Last month, Mr. Sondheim, 91, died suddenly at home in Roxbury, Conn., just as he was about to come to New York to be celebrated at the openings of highly anticipated makeovers of two of his milestone collaborations: “West Side Story,” a movie directed by Steven Spielberg, and “Company,” the acidic musical about a terminally ambivalent Manhattan singleton.
In this production, Bobby morphs into Bobbie, a woman whose friends want her to settle down, even though they concede marriage is a mixed bag.
The role of the salty, hard-drinking Joanne was originated in 1970 by the salty, hard-drinking Elaine Stritch, a Sondheim pal.
The small hotel is decorated as a homage to Broadway, with costumes and pictures from shows, so naturally we found a photo of Ms. LuPone that happened to be on the wall of our ersatz bar, a shot of her as Mrs.
In her dressing room, Ms. LuPone keeps a typewritten note sent to her before the pandemic hit by Mr. Sondheim, who was clearly growing more sentimental: “Every now and then I’m brought up short by realizing what a wonderful singer you are.
“I just was so flummoxed by it,” she said, still referring to the composer in the present tense.
“I said in my head, ‘If it was anyone with less experience than me, they would have turned in their equity card,’” she said.
It’s a challenge to interpret the lyrics as he intended them with depth,” she said with understatement.
I’ve got stuff in my scrapbook, the mean stuff and good stuff.” She saves everything, even the hate mail she got after she said she would refuse to perform if Donald Trump came to a show.
“Patti has this insane, volcanic power within her body to sing like that,” Mr. Murphy said.
Her friend Joe Mantello, the acclaimed Broadway director and actor who worked with her in “Hollywood,” talked about her duality: “She understands that she’s a great star, she’s a legend.
“I made a pact with the devil because, believe me, I’ve abused it,” she said.
At the preview, the audience was primed to see their Patti again.
“Musicals are treacherous animals,” Ms. LuPone said, talking about all the backstage drama and sniping.
“I went through emotional abuse because it was the thing to do to get a performance out of somebody,” she recalled.
When they were on the road doing a concert tour, she once came in with a black eye.
When I got out of Juilliard and got into the professional world, there was some weird behavior.
“It was like a battlefield from my dressing room past the stage management to the stage,” she said.
“You’ll never find a better partner to be with onstage, she’s just absolute magic,” Mr. Patinkin said.
“Patti is so sensitive, she sings like a child, very truthfully.
“I have scars,” she mused.
It’s like, ‘Wait a minute, you want to know why I was difficult?’ No, it’s just, ‘You were difficult so you’re on the Life’s Too Short list.’ I’m saying this for every woman and guy that goes through that.
“There’s no more bad guys left in the world,” she said with a sly smile.
In 1994, when Andrew Lloyd Webber fired her and replaced her with Glenn Close, she wrote in her memoir, “I took batting practice in my dressing room with a floor lamp.
After decades of trading insults, she says simply that Mr. Lloyd Webber is “a sad sack.” Her irritation at Ms. Close still simmers.
“That’s when she had that body, in that period when she was staggeringly beautiful,” Ms. LuPone said.
He understands what this is that I have to do, and he supports it.” They have a son named Josh, 31, a filmmaker.
I started singing the line “Does anyone still wear a hat?” and I looked straight at Elaine, who had a hat on, to pay homage.
He was tough and scary.
Can I tell you something about Barbara and George? I did a performance at the East Wing when they were in the White House.