A Review

A-Five, Six, Seven, Eight !

By R. J. Donovan

In “A Chorus Line,” a director is searching for a small ensemble of singers and dancers who can work well together as a team.  They need to look good, perform cleanly -- in unison -- and support the star of the show.

The national tour of "A Chorus Line" currently at The Opera House achieves most all of that. 

The performers on stage work great as a group.  They look good.  They perform in sharp precision.  And they show off the star -- that is, the show itself.

"A Chorus Line" rightly exists as an icon of American musical theater; its creation was legendary.  The content of the show was drawn from a series of taped discussions among dancers about their lives and what it was like to work as "gypsies" -- the dancers who jump from show to show, singing and dancing in the chorus.  

In essence, it was the original reality show -- except that it was ultimately scripted based on the real stories of real dancers (although many of the final characters actually represented a combination of several life stories).

Tony Award-winning Michael Bennett was the creator and driving force behind the show, and his choreography for the national tour is faithfully re-staged by original cast member Baayork Lee. With a book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, music is by Marvin Hamlisch with lyrics from Edward Kleban. Bob Avian, co-choreographer of the original 1975 production, directs the tour.

The show is set at an audition for a Broadway musical. Overseeing the proceedings is Zach, the director.  Rather than relying solely on resumes, he wants the dancers to open up and talk about themselves, revealing things that would normally not come out at an audition.

So we meet Mike, who got hooked on dancing because of his sister's dance class;  Bobby, with the unhappy childhood in Buffalo;  Kristine, who can't carry a tune in a bucket;  Bebe, for whom everything was beautiful at the ballet;  Sheila the mouthy smart-ass; Richie, the guy who almost became a kindergarten teacher; the swaggering Gregory; dippy Judy; and so on.

Some of the stories are laugh out loud funny.  Others are heartbreaking. Many are shared via internal memories. Providing personal conflict for Zach is the presence of Cassie, with whom he once had a relationship.  She left the chorus to play bigger roles, but is now back because she's been out of work for two years.

Together, the company dances with great style.  The opening number, "I Hope I Get It," is as exciting as it's always been.  In fact, all the group numbers -- "Gimme The Ball," "At The Ballet," "Hello Twelve," are bright and sharp.

There are also several subtle visual moments in the show that produce goose bumps.  One comes at the end of "At The Ballet" (in which Hollie Howard, Emily Fletcher and Pilar Millhollen shine, above) as the individual memories of the dancers fade and "the line" effortlessly reforms onstage.  Another comes near the end of the show, when an injured dancer's spot on the line goes empty.  The tiny space speaks volumes

Where the show slips a bit is in a couple of the individual stories and one or two of the solos.  This is not to say there's anything wrong with any of the solos.  The performers hit all the right notes and make all the right moves.  It's just that they sometimes appear to be repeating already familiar lines vs. creating vibrant characters. This is especially true of Zach.

The one solo that needs to explode is "The Music and The Mirror," performed by Cassie. Nikki Snelson plays the role here, and while she's fine, she doesn't stop the show in a number that has to for the sake of the character and the story.

On the other hand, one performer who carves out his own niche is Kevin Santos (left) as the secretive Paul, the dancer who admits he once had to work in drag to make a living. 

I've seen several actors deliver the lengthy emotional speech that Paul has near the end of the show, and it can be very long in the hands of the wrong actor. Santos underplays it, which obviously works to his benefit, because you could have heard a pin drop during the speech on opening night.

Zach eventually weeds out the performers he wants from those he rejects (another emotional moment that works well), and the final eight -- four boys, four girls -- are given jobs. The lights dim, the performers disappear and yet another audition is over.

In a cap on the intermission-less evening, the cast quick-changes into shimmering gold outfits (top photo) to take their bows.  One by one they appear from the wings, tip their hat, and then join the line to do their singular sensation production number.

In their glittering top hat finery (and minus the signature outfits they've been wearing for the previous two hours), they lose all individuality. And they become one.

Which, to end where I began, is the point.

"A Chorus Line" is at The Opera House, 539 Washington Street in Boston, through October 5. For information, call Ticketmaster at 617-931-2787.

Production photo: Paul Kolnick

-- OnStage Boston

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