A couple of weeks ago, I had a late-night visit in my basement from a neighbor. I do not, at this time, consider the River Des Peres a good neighbor. I would prefer that the Good Fathers stay at home.
This surprise visit has thoroughly disrupted my life, and forced me to spend time on things I had not anticipated spending time on. I had anticipated writing this review before Hawthorne’s production of A Chorus Line closed so that I could encourage you to see this splendid production. Too late now. I can only tell you what a splendid production it was and regret that you did not see it if you did not see it but might have seen it had I written my glowing review in time.
A Chorus Line is unlike any other musical I can think of. It has no book, no story of boy meets girl, no hero and heroine, no villain, nothing of what usually pulls us into the lives of characters and makes us wait in hope and fear for a happy outcome.
It begins with a stage full of dancers going through a routine as they audition for the director of a new musical. Half of them are dismissed. The rest are asked by the director to talk about themselves. Eventually, he picks the eight dancers he needs. And that’s it.
Instead of getting to know one boy and one girl, we get to know a dozen. Suspense? We can barely wait to find out whom he picks. We want them all to be chosen.
The first time you see A Chorus Line, you think, how simple. Just put together the stories that some dancers have told you. When you see it again – and again, and again – you realize how carefully contrived this piece really is. The stories begin in the childhood of those who tell them – how they first fell in love with dance, the little boy at his sister’s dance class, the girl escaping her unhappy home to go to where everything is beautiful at the ballet. Others’ stories tell of adolescent agonies and joys, the young man’s pain when his family discovers him in a drag show, the frustrating experience of a high school acting class. Finally the hardships and rewards of life as an adult dancer, and the anxiety about what follows when you can no longer dance.
The stories are carefully selected to include a range of social backgrounds, ethnic types, and degrees of success in the business: the whole diverse population of people who make a life in the theater.
All this Michael Bennett and his co-choreographer Bob Avian, his book writers James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, and Marvin Hamlisch, who composed the infectious music, and Edward Kleban, who wrote the lyrics, and the dancers in the original cast put together into a show that speaks not just for dancers in a chorus but for anyone who as ever aspired to a dream. That’s why the final number, the chorus now in gilded costumes, dancing and singing in perfect unison, can still give a little thrill even to jaded old guys like me who have seen the show over and over and over and have long since given up any hope of ever again dancing in a chorus.
Like much of the musical theatre of the past fifty years, A Chorus Line demands triple-threat performers who can act, sing, and dance. If not all the eager auditioners in the opening cattle call at Hawthorne showed talent at all three, that was as it should be, because half of them were immediately dismissed. Those who stayed demonstrated the depth of the pool of talent available to Hawthorne and to community theatres throughout the area. As Zach, the director within the show, Ken Clark respects the delicacy of the audition process and becomes a counselor for Aaron Kamphoefner’s injured Paul, who has the longest story.
Andrea Reed’s Val pays tribute to plastic surgery in “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three,” joyfully and almost viciously celebrating a triumph over feelings of inferiority. Abigail Alsmeyer as Cassie, once almost a Broadway star, now a Hollywood drop-out wanting to get back into the chorus, radiates energy and frustration in her big number “The Music and the Mirror,” a number that no matter how good the dancer – and Alsmeyer is very good – always seems a little too long to me, wanting more from music and choreography. Chelsie Johnston came on strong as sassy and sexy Sheila, always a center of attention. If looks could kill, Zach would be pushing up daisies after the darts she threw when leaving. I should go on with the whole cast, but I’ll stop here.
Director Mark Hull, choreographer Kimberly Klick, and music director Jacob M Cowley did splendid work in fitting this piece on their cast and in their stage. Colleen Heneghan’s set had the mirrors when appropriate, and Tracey Newcomb’s costumes dazzled in the final moments. Eric Wennlund designed lights and sound.
I am sorry I didn’t say all this two weeks ago.
—Bob Wilcox
Photo by Wolfe Creative Media Services
