Filmmaker is a breakthrough work in revealing the struggles between a filmmaker and her subject, a young Iraqi would-be filmmaker. This is Davenport’s first extensive interview, and it covers Hello Photo and the series of films that have followed it, including Always a Bridesmaid (2000) and Parallel Lines (2003).

Burton places Visions de l’Amen in the context of Catholic writers, not only of Ernest Hello himself, but also of men such as Ernest Renan, Henri Lacordaire, Paul Claudel, Charles Péguy, and, possibly, Teilhard de Chardin. In the matter of the ‘abyss’, a crucial Hellovian concept, the distinction is clearly made between the nether abyss and the upper abyss: to quote Hello, ‘it is necessary that the nether abyss reveal death in its depths, in order that the upper abyss reveal life in its heights.’ In discussing this concept, Burton touches on a question already considered earlier in the book, namely Messiaen’s self-definition as a ‘musicien de joie’ and the problems he faced in interpreting pain and suffering. Burton, of course, wrote this chapter before the publication of Stephen Schloesser’s Visions of Amen in 2014, and the two texts can be compared with profit.

How does Drake manage to be the most successful pop artist of the twenty-first century when most of his choruses do not even use perfect rhymes? The answer, as discussed in Chapter 8, is that in modern pop the melody and rhythm of a lyrical line are often more important than the song’s poetry. As Chance the Rapper has said, “Sometimes the truth don’t rhyme.” “God’s Plan” is a perfect example of this maxim, because its success is not predicated on lyrical accuracy but on Drake’s ability to repeat musical motifs again and again until they imprint on listeners’ minds; with just enough variation so that they never get boring. Drake shows that in contemporary pop, a variety of rhymes is more important than strict adherence to a single scheme.

This chapter describes Cab Calloway's solo career from 1974 until 1978. In the 1970s, he joined forces with Anita O'Day, Ray Eberle's orchestra, and a jazz group led by Ray McKinley at Pasadena Civic Auditorium, to “recreate the sounds of the 40s.” During his run in Hello, Dolly! he took time out to visit the studios and record an album covering not only the best known songs from that show but those from Cabaret and Mame as well. His album The Hi-De-Ho Man spanned his work for that label from the mid-1930s to 1947.