Welcome to a new Musical Theatre Monday! This month, I’m spotlighting another favorite score that was first heard in the 1950s — it’s Leonard Bernstein’s Candide (1956), based on Voltaire’s novella of the same name, initially adapted with a book by Lillian Hellman and lyrics (mostly) by Richard Wilbur. I say “initially” because this musical has had a tortured history, with constant tweaks and several major rewrites that (out of legal necessity) abandoned Hellman’s original text entirely, such that almost every new production of Bernstein’s Candide has been unique. Oh, yes, the composer himself formally crafted a would-be definitive version in the 1980s — which was recorded — but that’s not stopped the tinkering, inevitably begging the question: what is the best of all possible Candides? Does it even exist?

I think the answer to that second question is probably no, it doesn’t. For instance, Hellman’s original 1956 script is dramatically well-crafted, but it’s not the best narrative reflection of Voltaire’s story or thesis. And while the original cast album is still tops in terms of the score on record — those orchestrations and magnificent voices, WOW! — I do think a few songs that were added/reinstated to the 1973 revisal helmed by director Hal Prince (including some with new lyrics contributed by Stephen Sondheim) are helpful. However, I’m not crazy about that production’s trivializing dramatic framing (it fights the score). Conversely, Bernstein’s definitive version, which he refined throughout the 1980s, tends to be too grand, veering more towards opera, with an overstuffed narrative and musical quality. Changes from there — including an entirely new book for the 1999 London revival — often make dramatic sense for Voltaire’s ambitions, sometimes even getting close to what may also be a most perfect tunestack, but the text as a whole seems to get progressively less smart, less simple, less affecting. So, you see, I’m not sure that any major version of Candide has been the best of all possible Candides — we’d have to pick and choose various elements out of each one, even though it’s also unlikely they’d mix well together, given how the plot has continuously evolved as well.

To that point, I think if you most want to enjoy the musical version of Candide — specifically, Leonard Bernstein and his collaborators’ delectable score — it has to be framed in Lillian Hellman’s original conception of the plot, for that is what these songs were designed to enhance, and they make progressively less sense when removed from that context. Accordingly, the best version of Candide — the closest to perfection — is probably one that exists close to 1956, with some minor tweaks but not the major overhaul that began in the early 1970s. This means looking at the version that briefly toured post-Broadway in 1958 and/or the original London production that ran in 1959 — both using Hellman’s text with edits provided by Michael Stewart. In particular, I think I like the London production’s rundown of songs — for instance, replacing the unnecessary “Quiet” with the funnier “We Are Women” — and, just based on written accounts, its slightly tighter storytelling. So, using that as a basis, with maybe a couple of choices from adjacent productions — like adding in “Dear Boy,” which was written but cut before Broadway and then added to the 1958 tour — would come nearest to my ideal Candide, best displaying the musical riches provided by Bernstein and company.

Unfortunately, all that’s currently available from those late 1950s productions is a clip above of the London company on TV — and their scripts have never been published — but I can share a couple of pre-1973 Candide goodies at least, with subscribers who comment below to alert me of their private, non-commercial interest. The first is an audio from a 1968 NY Philharmonic concert featuring, among others, Alan Arkin and Madeline Kahn. Here’s the latter with…

I’ve also got an audio from the 1971 tour that was intended to precede a never-materialized Broadway run. This version starred London’s original Cunegonde, Mary Costa, and like the 1968 concert, featured an ever-shifting book rearranged by Sheldon Patinkin (working from Hellman’s and Stewart’s earlier efforts). From this recording, here’s Costa, Frank Porretta, and company with the soaring “Make Our Garden Grow” — a gem from a score full of ’em. Maybe one day we’ll get to see the best of all possible Candides; ’til then, we’ll…

Come back next month for another musical rarity! And stay tuned tomorrow for more 30 Rock!