It has been ten years since the Paper Mill Playhouse last staged A Chorus Line. That we can still feel responsive to the passionately shared personal life stories of dancers says something about the durability of one of the most emotional musicals you are ever likely to see. For those not in tune with the difficulties that mark the life of the gypsy, the musical will feel like a music and dance-propelled, group therapy session. In many ways it is, as expressed by the show's director Baayork Lee, Connie in the original cast: "It is important that the audience realizes that those people on stage are portraying real lives - that most of the original cast members were speaking about themselves." Another approach, and the one I take, is to view it as a series of lyrically developed, overlapping confessionals fused into a genuinely impassioned show biz story.
These special "gypsies," originally a group of hand picked proteges of Michael Bennett (who conceived, choreographed and directed them in a workshop-initiated project), came to be the subject of one of the most extraordinary successes in Broadway history. Its unprecedented, record-breaking run of 15 years and 6,137 performances at the Shubert Theater nurtured quite a galaxy of performers who have since continued their careers.
Lee, a noted keeper of the flame for having re-staged the show many times throughout the world, is repeating the task she did for the 1991 production at the Paper Mill Playhouse. And, once again, designer Robin Wagner's original mirrored settings have been faithfully re-produced, as have the costumes by Theoni V. Aldredge. There was a profound motivation and a dazzling concept behind A Chorus Line that seemed to break with all precedent. Lee's staging continues to reflect the sure hand of someone who cares deeply, even if some of the principals may not seem now as vivid and unforgettable as were those who were there at the beginning. If this production is marked by anything it is the ensemble dancing, certainly a major emotional force as conceived.
Even before authors James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante had begun to give a dramatic structure to the hours of revealing taped conversations between director and dancers, Bennett was rehearsing his astounding company in a highly and provocatively conceptualized audition process. Added to this was Marvin Hamlisch's (best) score (with dynamic lyrics by Edward Kleban). It is a score that remains an evocative ear-opener. Particularly now that we have seen on Broadway just last season A Class Act, the Tony-nominated musical that told Kleban's show-biz story, the lyrics resonate with even more punch.
Lee continues the process, as does the character of the director within the musical. He is Zach, the demanding and aggressive choreographer who leads the dancers through the demanding routines and also, often painfully, out of their defensive emotional shells. Amazingly, the funny/sad stories weave effectively through the music and dance sequences with a strong central narrative thrust. Even the strongly-characterized Zach's (given a thick skinned no-nonsense portrayal by Mark Bove) emotional involvement with Cassie (Caitlin Carter), as revealed through the dance-spotlighted "The Music and the Mirror," is designated as just another one of the show's more emotionally wrenching episodes. Carter is not only touching but terrific as Zach's former lover and the "special" dancer who has tried unsuccessfully to become a star but who now wants desperately ("I'd be proud to be one of them") to get this job in the chorus.
The success of this, and any, Chorus Line must be measured by the effectiveness of its individual performers, as well as by its collective brilliance. In this case, the effectiveness is happily much more than perfunctory. Kim Shriver comes on strong and aggressively sexy as the "almost 30" Sheila. Cindy Marchionda, as the tennis shoe-tapping Diana, put over the hit ballad "What I Did for Love," with Bronxian-incorporated overtones. Continuing to be emotionally compelling is the poignant monologue by Luis Villabon, as the Cyd Charisse-wannabe Paul. Other performers who stand out include tall, lanky Robert Tunstall, who, as Bobby, decides during a low point in his life that "to commit suicide in Buffalo is redundant," and Brenda Hamilton, who, as Kristine, really wanted to be Doris Day but "I couldn't sing."
Whatever your reaction is to A Chorus Line, and this is a show that prompts many different reactions, you won't deny it being a valentine to all the "gypsies" -- those relentlessly committed dancers who appear in show after show mostly unrecognized. They train and audition and hope to make it big but rarely ever make it into the solo spotlight. [On a happy note, one performer who did made it big in A Chorus Line is Donna McKechnie, the original Cassie. She will be appearing at the Paper Mill Playhouse in her acclaimed solo act, Inside the Music, in a special one-night only concert October 2.
