It's a sobering thought to realize that the musical A Chorus Line, currently on stage at the Stratford Festival Theatre, is forty-one years old this month. Although many people disliked the film version, it was my first encounter with the show -- and I loved it for the snappiness of the lyrics and the catchy tunes ("One" remained lodged in my mind for weeks).
So I approached this production, my first viewing of the stage version, with a mixture of excitement, nostalgia, and wariness. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the show has not in the least become dated or a period piece. It's still as vibrant, living, and timely as the day it premiered.
As an ensemble, Stratford's cast is uncommonly rewarding. A requirement of the show's book and lyrics is that there be a mix of ages and body types, and yet all have to be able to dance at a high level. This company perfectly met the requirement in every way.
Another requirement is that a round dozen of these skilled dancers and singers have to get cut from the auditions after the first ten minutes of the show, and then do not reappear. This adds up to a very large company of twenty-nine excellent singers and dancers, all working on stage together during those first ten minutes.
Now plunk it all down on the small thrust stage of the Festival Theatre. Director and choreographer Donna Feore certainly has to function as a traffic cop during this opening number, and has achieved miracles by a small but significant expedient. The ramps up to the stage from under the audience seating have been filled in with platforms, which provide working spaces for the "director", Zach, and his assistant, "Larry" (played respectively by Juan Chioran and Stephen Cota). That frees the entire stage space for the dancers, and they certainly needed every inch of it. Feore is a true master of choreography on this unique and tricky stage, and it showed in every minute of the production.
Michael Gianfrancesco's set is simple, but does all that is needed. The back wall of the stage has been removed, and replaced with a series of revolving panels that have black-painted brickwork on one side and mirrors on the other. The panels are framed by steel towers and a steel lighting grid. On either side there are entrances, and performers can also enter and exit between the panels if they are revolved halfway.
The biggest problem of the show is a built-in hazard, and probably unsolvable. Voices of course are amplified, and that's where the trouble comes in. No matter where you stand on the stage of the Festival Theatre, some part of the audience can't see your face, and that makes it much harder to understand what an actor is saying or singing. A number of the songs include sections where the words fly out at a terrific clip -- patter songs, as they used to be called back in the day. In this theatre, it's very difficult to pick up all the words in those rapid sections. Pity, because the lyrics one does hear are both clever and thought-provoking.
One of the difficulties of reviewing a production of A Chorus Line is the problem of how to handle what is emphatically an ensemble show. Nobody "stars". Each character gets his or her few minutes in the spotlight and then supports each of the others in turn.
However, there were a few performances that definitely needed to be highlighted. Alexandra Herzog was hilarious as the tone-deaf Kristine. I've no doubt she's a fine singer, so here we get that always-delightful chance to hear a thorough professional do very badly something that she certainly knows how to do very well! (this is not as easy as it sounds!)
Julia McLellan made a hilarious Val -- sassy and sexy and funny as you could want in the infamous "Dance 10, Looks 3" monologue and song.
Ayrin Mackie threw attitude everywhere she went as Sheila, and then touched our hearts when she finally revealed something of herself with the song "At the Ballet".
Colton Curtis as Mark re-created the awkwardness of puberty very believably in the segment where he described how he thought he had gonorrhea.
There are three emotional high points in the show. Conor Scully as Paul was wonderful in his solo monologue about growing up, working a drag show, and coming to terms with being gay. The moment when he broke and began to weep was powerful indeed -- as was the sudden humanity shown by the hitherto-blunt Zach in reacting to him.
In the next segment, when Cassie (Dayna Tietzen) is confronted by Zach, and they hash out their previous relationship, we got a relative disappointment. Each of them does a fine job with their characters individually, but there was a constant air of awkwardness, almost contrived staginess, about this scene, apart from the awkward situation the two characters find themselves in. I could sense that this is meant to be a pivotal scene in the show but for me it never developed that kind of emotional oomph.
The scene where Paul injured himself and had to be taken to hospital, on the other hand, showed an almost shocking intensity. All the actors dug down very deep inside their characters here as they considered what they would do when they could no longer dance, and the audience became very quiet and focused on the revelation taking place before them.
Coming from that deep moment, the glorious impact of the finale of course is meant to lift everyone out of their seats. It was indeed spectacular. But I still felt a little bit let down overall, and I think it was the failure of the Cassie-Zach scene to really take off that made me feel that way.
In sum, a magnificent achievement on the levels of choreography, staging, and music. On the character front, things were a bit more uneven, although the best work was amazing. Still, for it's many strengths, this is definitely a show that's well worth seeing.
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