What Really Happened With Patti LuPone and Andrew Lloyd Webber

If you’ve ever dipped even a toe into the world of musical theater, you know that drama usually stays on the stage. Usually. But when it comes to the legendary fallout between Patti LuPone and Andrew Lloyd Webber, the real-life theatrics were arguably better than anything you could buy a ticket for at the Majestic or the St. James.

It’s the kind of saga that spans decades, involves a million-dollar check, a literal swimming pool built out of spite, and a level of professional pettiness that honestly commands a bit of respect.

The Evita Paradox

To understand why things went so south, you have to look at how they started. It wasn’t always screaming matches and lawsuits. Back in 1979, Andrew Lloyd Webber and director Hal Prince took a chance on a young, fierce LuPone for the Broadway premiere of Evita.

The show was a beast. LuPone has been very vocal over the years about how brutal that score was on her voice. She famously described the experience as being "screamed at by a bullhorn" by Hal Prince, who she claims used to compare the Broadway cast unfavorably to the Los Angeles company just to keep them on edge.

Despite the backstage misery, the collaboration worked. LuPone’s "Don’t Cry for Me Argentina" became the definitive version. She took home the Tony Award for Best Actress in 1980. For a minute there, it seemed like the composer and his muse were a match made in heaven. Or at least a match made in the kind of high-tension environment that produces great art.

The Sunset Boulevard Betrayal

The real explosion—the one people still talk about in hushed tones at Sardi’s—didn't happen until the early 90s.

Lloyd Webber was mounting his next massive hit, Sunset Boulevard. He cast LuPone as Norma Desmond for the original London production at the Adelphi Theatre. The agreement, at least in LuPone’s mind and her contract, was that she would then open the show on Broadway.

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But then, things got messy.

While LuPone was busy performing the role in London to solid reviews, Lloyd Webber was looking at the American production. He’d cast Glenn Close for the Los Angeles run, and the buzz was astronomical. Rumors started swirling. LuPone, ever the straight shooter, asked for clarity. She was reportedly assured her job was safe.

She found out she was fired from a gossip column.

Specifically, she read in Liz Smith’s column that Glenn Close would be taking the role to Broadway. Imagine being a world-class performer, currently starring in the West End production of a show, and finding out you’ve been sacked via a newspaper while you’re getting ready for a performance.

LuPone didn’t take it lying down. She famously trashed her dressing room—we’re talking floor-to-ceiling destruction—and then she did the most "Patti" thing possible. She sued.

The Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool

Here is where the story shifts from "sad show business casualty" to "iconic revenge lore." LuPone sued for breach of contract and, after some legal wrangling, walked away with a settlement rumored to be around $1 million.

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She didn't put it in a boring index fund.

She used the money to build a swimming pool at her home in Connecticut. To this day, she refers to it as the "Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool." It is the ultimate monument to being right. In her own words, she’s spent many a sunny afternoon floating in that pool, literally soaking in the victory of her lawsuit.

Honestly, the level of brand-alignment required to turn a career-ending snub into a backyard oasis is something we should all study.

Is the Feud Actually Over?

For twenty years, they didn't speak. Then, in 2018, the theater world gasped when it was announced that LuPone would perform at the Grammys in a tribute to Lloyd Webber.

They met. They rehearsed. LuPone walked into the room and reportedly said, "This is détente, ladies and gentlemen." They even hugged.

But don't mistake a professional truce for a budding friendship. LuPone is nothing if not honest. In more recent years, even after the "reconciliation," she’s called him a "sad sack" and criticized his more recent work as "schmaltz."

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Just last year, LuPone attended the Jamie Lloyd-directed revival of Sunset Boulevard on Broadway. People were watching her like hawks. Surprisingly, she loved it. She sent a voice memo to a journalist praising the production's minimalism. It seems she can separate the art from the man, even if the man is someone she once sued for a seven-figure sum.

What We Can Learn From the Drama

There’s a weirdly practical lesson in all this chaos.

• Get it in writing. LuPone’s career survived and thrived because she had a contract that Lloyd Webber couldn't just ignore without consequences.
• Success is the best revenge. She didn't disappear. She went on to win more Tonys (for Gypsy and Company) and became a bigger legend than she would have been if she'd just quietly moved on.
• Don't hold back. Part of why LuPone is so beloved is that she never plays the corporate game. She says what she thinks. In a world of PR-scrubbed statements, that authenticity (even when it’s salty) builds a real connection with an audience.

If you’re looking to follow in her footsteps, maybe start by checking your own employment contracts. And if things go south? At least make sure you get enough for a heated pool.

To dive deeper into the technical side of why their collaboration worked in the first place, you should listen to the original 1979 Broadway cast recording of Evita. Pay close attention to the phrasing in "A New Argentina." You can clearly hear the vocal "belt" that LuPone complained about—it’s technically grueling, sitting right on the break of the female voice. Analyzing that recording gives you a much better appreciation for why she felt so burnt out by the time the Sunset Boulevard drama rolled around. It wasn't just ego; it was years of literal vocal labor.

Next Steps for Theater Fans:

• Compare the 1979 Evita recording with the 1993 Sunset Boulevard London cast highlights to hear how LuPone's vocal character evolved under Lloyd Webber's writing.
• Check out LuPone's memoir, Patti LuPone: A Memoir, for her unfiltered, first-person account of the dressing room incident—it’s way more detailed than the tabloid versions.
• Look up the 2018 Grammy performance of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" to see the "détente" in action; it's a masterclass in professional poise under pressure.