Back when you were still allowed to talk about Woody Allen, people were fond of saying that they preferred his early movies, when he was funny, before Stardust Memories, though there has been good stuff after that, if not of the same madcap variety as say, Bananas.

What does this have to do with Sondheim. Well, I liked his early work better, and, dare I say it, in particular when someone else was writing the music – West Side Story and Gypsy.

But Chicago Sings was about Sondheim, so no Bernstein or Styne tunes. And, because those of us who support the theater are supposed to be aficionados, we were “treated” to a number of songs that the average Joe (not to be confused with last season’s 13-episode TV show I liked but that has not been renewed – again I’m on the wrong side) might not have picked from his other shows.

As for the performances, I will call out Laura Savage (as I have done several times before), who lights up the stage, and Mark David Kaplan, whose Pretty Little Picture as Pseudolus made me laugh (which was permitted in early Sondheim shows).

But enough about substance. The food was good. The registration line not so much. And, thankfully, no one fell down the winding staircase on their way back down to the auditorium for the show after drinking at the reception.