Review: A CHORUS LINE (July 08), Ahmanson Theatre
The playbill from the Ahmanson Theatre proclaims A Chorus Line to be The Best Musical. Ever. A Chorus Line is an important musical, but it is not The Best Musical. Ever. A Chorus Line is an important show because it dared to show audiences the grueling, yet thrilling backstage life of the dancing gypsies.
It is also important as Michael Bennett’s testament to Broadway; the show evolved from his 1975 workshop of interviews with dancers. Supported by composer Marvin Hamlisch and lyricist Edward Kleban, the tales of the line were shaped into a story by Nicholas Dante and James Kirkwood. Most of the original cast members performed their own stories. Bennett’s direction/choreography was revolutionary; and the show was an unexpected blockbuster, winning both the Tony and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and becoming one of the longest-running musicals to date.
Although Michael Bennett passed away in 1987, his spirit is alive on Broadway and on tour yet again, with the recent revival of A Chorus Line. Rather than a fresh reimagining of the gypsy experience, the revival resurrects Bennett’s original staging. On the one hand, it’s thrilling to see the direction that defined Broadway in the 1970s, as I wasn’t alive to experience it then. On the other hand, it’s a little creepy. The production even replicates the original costuming, a characteristic used less and less frequently in recent decades. With the pop culture references of the “Montage” sequence (“Robert Goulet out, Steve McQueen in!”), A Chorus Line is dated, a contemporary work now a period piece. But is it ubiquitously Bennett and gold top hats?
The show is poignant, if unusual, and the performances of the touring cast are enjoyable. Despite the “concept musical” format, the framing structure would be condemned by the construction code authorities if it were for a building instead of a play. Director Zach’s efforts to get his dancers to open up are peculiar to say the least: when one of the musical’s objectives is to show how impersonal and arduous the audition process is, why does he confuse the casting couch with the analyst’s couch?
Nikki Snelson’s Cassie epitomizes the character-a talented dancer, not particularly suited for featured acting roles. It was in “The Music and the Mirror” that I noted the musical similarities between it and “Tick-Tock” from in Company, another Bennett/Donna McKechnie number. Zach (Michael Gruber) and Cassie’s argument during the “One” rehearsal is awkwardly written, filling in details that would be understood between them; clearly these things are only there for the audience’s benefit. If nothing else, it makes me wonder about Bennett and McKechnie’s marriage.
The most biting yet moving numbers go to Sheila and Diana, and Paul’s monologue won over the audience as much as it did thirty years ago. One of the first sympathetic gay characters on Broadway, Paul in 1975 is viewed somewhat differently today. Today I asked myself, Where was Paul ten years later, during the AIDS crisis? When he is hurt auditioning, it is a previous injury acting up again; one that could be the end of his dancing career. The dancer’s days are always numbered. As Sheila, Emily Fletcher had the aloof facade and brittle vulnerability of a woman auditioning for roles for “girls.” Like Paul, she’s approaching the end of her prime. I can’t help feeling that despite what Diana and she sing in “What I Did for Love,” Sheila will regret Zach not casting her.
On the subject of “What I Did for Love,” it’s a satisfactory ballad, but I maintain my opinion from before seeing it, that it is generic and more akin to the story of a relationship with a person than of a person with an art form. That latter feat will be tackled in another Pulitzer-winning musical, Sunday in the Park with George. Many disagree, but I don’t think it fits the relationship of how the dancers view their calling as established throughout the play, especially when confronted by Zach’s final question, how will they carry on when they can no longer dance? This issue aside, it is undeniably a powerhouse song, and was well sung by Gabrielle Ruiz as Diana Morales.
That said, the biggest hand of the night went to “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three.” Seated in the balcony with us was a large middle school field trip, who were just thrilled with Kleban’s ode to tits and ass-there were constant giggling fits!
The audience was overall younger than I’d expected. Aside from the twelve and thirteen year-olds, many of the viewers were jet-setters from their late twenties to early forties, sipping cocktails and carrying designer bags. I was interested to observe how girls in the younger crowd wore similar versions of the slinky sundresses and mod-pattered blouses on the older theatergoers, as well as the trend in men of varying ages to wear slacks, dress shirts, and Converse sneakers. It seemed a sort of uniform, not unlike the finale costumes, so all the men were interchangeable; what they were backdrop for, I cannot be sure.
A Chorus Line is not a perfect show; but it is historically notable, and the current revival is pleasant. I’m glad to have had the opportunity to see Michael Bennett’s vision of the dancer’s life. I’d also like to see someone else’s vision next time.