Have you been in touch with James Lapine and Stephen Sondheim since jumping back in?
CZ: I wrote [Sondheim] an email and said, “There’s a lot of dancing. The Mysterious Man is dancing.” He wrote me back and said, “The Mysterious Man doesn’t dance.” I said, “He does in this production.”
“I had a superstition that I never turned off the light to my dressing room until the show was over. We taped three nights in a row, and after the last taping, the light was off when I got back to my dressing room and I turned it on and Stephen Sondheim was sitting there in my dressing room. He said, ‘I think you’ll understand. It never gets better than this. This is like the greatest night we might ever have.’”
“When we do something, it affects somebody else. And, at the time [of the original], we were all having children. My kids were young, and James had a child that was young, and I think that a lot of the sensibility of the show had to do with the concept of ‘What was our responsibility to our children?’ That’s always stuck with me, and the idea that there’s always an argument [about] whether the path is straight — or if there is a path. The Baker says, ‘There is no path.’ Other people say, ‘The path is straight,’ and I think I’ve always come away thinking that everybody has to find their own path.”