Arvada goes beautifully spare with “A Chorus Line”
Admired for its consistently rich production values, the Arvada Center has gone beautifully spare with its season opener, “A Chorus Line,” winner of the 1976 best musical Tony and eight more.
Director-choreographer Michael Bennett’s tribute to the dancers who make up Broadway’s backbone, its companies, unfolds on a bare stage. A Broadway director, Zach, is auditioning performers (“interrogates” might be more apt). Stephen Cerf gives rich voice to the impresario who is for most of the show heard, but not seen. He is an off-stage demi-god, making demands from beyond the footlights.
As two dozen performers strut and fret, their anxieties are captured in “I Hope I Get It.” The actors, in chorus and solo, sing “God, I hope I get it. I hope I get it. How many people does he need?” Their clamor builds as they’re put through the paces by Zach’s more gentle assistant. Their voices meld in worry. And it’s hard to land on any one performer as the focal point, as the star, as the “singular sensation.”
That’s the musical’s enduring triumph. Over the course of two lovely, uninterrupted hours, those performers who make it to the callback step out of the line
to become real to us, to be known. Most of their revelations take place in the intricately woven, brilliantly sustained, four-part “Montage” composed of “Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love,” “Nothing,” “Mother” and “Part IV” — a number that begins with a randy tale of adolescent sexual awakening.
The Arvada Center’s victory lies in introducing new faces to its audience and giving big moments to familiar players. Directed by Rod A. Lansberry, the cast consistently hits funny or tender, brazen or bitter notes.
There’s Connie (Rae Leigh Case), the petite spark plug from Chinatown who wanted to be a ballerina but stopped growing at 4-foot-10. There’s statuesque Sheila, played by Radio City Rockette Katie Mitchell in her Arvada Center debut. She underscores the ways in which a striking pose and brilliant smile can be well-burnished armor. Tone-deaf Kristine and melodious hubby Al (Seles Vanhuss and Zac Norton) make clever work of “Sing!” And as Diana, Natalie Kay Clater’s rendition of “Nothing” — about one drama teacher’s attempts to squash her desire — is the best revenge.
Choreographed by Arvada’s Kitty Skillman Hilsabeck, the dancing is often sharp. As a tyke, blue-collar Mike (P. Tucker Worley) tagged along with his sister to her dance lessons. “I Can Do That,” he declared then — and does with muscular vigor. Brisk, bold dancer Michael Canada crushes it as Richie. He “gotta scholarship to college” but wonders where’s that elusive “scholarship to life.” The dancing goes just as it should, from mildly out of sync to precisely blended as the performers coalesce.
Each character has his moment. “A Chorus Line” provides us with a narrative perhaps fitting for the age of selfies and more vexing versions of narcissism. Forget Andy Warhol’s “15 minutes of fame” for a moment. We humans are part of a vast ensemble — but with individual yet resonating stories to share.
This tango of between being “part of” and “apart from” is embodied in Cassie (Dayna Tietzen), the Broadway vet who was enough of a star to give it a try in Los Angeles. Cassie and Zach have history. What Zach wants for her clashes with what she now wants for herself. The music for “The Music and the Mirror” hasn’t aged particularly well. It’s sounds so Studio 54. But the lyrics, well, they are the stuff of workers everywhere, from aging dancers to coal miners to print journalists.
For extra credit — or better, extra pleasure — stream “Every Little Step,” the documentary about the casting of the 2006 Broadway revival. Dancer-singer Donna Mckechnie, who originated the role and was a the model for Cassie, is one of its wise interviewees.
Musical showstoppers typically go big and bold, glittery or aching. Ironically “A Chorus Line,” brings things to a vital halt with a hushed reversal. Standing alone on stage, hands thrust into the pockets of his orange sweat jacket, Paul is the last performer to tell Zach his “why dance?” story.
Local actor Jake Mendes imbues believable grief into Paul’s stirring confession of sexual revelation and artistic refuge, his story of shame and acceptance. It isn’t a song-anddance number at all — though it may do a number on your emotions.