Every Little Step

The documentary Every Little Step is about dancers auditioning for a role in a musical that's about dancers auditioning for a role in a musical. How meta!

Filmmakers Adam Del Deo and James Stern took their cameras inside auditions for the Broadway revival of A Chorus Line, which opened in 2006 and ran for two years. It's the part of putting on a show that you don't normally get to see but in an unprecedented uh, step, they received special permission from Actors Equity.

More than 2,000 dancers auditioned, some from as far away as Australia, for 19 roles. Watching them leap and pirouette reminded me how much the big chorus numbers are part of what I love about Broadway musicals.

As several actors recited the same lines one after another I couldn't even imagine how nerve-wracking it must have been for them, performing in front of people like Bob Avian, co-choreographer of the original Broadway production, and Baayork Lee, the original Connie.

I wish the filmmakers had spent a little more time on some of the individual stories of the people who came to audition. We know they've been dancing since they were kids and can't imagine doing anything else, but not much more.

And of course, they're all talented dancers. As Lee says in an interview on the dvd's extras, "If I had to audition for the show now, I would never get in."

What I enjoyed most about Every Little Step was the way it alternates taking us inside the audition room with telling us the story behind the musical.

A Chorus Line, which opened on Broadway in 1975 and ran for 15 years, grew out of taped sessions with those normally anonymous "gypsies," the dancers who populate Broadway's chorus lines and move from show to show.

And it was great to hear from some of the people who helped create the musical - including composer Marvin Hamlisch, actress Donna McKechnie, who played Cassie, and on video, the late director/choreographer Michael Bennett.

One of the most touching characters - and one of the hardest to cast - is Paul, a young Puerto Rican dancer and drag performer based on the late Nicholas Dante, who won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award as the cowriter of A Chorus Line.

First, we hear Dante's voice on that original tape recording telling his story. Then, we see Sammy Williams perform the role on Broadway in a Tony-winning turn and finally, we watch Jason Tam, who would play Paul in the revival, during his audition.

That part of Every Little Step is so effective in the way it brings together the past and the present so poignantly. Avian and his colleagues are fighting back tears as Tam recites Paul's monologue. It gave me a real sense of how much A Chorus Line means to everyone involved with it.

A Chorus Line

Gratuitous Violins rating: **1/2 out of ****

The first time I saw A Chorus Line, back in the late 1970s in Boston, I didn't know much about chorus lines. Now, I'm more familiar with those unsung performers, the Broadway "gypsies" whose dancing contributes so much to the electricity of musical theatre.

This is a show that tells the stories of those dancers - their childhoods, their hopes and fears, their experiences - as they audition for a Broadway musical. With a song whose lyrics include "I really need this job. Please God, I need this job," it's also a show that resonates in these dire economic times.

So, I should have loved the touring production of A Chorus Line a lot more than I did. Don't get me wrong, I liked it. I just didn't love it. There were parts I thought were great - especially the ensemble numbers, "I Hope I Get It" and "One," where everyone's singing and dancing.

But when the dancers lined up to be interviewed by Zach, the gruff director-choreographer played by Sebastian La Cause, the results were mixed.

(And where is Zach? For most of the show, he's a disembodied voice. I wasn't sure whether he was sitting in a seat in the front of the theatre or reading his lines from offstage or whether they just use a tape recording.)

Zach doesn't just want to see them dance. He wants to hear them talk - about their careers, their childhoods, why they became dancers. Their answers, sometimes painful at other times funny, are based on taped interviews with veteran Broadway performers.

For me, A Chorus Line worked best when the stories were poignant. I especially liked Kevin Santos as the sweet and soft-spoken Paul, recounting his days as a drag queen. And Robyn Hurder was great as the toughened veteran Cassie, who's left her chorus days behind for bigger roles but is now so desperate for work she wants to return, even though she doesn't really belong there anymore.

I think they're the most fleshed-out stories and they just got to me more than some of the lighthearted ones, like Jessica Latshaw as the scatter-brained Kristine in "Sing," and Mindy Dougherty as the buxom Val in "Dance: Ten; Looks: Three." They seemed a little over the top.

And while some of dancers were supposed to be in their late 20s and early 30s, sometimes they seemed like nervous kids rather than experienced performers who'd been through this process before. I couldn't shake the feeling that too often, I was hearing people performing rather than truly baring their souls. Maybe that was the point.

Also, I think the show is supposed to run 2 hours without an intermission. The performance I saw was a little longer and parts of it dragged. I know this is musical theatre blasphemy but I even got a little bored during Cassie's extended dance sequence in "The Music and the Mirror."

But when the dancers form a chorus line, I felt a little of that thrill I feel when I watch a tightly choreographed Broadway musical number. You know what, it's exciting. And I'm always amazed at how well it comes together, how easy and effortless they make it look.

Now, I have a little bit of an insight into the men and women - boys and girls in Broadway lingo - who make up those chorus lines, and I appreciate what they do even more.

The original production of A Chorus Line, directed and choreographed by Michael Bennett, with a score by Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban, opened on Broadway in 1975, in the middle of a recession. The show became a huge hit, racked up a slew of awards and ran for 15 years. It's also a musical based on an original idea, a pretty novel concept these days.

Even though it's no longer a singular sensation and maybe it's getting a little flabby it's still an important, groundbreaking show. And hey, I'm not a kid anymore either. A Chorus Line was the first Broadway musical I ever saw. After all these years, I'm glad I was able to visit with it again.

Thoughts on an afternoon at the theatre

I'm working on my review of A Chorus Line at the Providence Performing Arts Center but first let me make a few observations.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed like there was quite a bit of food being consumed by people sitting in the row in front of me. Don't they realize those crinkly wrappers make noise?

Second, there's no intermission. That means lots of people getting up to go to the bathroom, then returning to their seats. I think the musical is supposed to be 2 hours but it ran a little longer. There should be a rule: If you're going over 90 minutes, you must include an intermission.

Third, I'm assuming the people sitting next to me suddenly became violently ill or had to go really bad (totally understandable) once the show ended. Otherwise I can't see any justification for leaving while the actors are asking for donations to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.

I'm sure the people who left didn't realize it, but the musical's original director and choreographer, Michael Bennett, died of AIDS, as did James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, who wrote the book. In any case, it would have been respectful if they'd stayed. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they weren't aware of the traditional BC/EFA appeal or maybe there truly was an emergency.

And I know times are tough so I appreciate the way the pitch was presented: If everyone just gives a dollar, we can raise $2,000 this afternoon. Perfectly reasonable.

So when the tour comes to your town people, please stay seated during the BC/EFA appeal. And bring an extra dollar. If you can spare $10, you'll get a nifty bag that says A Chorus Line right on it - perfect for carrying around your gym clothes.

Okay, end of rant.

Now, one funny thing. As I was walking out, someone behind me said she was disappointed in the show. "I thought it would be more like 42nd Street."

It's the best musical. Ever.

I'm psyched about seeing A Chorus Line on tour this weekend for two reasons.

It was the first Broadway musical I ever saw. (Not to be confused with the first musical I saw on Broadway, which would be Curtains.) It was in Boston, either in the fall of 1977 or the winter of 1978, when I was a freshman in college.

And it's The Best Musical. Ever. Really, it is. That's what it says on the show's promotional material. I've been trying to find out who dubbed A Chorus Line The Best Musical. Ever. It's not easy. Most of the stories that come up on a Google search simply accept the statement as fact.

I'm not begrudging A Chorus Line any of its glory. It's certainly a highly acclaimed musical, winning nine Tony Awards in 1976, as well as the 1975 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. In 1983, it became the longest-running show in Broadway history, closing on April 28, 1990, after 15 years and 6,137 performances. The Broadway revival ran for nearly two years.

I hadn't listened to the original Broadway cast recording for years but I picked it up again a short time ago and I'd forgotten how incredibly poignant it is, listening to these dancers tell the stories of their lives. So after 30-plus years, I'm ready to put on my top hat and see it again.

Still, I'm curious how A Chorus Line got that label. It's such a bold statement that doesn't leave open much room for argument. I thought maybe it came from the 1975 New York Times review, written by Clive Barnes. Nope. Although Mr. Barnes did have some very complimentary things to say about the show - the cast was "100 percent marvelous."

Now I'm thinking maybe it comes from something in the show, a song lyric or line of dialog. Maybe it's a clever marketing idea or maybe some critic really did use that phrase. Maybe it's obvious to everyone but me. Hopefully it will all become clear on Sunday afternoon.

The man who saved Broadway

One of the reasons I love New York so much is that I can spend all day walking around sightseeing (and I mean all day), then enjoy great theatre at night before heading back to my hotel feeling completely safe in Times Square.

This week, reading some of the obituaries for Gerald Schoenfeld, longtime head of The Shubert Organization who died Tuesday at 84, reminded me that 30 years ago, the area wasn't nearly as welcoming. I wouldn't have felt nearly as comfortable.

And Schoenfeld, for decades one of the most influential figures on Broadway, was one of the people who helped change that. (Although I guess Disney also had a lot to do with the resurgence of a safer and more G-rated Times Square.)

I didn't want to let Schoenfeld's passing go without mention. He's credited, literally, with saving Broadway through three shows that became hits at Shubert theatres: Pippin, Equus and most importantly, A Chorus Line.

In his tribute, former Times drama critic Frank Rich writes that Schoenfeld and his Shubert partner, Bernard Jacobs, "saved New York’s commercial theater industry — and, implicitly, Times Square — when everyone else had left it for dead."

If you watch the segment on A Chorus Line from the PBS documentary Broadway: The American Musical you'll hear narrator Julie Andrews talk about how New York, like the rest of America, was in a recession in the early 1970s, and the Great White Way was hit especially hard.

"This area in the '70s was a sewer," Schoenfeld says of Times Square. "This was the den of pornography, prostitution, felony crime, drug dealing, you name it."

What Broadway needed was a hit, and it found one in A Chorus Line, the late choreographer Michael Bennett's musical about the lives and aspirations of Broadway dancers. And it was a musical based on an original idea - imagine that!

A Chorus Line began downtown at The Public Theater before transferring to Broadway's Shubert Theatre. It opened in July 1975 and stayed there for over 15 years, breaking all existing box office records. (And I was thrilled earlier this month to make my first visit to the legendary Public Theater where, in addition to A Chorus Line, Hair and many other Broadway shows got their starts.)

"Michael Bennett and A Chorus Line totally changed the musical theater," Schoenfeld said in the PBS documentary. "It really saved the financial fortunes of the Shubert organization. It was a catalyst for the improvement of this area. And of course this area now is the most desirable area in New York."

The Times obituary notes that Schoenfeld ran the Shubert organization, which owns and operates 17 Broadway theatres as well as others around the country, with a combination of "combativeness and charm," and gives some examples of each trait. I guess the combativeness part isn't surprising. Like Debra Monk's character, Broadway producer Carmen Bernstein, sang in Curtains, "It's a business."

I liked this remembrance, from Oskar Eustis, the Public's artistic director, who recalls that Schoenfeld was a champion of last season's rock musical Passing Strange. The show didn't turn out to be a hit but was certainly one of my most unique Broadway experiences. I'm so glad I saw it and I'm glad there was a place for it on Broadway, if only for a short time.

"I watched him fall in love with Stew and Passing Strange last year, and it was all the more beautiful because it was obvious even Jerry couldn't really explain why this story of a young African-American artist from Los Angeles moved him so much. (The closest he came was to describe their similar waistlines: 'Mesomorphs have to stick together.') But what he loved, he supported, and Passing Strange would never have gone to Broadway without him."

What comes through in all of the tributes is Schoenfeld's philosophy that nothing sold Broadway better than a great show and if audience members enjoyed themselves, they'd be back. As producer Elizabeth McCann said, "he believed in the theatre."

Over the past two years, I've seen 33 Broadway shows. I still love walking around Times Square, gazing up at the giant billboards and taking pictures of the marquees all lit up. I'm always excited when I come to Broadway and I always leave eager to return.