Send in the Clowns
The Transmutation of Loss
into Tragic Beauty
“History as it actually occurs is not quite the whole of history, for it leaves out of account the hopes that never materialised,
— Frances A. Yates, Ideas and Ideals in the North European Renaissance (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984)
What the British historian Frances Yates observed of social history is equally true of individual history. As individuals we carry within our memories the ontological weight of missed opportunities and unrealized potentials. Or, to be more specific, the feelings that accompany them. We prehend our losses.
These missed possibilities are not mere absences. They are energetic ingredients in the texture of memory, haunting and informing. They are felt through what Whitehead calls “experience in the mode of causal efficacy." We respond to them with sadness, irony, or sometimes a tender acceptance—much like Desirée Armfeldt in A Little Night Music when she sings “Send in the Clowns.” This tender acceptance includes resignation, a touch of humor, and, in the case of Desirée, a sense of the farcical. It is one kind of tragic beauty.
Desirée is an aging actress who has spent her life on the stage, moving from affair to affair while harboring a deep, unfulfilled love for Fredrik Egerman, a lawyer she once dated. When she finally realizes she wants a settled life and love with Fredrik, she discovers he has remarried. The timing—so often in life—is tragically wrong.
Near the end of Act II, Desirée sings “Send in the Clowns.” The song is not about circus clowns but about the sorrow of missed chances—the “clowns” standing for the foolishness of human behavior and the irony of fate. In traditional theater, “send in the clowns” was a stage direction to distract the audience when a performance faltered. Here, Desirée uses it both bitterly and tenderly: “Send in the clowns” means, in effect, “bring on the fools”—for the scene, and perhaps life itself, has turned into a bittersweet comedy.
Few performances express this poignancy more fully than Judi Dench’s below. In her voice, irony and tenderness coexist. The performance shows how one can inhabit the ache of missed possibilities without collapsing into despair. In Whiteheadian terms, Dench enacts a transmutation of loss into bittersweet beauty, where emotion itself becomes creative. Not happy, but bittersweet: emotion both pleasant and sad.
In Whiteheadian terms, the two emotions felt together, juxtaposed with one another, form an aesthetic whole: a "contrast." Transmutation is the creative process of taking what is given to experience from the past, whatever it is, and creating contrasts, which give zest to life even amid pain. Sometimes what is given is one's own foolishness. one's own mistakes, the result of one's own choices. Sometimes the farces of one's own making.
— Frances A. Yates, Ideas and Ideals in the North European Renaissance (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984)
What the British historian Frances Yates observed of social history is equally true of individual history. As individuals we carry within our memories the ontological weight of missed opportunities and unrealized potentials. Or, to be more specific, the feelings that accompany them. We prehend our losses.
These missed possibilities are not mere absences. They are energetic ingredients in the texture of memory, haunting and informing. They are felt through what Whitehead calls “experience in the mode of causal efficacy." We respond to them with sadness, irony, or sometimes a tender acceptance—much like Desirée Armfeldt in A Little Night Music when she sings “Send in the Clowns.” This tender acceptance includes resignation, a touch of humor, and, in the case of Desirée, a sense of the farcical. It is one kind of tragic beauty.
Desirée is an aging actress who has spent her life on the stage, moving from affair to affair while harboring a deep, unfulfilled love for Fredrik Egerman, a lawyer she once dated. When she finally realizes she wants a settled life and love with Fredrik, she discovers he has remarried. The timing—so often in life—is tragically wrong.
Near the end of Act II, Desirée sings “Send in the Clowns.” The song is not about circus clowns but about the sorrow of missed chances—the “clowns” standing for the foolishness of human behavior and the irony of fate. In traditional theater, “send in the clowns” was a stage direction to distract the audience when a performance faltered. Here, Desirée uses it both bitterly and tenderly: “Send in the clowns” means, in effect, “bring on the fools”—for the scene, and perhaps life itself, has turned into a bittersweet comedy.
Few performances express this poignancy more fully than Judi Dench’s below. In her voice, irony and tenderness coexist. The performance shows how one can inhabit the ache of missed possibilities without collapsing into despair. In Whiteheadian terms, Dench enacts a transmutation of loss into bittersweet beauty, where emotion itself becomes creative. Not happy, but bittersweet: emotion both pleasant and sad.
In Whiteheadian terms, the two emotions felt together, juxtaposed with one another, form an aesthetic whole: a "contrast." Transmutation is the creative process of taking what is given to experience from the past, whatever it is, and creating contrasts, which give zest to life even amid pain. Sometimes what is given is one's own foolishness. one's own mistakes, the result of one's own choices. Sometimes the farces of one's own making.
Judi Dench
The Emotional Impact
of Send in the Clowns
"Stephen Sondheim's song, Send In the Clowns, from the musical 'A Little Night Music' was written late in rehearsals for the actress Glynis Johns, playing the part of Desiree. A song of regret and anger, the part has famously been played by Judi Dench, and the song became an independent hit, sung by Judy Collins, Shirley Bassey and Barbra Streisand. Hannah Waddingham played the youngest ever Desiree in Trevor Nunn's production, and used her memories of an unhappy relationship to inspire her performance. Series exploring famous pieces of music and their emotional appeal."
Producer: Sara Conkey.
First broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in September 2010.
Producer: Sara Conkey.
First broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in September 2010.
Lyrics
Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.