by Aaron Netsky

Ah, musical theatre. The most romantic art form. The one where the lovers alternately speak and sing love to each other and it almost makes sense in context. So many of the great couples of popular culture come from or eventually make their way to musical theatre: Captain von Trapp and Maria, Tevye and Golde, Cinderella and her Prince, Albin and Georges. But what about the thruples?

At the time of this writing, I am not aware of any musical based on Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy’s The Ethical Slut: A Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities. I look forward to it, maybe I’ll even do it myself if I find the right collaborator (or two), but in the meanwhile, I recently caught a song, on a cast recording that I rarely listen to, that seemed to be about, whether the writers knew it or not, polyamory.

Polyamory is a form of ethical non-monogamy in which people engage in intimate relationships (romantic, sexual, or both) with more than one person at the same time. It may seem like a hip, new thing, but it actually goes back quite a ways, both in history and in musical theatre. Indeed, that one song I was listening to brought to mind several more, including key songs from my earliest years of musical theatre exploration. Musicals were teaching me about ethical non-monogamy before I had had much of a chance to even be monogamous.

What follows is just a sampling of what I found down that particular rabbit hole. My criteria for the list are a little loose; it’s mostly about judgment, after all. Often, it’s just a song or a line in a song that I judge says more than, perhaps, has previously been suspected. I also do not count instances of cheating (no Hamilton) or shows where characters have harems (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, The King and I). If the show and/or the writers seem to feel that the feelings being felt by the character who may have feelings for more than one person are okay, it’s a nod toward polyamory in my book.

But before we get there, here’s where I do the responsible thing and warn you that I do go into the ultimate fates of several characters from the musical theatre canon, and if you don’t yet know their stories, you may choose to skip over their section. Ready? Here we go:

“How in the world can there be two?”

Like 8½, the Federico Fellini film on which it is based, Nine, with songs by Maury Yeston and a book by Arthur Kopit, is a mess of women and love. Well, it’s about Guido Contini’s midlife crisis, which is not exactly smooth sailing. But the song “Only With You,” about Guido’s love for three different women, speaks to the very heart of polyamory: sometimes, you can’t get everything you need from a single partner. Guido sings of his wife, his lover, and his muse in completely different terms: the one he’s most himself with, the one who keeps his engine burning, and the one who fuels his creativity. Do they, on balance, each get enough from him? Well, that’s the show. But the song, at least, suggests an equal place/need for each in his life.

“I close my eyes and I still see his face…”

This is the only one that’s a thorn in my side. In Wilkie Collins’s novel The Woman in White, there is no love triangle. Walter Hartright and Marian Halcombe have a completely platonic relationship throughout. Walter loves Marian’s sister, Laura Fairlie, and Marian misses nothing by having no intimate entanglements of any kind. However, Andrew Lloyd Webber (music), David Zippel (lyrics), and Charlotte Jones (book) could not leave well enough alone. In the musical, Marian falls for Walter at the same time that Laura does, and it is even suggested that jealousy might be motivating some of her behavior. Not only that, but by the end, Walter has fallen for Marian as well, and she tells him that he must end up with Laura. The last words of the musical are those quoted above, sung in absolute agony. This is what is known as an unforced error, but it could happen. Would Laura go to share Walter with her sister? Maybe, maybe not. They’re quite close. But is it a question anyone should have about this story? No.

“I’m here.” “That’s all I need… to know…”

I’ve gotten into a bit of internet trouble (so not real trouble) for things I’ve suggested about Éponine as depicted in the musical theatre adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, so perhaps I should tread lightly here, but I’m not going to. Her duet with Marius, “A Little Fall of Rain,” is sexier and more romantic than anything Marius does with Cosette on that stage, and she’s dying in it. Also, it includes Marius singing the words, “But you will live, ‘Ponine, dear god above/If I could heal your wounds with words of love.” I know love can exist between friends, and “friend” is how he refers to Éponine in other parts of the show, but I think this moment reveals, more so, certainly than anything in the novel, that were it not for class differences, he might have been able to find himself attached to Éponine the same way he does Cosette. And Cosette probably would have just accepted it. It’s not like she and Éponine haven’t lived together before.

Joshua Grosso as Marius, Phoenix Best as Éponine and Jillian Butler as Cosette in the new national tour of "Les Miserables." Photo: Matthew Murphy

“Is it all er nuthin with you?”

When it comes time for Ado Annie Carnes, just a girl who “cain’t say no,” and Will Parker to decide on terms for their marriage in Oklahoma!, Will seems to insist on traditional monogamy, while Annie resists. “All Er Nuthin” is the song and the ultimatum. Just as Annie seems to be ready to accept, Will demonstrates some of the same sorts of behavior he is objecting to when it comes from Annie. Annie notices and points out the hypocrisy. Wherever they ultimately land, they both seem ready to accept who they’re with, maybe even adjust as it’s called for. Will’s not too thrilled about how many “Persian goodbyes” Annie receives from Ali Hakim but doesn’t seem to consider it a breach of contract. They are who they are, and I think they’ll be fine, and the show seems to, as well.

“But I’m always true to you, darling, in my fashion.”

In the case of this song from Kiss Me, Kate, it’s right there in the title: “Always True to You in My Fashion.” There are different “fashions,” that is to say, “ways” to be true to one’s partner. In the case of Lois, she doesn’t exactly say in what fashion she’s always true to her boyfriend, Bill, in her song, just that she is. In between, she cites examples of men with whom she has been or might be involved. She always seems to get something out of these trysts, like a nice coat or hat. Perhaps the way in which she is true to Bill is that his gifts aren’t as fancy, but she always returns to him anyway. Well, as with Ado Annie and Will in Oklahoma!, Bill and Lois end up together, so they must find some common ground, some acceptance of each other.

“Is it always or? Is it never and?”

As with all things Stephen Sondheim, “Moments in the Woods,” from Into the Woods, is a more complicated animal than others of its sort. It takes place after Prince Charming, having had “a moment” with the Baker’s Wife, just up and leaves. She is confused, and the beginning of the song is mostly questions: “Was it wrong? Am I mad? Is that all? Does he miss me?” For her, reason seems to insist that it’s the influence of the magical, fairy tale woods that led her to do what she did. Perhaps that is why she doesn’t seem to feel guilty and doesn’t seem to think her husband needs to know or care. She acknowledges her responsibilities, including those most urgent in the story, but doesn’t seem to feel her actions took anything away from them.

She even rationalizes that different things have different functions, so it’s okay to have more than one: “Have a child for warmth and a baker for bread and a prince for whatever.” She then goes back to the idea of it having been something out of her control that didn’t represent her, but questions why she shouldn’t be able to enjoy the occasional “moment,” in case it’s her only one. Ultimately, she falls back on the influence of the woods’ excuse, vowing to treasure what it gave her but move on. She is then punished for her indiscretion. I told you this one was complicated.

“My heart’s in a pickle: it’s constantly fickle.”

This was the song that sent me on this wild goose and gander chase: “When I’m Not Near the Girl I Love,” by Burton Lane and E. Y. Harburg, from Finian’s Rainbow. The character who sings it is Og, a leprechaun who is turning into a human because he’s been separated from his gold. And what does he find as he becomes more and more human? More and more complicated feelings. Feelings he wants to confess to Sharon. But Sharon’s not around. So, he decides, Susan will do. “Is this what it’s like to be mortal?” he asks. “Is every girl the only girl? I’m beginnin’ to like it!” He’s like a male Ado Annie; he’s “faithful to those who are here.” I’m less familiar with this show than with the others; it seems like he ends up with only one, not the one he sings his confession to, but rather the one he was looking for in the first place.

“No way can I be what I’m not.”

“Take Me or Leave Me,” Maureen and Joanne’s aggressive break-up number in Jonathan Larson’s RENT, isn’t exactly about Maureen being unable to stop falling in love after settling in with her primary partner, but about her being unwilling to give up a life that makes her feel desirable. Actually, what Joanne is unwilling to do is actually more relevant: let Maureen be who she is. Maureen is a performance artist; she craves an audience and their attention, whatever form that takes. Joanne doesn’t like her having so much attention, especially certain kinds, even though Maureen insists Joanne is the primary focus of her own attention and that should be enough.

The song is also about Maureen not being able to take Joanne for who she is, mostly insofar as how Joanne is trying to control who Maureen is. Polyamory is about not trying to control, not trying to suppress one’s partner, and not taking personally how they express themself to others.

“I am the mask you wear.” “It’s me they hear.”

No discussion of musical theatre can be complete without bringing in The Phantom of the Opera, right? Of course, Christine goes off with Raoul at the end, and the audience accepts it because, sure, her alternative killed and terrorized people, and besides, she was never in love with him; she was bewitched, in a trance. Okay, then why is it that all I ever hear is she should have ended up with the Phantom? Someone recently told me she felt that denying the realness of Christine’s feelings for the Phantom takes away her agency as a woman, even a young woman. She can love one “normal” man, but not another slightly weird one? She makes the safe choice, and it’s not like she and Raoul don’t have a bond, but she is clearly genuinely in love with both. if you don’t believe me, watch the sequel.

But, really, don’t watch the sequel; just take my word for it.

Now, a key aspect of a successful polyamorous relationship is for all parties to be cool with it. Raoul and the Phantom want to kill each other, so Christine has to settle for one. But in the title number, Christine and the Phantom sing the lines I quoted above about being part of each other, being one.

Creative relationships can be quite intimate, whether the composers and lyricists who write the songs (in this case, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Charles Hart, and Richard Stilgoe) or the voice teachers and students who bring the songs to life. And just play out the scenario if Raoul never knocks on Christine’s dressing room door: Christine and the Phantom continue their lessons; the Phantom never has any reason to get jealous because no other suitors bring the history that Raoul does and peak Christine’s interest; eventually, the Phantom lets her see him and his lair, as they become more and more intimately acquainted.

The Phantom makes Christine the greatest singer in Paris and eventually the world; perhaps he travels with her, heavily cloaked, disguised as an assistant or servant. He is her voice, she is his mask: together they engage with the world. Yes, Raoul ruins a perfectly good love story, but he doesn’t have to. If he and the Phantom could have just put Christine first, the three of them might have lived happily ever after.

In coming up with this list, my own imperfect knowledge of all of musical theatre and the fact that popular musicals just spring to mind more easily than others may have conspired to make me miss some crucial examples of polyamory in musical theatre. If you know what those are, please educate me in the comments, complete the list. The more the merrier.

Nine Times Musical Theatre Nodded Toward Polyamory