BWW Reviews: FOSSE by Sam Wasson

I figure I met Bob Fosse around page 433 of Sam Wasson's new biography, Fosse. I was a grad student, researching the development of the director-choreographer. I wrote to a number of men, requesting interviews, but only Fosse responded in the affirmative. So one spring day I found myself sitting in his apartment on West 58th Street. It was the week before the Tony Awards, when Chicago would be all but forgotten in the wake of the A Chorus Line juggernaut. I don't remember much of what we discussed, but despite the famous ego on display, I was surprised he took the time to meet with me.

Wasson's massive 723-page dissection of one of the premiere talents of musical theatre is excessive, entertaining and exhausting. The length (of which 130 pages is devoted to bibliography and footnotes) is only the most obvious reason. Mostly, it's the subject, Fosse himself, who could easily be described in the same way.

It's no accident that Wasson peppers his book with psychological explanations for Fosse's addictions: sex, prescription and illegal drugs, alcohol, smoking, work. It's not fair or accurate to simply write off those issues as the embodiment of an artist's insecurities. There was much more at work here, much of it dark and disturbing. And that's what makes this such a compelling read.

Would Fosse have benefitted from present-day psychotherapy? It's hard to say. His demons appeared at an early age and he wasn't always willing to let go of them. But what struck me most was his profound loneliness.

He would call members of his dance corps in the middle of the night, just to talk, to convince them to come to his hotel room or apartment. And while sex was the ultimate result, it was not the goal: the goal was to assuage the loneliness that weighs so heavily in the night.

Despite the sometimes cruel treatment they received from Fosse, his wives, lovers, dancers and friends mostly remained fiercely devoted to him. Even if he argued with you, embarrassed you, shunned you, that devotion was likely to continue. His relationships were the definition of "love/hate".

I thought I knew a lot about Fosse, but Wasson digs deep. Fosse didn't work himself to death because he had a lot to say, though he did. He was always trying to prove that he was good enough. Even after dozens of awards for dancing, choreography and directing, he never felt happy for very long.

Again, this is beyond the stereotypical "looking for the next challenge". This is the story of a man who was violated by the burlesque strippers his parents should've protected him from; the story of a man who was often out of step with the popular culture; the story of a brilliant man who constantly compared himself to others and came up short.

This is not to condemn Wasson's book as unnecessarily dark or depressing (though at times I found it melodramatic). It accurately portrays the demons in Fosse's life. But it also takes us along for the history of musical theatre.

Fosse was attracted to talent: both on and off-stage, and his career reached from the end of vaudeville and burlesque to the advent of large-scale, musical extravaganzas. I could name drop hundreds of names and dozens of shows, but I will only name the one that is decidedly un-musical: Paddy Chayefsky. Their long friendship was arguably the most important relationship of his adult life. That revelation was perhaps the most surprising one in a book dense with anecdotes and history.

Although at first I was uncomfortable with Wasson's enthusiastic writing, once I realized it mirrored his subject, I was hooked. You will be, too. If you read only one theatre book this year, make it Fosse.

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