Note by Tom Jones

I have never been much of an opera fan. For one thing, I was never exposed to it when I was young, not even at the University of Texas, where the Music Department and the Drama Department were sworn enemies. It was too expensive for me to attend when I arrived in New York. And despite my appreciation of the rich music and the sumptuous settings, I missed hearing and understanding the words. I missed the “magic” of the words. I missed the power and the nuance that words joined with music are capable of producing. So it came as a surprise to me when, sometime in the early eighties, I happened to see a bit of an opera being broadcast on Public Television. I was channel surfing and this “bit” caught my eye. I lingered to look, and the next “bit” was even better. What a great piece of staging, I thought. And how brilliant the camera work. And how sparkling the music. True, it wasn’t in English, but it didn’t seem to matter. I thought to myself “what a wonderful experience,” and then, busy with my life and work, I promptly forgot about it.

But then it happened again. Same time. Same place. “Great Performances” I think it must have been. Totally unplanned, I happened to catch another opera which grabbed and held me. The first had been one of the lush 19th century Italian pieces. This second was from a much earlier period, probably a century or more before, which the director had managed to re-imagine in a totally new and enchanting way. As before, I watched to the end. But unlike before, I made sure to find the name of the man who had created it. Jean-Pierre Ponnelle. And to my surprise, he had done the first one as well. I thought to myself: “I have to find out more about him. And I have to show this to Harvey.”

So - that’s how it began. I went to the gift shop of the Metropolitan Opera and purchased a number of videos of operas staged by Monsieur Ponnelle in various opera houses around the world. They were terrific. All of them. He had designed the sets and he had done the staging and he had directed the films. One of the things that impressed me was the exciting way the cutting of the film fit in with the music. (I learned later that he laid out each screenplay to the score so that all the camera moves were dictated by the music.)

Harvey was equally enthusiastic and we both agreed: this was the man to make a movie of THE FANTASTICKS. We had been approached by various Hollywood studios for a number of years, but had never found the right person with the right “vision.” THE FANTASTICKS is uniquely a stage piece. With its cardboard moon and its scattered “snow” confetti and its constant direct address to the audience, it is the antithesis of the typical Hollywood musical. But we were both convinced that Jean-Pierre Ponnelle would be able to help us “break it open” in cinematic terms without losing the make-believe magic of the stage version.

By a stroke of luck, he happened to be in New York staging a Mozart opera at the Met. Our lawyer was able to contact him and set up a meeting. But first he agreed to go down to the tiny little Sulllivan Street Playhouse, where THE FANTASTICKS had been running for twenty some-odd years, and see if it interested him at all. He did. It did. Our meeting took place. And just like it is supposed to happen in the movies, he got it. He completely understood. And he was wildly excited by the challenge and the possibilities. He wanted to open the film at the Sullivan Street Playhouse with the Overture played by our pianist and harpist, then as the show progressed he wanted to gradually add more musicians and scenic elements as we move, not to “reality” per se, but a theatrical reality which is part real and part illusion.

And that brings me to the point. As Harvey, Jean-Pierre and I discussed and planned, Harvey began doing drawings and making notes of how it all might work. The result are these extraordinary “film scenery notes.” I think you will see how exciting it could have been, but, alas, it was not to be. Jean-Pierre’s film producers who financed his opera work were not interested in an Off- Broadway musical. And Paramount Pictures was not interested in an opera director. As we struggled and searched for alternate funding, time ticked and then, tragically, Jean-Pierre died of a heart attack, aged 56, while staging an opera in Europe. Although we were never able to make the film we envisioned, the film you see in these drawings, we did have a chance later on, in a major USA tour of the show starring Robert Goulet, to incorporate many of the scenic effects shown here. And yes, they did work.