Stephen Son­deim’s  “Send in the Clowns,” like the much man­gled “Mem­o­ry” from the much maligned musi­cal CATS, has weath­ered any num­ber of ill-advised inter­pre­ta­tions.

The show-stop­ping solo from 1973’s A Lit­tle Night Music’s ref­er­ence to clowns is not meant to be lit­er­al, but that did­n’t stop the Mup­pet Show from send­ing a trio of them in to back Judy Collins. Frank Sina­tra peeked around on every cho­rus, as if he’d yet to come to grips with the fact that Bozo would­n’t be pop­ping up on cue.

It’s mis­in­ter­pre­ta­tions like these that set com­posers spin­ning in their graves, but Sond­heim is still very much in the game. His approach to musi­cal the­ater con­tin­ues to be exact­ing, no doubt nerve wrack­ing, though the Guild­hall School of Music and Dra­ma stu­dent he’s fine-tun­ing in the video above bears up brave­ly.

She’s a cou­ple of decades too young to play Desiree, whose unsuc­cess­ful attempt to woo an old lover away from his teenage bride occa­sions the song, but no mat­ter. Her adjust­ments show the div­i­dends a close read­ing of the text can pay.

See what you can do with Sond­heim’s advice next time you’re singing in the show­er, the only place pri­vate enough for me to believe I’m doing cred­it to his oeu­vre. Those of us who can’t sing can take heart know­ing that the orig­i­nal Desiree, Gly­nis Johns, could­n’t either, at least by the mas­ter’s usu­al stan­dards. The song’s unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly short phras­ing allowed her to shine as an actress, and deflect­ed from any vocal short­com­ings.

Here are the lyrics. If you need fur­ther inspi­ra­tion, watch Ing­mar Bergman’s Smiles of a Sum­mer Night, on which A Lit­tle Night Music is based.

Those who are more direc­tor than diva may pre­fer to eval­u­ate the per­for­mances below. In my opin­ion, at least one of them mer­its a firm rap on the knuck­les from Mae­stro Sond­heim for exces­sive wal­low­ing. (Hint for those whose time is short: we’ve saved the best for last.)

Judi Dench, Desiree in the 1995 Roy­al Nation­al The­atre revival, per­form­ing at the BBC Proms 2010, in hon­or of Sond­heim’s 80th birth­day.

Glenn Close, anoth­er Night Music vet at Carnegie Hall.

Car­ol Bur­nett stuck close to the spir­it of the orig­i­nal in a non-com­ic sketch for her 1970’s vari­ety show, costar­ring the late Har­vey Kor­man.

Bernadette Peters, the 2010 Broad­way revival’s Desiree, at South­ern Methodist Uni­ver­si­ty. Her accom­pa­nist seems pret­ty hap­py with this per­for­mance. 

Dame Judi again, show­ing us how it’s done, in cos­tume on the edge of a giant red bed, with Lau­rence Gui­t­tard as Fred­erik. Have a han­kie ready at the 3:10 mark.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

James Tay­lor Teach­es You to Play “Car­oli­na in My Mind,” “Fire and Rain” & Oth­er Clas­sics on the Gui­tar

David Lynch Teach­es Louis C.K. How to Host The David Let­ter­man Show

What Books, Movies, Songs & Paint­ings Could Have Entered the Pub­lic Domain on Jan­u­ary 1, 2014?

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the musi­cal­ly ungift­ed Bride of Urine­town. Fol­low her  @AyunHalliday

Yes, you read cor­rect­ly: there exists a piece of the­ater whose pro­duc­tion brought togeth­er three of the most ardent­ly-fol­lowed, icon­o­clas­tic cre­ators of recent decades. First staged in 1990 at Ham­burg’s Thalia The­ater, The Black Rid­er: The Cast­ing of the Mag­ic Bul­lets appeared as the fruit of mul­ti­dis­ci­pli­nary labor from renowned avant-garde direc­tor Robert Wil­son, best known for extra-long-form pro­duc­tions like Ein­stein on the Beach, cre­at­ed with Philip Glass; ragged­ly Amer­i­can singer-song­writer Tom Waits, a musi­cian with no small the­atri­cal bent him­self; and William S. Bur­roughs, writer of Naked Lunch, Junkie, and oth­er texts that have blown away gen­er­a­tions of coun­ter­cul­tur­al­ly inclined read­ing minds. They based their tale of a hap­less young file clerk in love and his fate­ful pact with the dev­il on the Ger­man folk­tale-cum-opera Der Freis­chütz. Hence the work’s pre­miere in Ger­many, and the Ger­man dia­logue in the tele­vi­sion ver­sion of the full pro­duc­tion above.

But wor­ry not, non-Ger­manophones; the Waits-com­posed songs remain in Eng­lish, and as with any­thing direct­ed by Wil­son, you buy the tick­et as much to a strik­ing pure visu­al expe­ri­ence as to any­thing else. You can hear and see more from Waits and Wil­son about what went into The Black Rid­er in the half-hour TV doc­u­men­tary just above. (The nar­ra­tor may speak Ger­man, but every­one else involved speaks Eng­lish.) For a pure musi­cal expe­ri­ence of The Black Rid­er, pull up Waits’ epony­mous album, released in 1993. (See also the boot­leg The Black Rid­er Out­takes.) And now, with twen­ty years’ dis­tance from The Black Rid­er’s Amer­i­can debut, maybe we can put the ques­tion to our­selves of whether it counts as a streak of poor taste or a stroke of artis­tic genius to have Bur­roughs, of all peo­ple, pen his own ver­sion of a sto­ry that — spoil­er alert — ends with the pro­tag­o­nist fat­ed to shoot his own bride.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John­ny Depp: A Voom Por­trait by Robert Wil­son

Watch Big Time, the Con­cert Film Cap­tur­ing Tom Waits on His Best Tour Ever (1988)

William S. Bur­roughs Explains What Artists & Cre­ative Thinkers Do for Human­i­ty: From Galileo to Cézanne and James Joyce

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.