
While the opening numbers of a musical give us a taste of what’s coming and get us oriented to the world of the story, it’s the I Want song that makes the story begin to matter to us. This is where we enter the inner world of our protagonist, get a sense of what’s driving them, and get personally invested in them, not just the world they inhabit.
Does the I Want song need to center on whatever goal of the protagonist is driving the story? Sometimes, but not always. It does in Wicked, at least in the beginning, where what gets the story started is Elphaba’s discovery that she could actually be useful to the Wizard of Oz. She breaks into her I Want song, “The Wizard and I,” where she outlines how this would change her life, transforming her from misfit to celebrity. This is what motivates her to stay and study in Shiz despite being a social pariah, stuck with a condescending blonde for a roommate. But then Elphaba grows and discovers there’s more going on in Oz than she’d previously understood. By the end of the first act, her I Want song no longer applies. She even sings, “I don’t want it. I can’t want it anymore.”
Sometimes, the I Want song is about a dream that has nothing to do with the inciting event. In Beauty and the Beast, for example, Belle sings “Belle Reprise” about her longing for “adventure in the great wide somewhere,” far from the tired scripts laid out for her in a poor provincial town dominated by Gaston. But it’s not that longing that draws her to the cursed castle and impels her to offer herself to the Beast as captive in her father’s place; it’s devotion to her father. But a song about her daughterly devotion would not have been as effective; the self-sacrifice of a dutiful daughter can sometimes be a tired old script. But it’s Belle’s restless longing for something more, for adventure and understanding, that makes us care about her sacrifice and invests us in her story, wherever it’s going to take us.
Does the I Want song have to say the words I Want? Not necessarily. Sometimes the audience figures out what the protagonist wants by reading between the lines. This is especially the case when the protagonist may not even recognize what it is they want, or maybe lacks the courage to claim it.
At the beginning of West Side Story, Tony doesn’t quite know what it is that’s pulling him away from the Jets. He believes there’s something better for him, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. So in “Something’s Coming”, he sings about the air humming with a sense that something’s just around the corner, waiting out of reach. He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that it’s good. This eager anticipation of something “canonballing down through the sky, gleam in its eye, bright as a rose” is catching. He finishes the song with “maybe tonight…”and sure enough, when Maria waltzes into his life that very night, we recognize the promised miracle in their instant connection.
As The Sound of Music opens, Maria doesn’t know what she wants either. She thinks she wants to be a nun and she’s earnestly trying to tame her heart not to want anything more. She’s not suited to the convent, but neither is she prepared to see that. So, we get two songs in sequence that introduce us to her inner world. One is Maria’s ode to the music of nature in the hills, in which she admits to a lonely heart that longs to sing, laugh and fly. The other, “Maria” is sung by the nuns, who bemoan her unsuitability for Nonnberg Abbey by recounting her propensity for such infractions as waltzing and whistling, and even wearing curlers under her wimple. They disagree about whether she’s a flibbertijibbet, a will o-the wisp, or a clown, but they all know she’s as untameable as a cloud, a wave, and a moonbeam. By the time they’re finished singing, the audience has a pretty good handle on Maria, and a real interest in her finding her way to a life that lets her be who she is.
In Dear Evan Hansen, Evan’s problem is not so much that he doesn’t know what he wants as that he’s so far from believing he can get it that he doesn’t dare to admit that he wants it. Instead, he sings Waving Through A Window about the agony of a life where his expectation of rejection prevents him from trying to connect. He feels both invisible and helpless to fix it, so he doesn’t commit himself to wanting to be seen. Instead he asks if it’s even possible: “Can anybody see, is anybody waving back at me?” The song is brilliant in many ways, including an allusion to a devastating incident in his past that sounds like a mere philosophical question in the current context: “when you’re falling in a forest and there’s nobody around, do you ever really crash or even make a sound?” Most importantly, it describes his anguish in terms that speak to our compassion and get us longing for Evan to be seen, to find friends. Between the devastating I Want song and the tortuous bits of action and dialogue that follow (when a relative refuses to sign his cast because they’re just “family friends” which is not the same as real friends, and then a potential friend turns on him and runs off with information that threatens Evan’s humiliation) we are ready, not just to understand but even to feel a sense of relief when Evan gets a chance at belonging under false but compassionate pretenses, and he goes for it.
Does just one character get an I Want song? Not necessarily. The protagonist needs one, but sometimes, the antagonist or maybe the love interest, will get one too. My Fair Lady has three I Want songs: Eliza Dolittle’s “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?” Professor Higgins’ “Why Can’t the English?” and Alfred Dolittle’s “With A Little Bit of Luck.” The musical benefits from the contrast between all three. Eliza’s song begins when she discovers that Higgins tossed her a much larger coin than she’d imagined. Her friends joke about her fortune and sing about a castle in Paris, and Eliza launches into a song about just wanting a warm and comfortable room of her own, and some chocolate. Once she starts dreaming, her ambitions expand to include a warm and tender man who takes good care of her. It sounds like a modest dream, but for someone with Eliza’s prospects, it’s actually extremely ambitious. What’s more, simple details like, “warm face, warm hands, warm feet,” make it easy to relate to, and we’re drawn in, wanting her to achieve it.
By contrast, Professor Higgins’ I Want is less relatable and maybe even a little off-putting (though funny). His inner world is marked by an assumption of superiority over anyone who drops their H’s and doesn’t pronounce their vowels properly. He demeans her, but then he boasts that he could teach Eliza to speak so well that he could pass her off as a duchess, and he tosses a generous sum into her basket. This positions him to fulfill the first two verses of her I Want song. But can we even imagine him “warm and tender as he can be”? The songs set Henry and Eliza up in opposition to each other, even as they bring her into his orbit.
Then, while Eliza boldly pursues a plan for self-improvement, her father sings an I Want song about cheerfully resisting all opportunities for betterment and being lucky enough to get away with it. His attitude toward life contrasts so strongly with Eliza’s that it endears us to her more.
To sum up, the I Want song/s need to make our protagonist matter to us. Then their dreams will matter too. It doesn’t need to chart the path for the entire musical because the protagonist needs to grow and their goals may change as they do. Fortunately, we’ll have other songs to help us redirect our hopes and expectations through the rest of the show.
Thanks for your support for Summit Stages! If you liked this story, please consider sending it on to a friend.
If you are not already subscribed to my weekly newsletter, I'd be delighted if you'd do so here.
And a deeply, heartfelt thanks to those who've contributed to my tip jar Your support is greatly appreciated!
See you next week when we dive in to the Conditional Love Song!
Commentaires