Opening on Broadway July 25th, 1975 and the fourth longest running musical in Broadway’s history, A Chorus Line, explores the contradiction of theatrical dancers also known as “gypsies” because they wander from show to show, working very hard to attain perfection but rarely getting anything close to the accolades of the actors. In other words, they are at least as dedicated as the participants with spoken dialogue, but nowhere near the recognition. They make an invaluable contribution to the show as a whole, but they’re not really supposed to stand out. “Why”, A Chorus Line asks, “would anyone work so hard for so little acclaim?”
The curtain of A Chorus Line rises on a group of mostly young, hopeful, dancers auditioning for a demanding, but not exactly bellicose choreographer named Zach. He does however have a perverse streak of cruelty that arises from time to time. After the first round of cuts Zach (Michael Gruber) informs the remaining candidates that some of the dancers will actually have some lines to speak, necessitating a change in the customary tryouts. They will not be given scripts, but instead, be asked to confide something genuine without the shield of “performing.” There are real problems with the logic behind this, though later we discover it was probably motivated by Zach’s past involvement with one of the dancers.
So predicated on this dodgy premise, A Chorus Line proceeds as the feverish, terrified gypsies are asked to divulge some substantial truth normally confined to their private lives. They are hesitant at the outset, but slowly, gradually they confide, more often than not by clue rather than direct information. We hear about the painful experiences we can all sympathize (if not identify) with and realize that in the theatre, just like everywhere else, we all have catastrophes we must rise above, or at the very least, put in a box. It’s intriguing to hear the amusing, sometimes shattering anecdotes. Though you have to wonder about a choreographer who asks so much, then deprives his protégés of the tools that make their expertise possible.
Two salient examples are the characters Paul and Cassie. Zach is so intuitively conscious that Paul is hiding something that he makes all the other dancers leave. After much encouragement and prodding Paul (Joey Dudding) describes a devastating moment in which the hidden, more degrading side of his being gay collides with the straight persona his family knows. It is a marvelous moment to be sure, and reveals a paternal, nurturing side to Zach. But later, when this vulnerability seems to culminate in rejection, it reduces Paul to a homily. A device.
Cassie (Robyn Hurder) is one of the more experienced dancers, and Zach wants to know why she would settle for being in the chorus, when she is capable of so much more. She explains in the midst of great hurt and frustration that after years of being turned down, she simply wants to work and be happy. Her big number, “The Music and the Mirror” goes on a bit long, but is clearly intended to answer the show’s burning question about perseverance and anonymity. Not everyone wants to endlessly strive, she tells him, some of us just want to savor the joy that comes from doing what we love best.
It’s hard to watch A Chorus Line and not be impressed with its flair, its ingenuity, its exhilarating vibrant milieu of frantic, intense dancers with their exquisite bodies and urgent need to soar and dazzle. Their stories are affecting, if familiar, and you can tell (composer) Marvin Hamlisch, (book writers) James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante and (lyricist) Edward Kleban are trying to break it up, keep it fresh, keep it surprising, captivate us with spectacle and warmth. And it does that, a lot, but something at the center either doesn’t quite seem to hold or is simply missing. I’m not sure what makes the difference between a show that is fine, and competent, and one that overcomes us, like a chemical reaction. Perhaps it’s something purely accidental. Unpredictable and whimsical as luck.
The Music Hall at Fair Park Presents : A Chorus Line directed by Bob Avian, restaged and with new choreography by Baayork Lee, playing July 7th -19th. Dallas Summer Musicals, P.O. Box 710336, Dallas, TX 75371. 214.421.5678. www.dallassummermusicals.org
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