You may recognise the feeling. Having loved a production for decades, your expectation is that any new interpretation won’t come close to the standard of that original. I saw the first West End production of A Chorus Line, which opened just a year after the Broadway premiere in 1975, several times, and of course – along with the rest of the world – the Richard Attenborough film of 1985. It is among my favourite musicals of all time.
The first, and most important, observation to report is that this production, created in 2021 for the Curve in Leicester, is a thrilling new interpretation of this masterpiece of musical theatre. I absolutely loved it and, judging by the reaction of the packed audience, that sentiment was universal.
A Chorus Line is the clearest example of art imitating theatrical life through Michael Bennett’s forensic, although highly unusual, examination of the audition process. Bennett developed his idea through two sessions of alcohol-fuelled, post-midnight recordings of the life experiences of Broadway “gypsies”, the term given to chorus line performers who jumped from show-to-show.
Bennett’s concept hit the heights with an outstanding songbook from Marvin Hamlisch (lyrics by Edward Kleban) in which every song is memorable not just for its own sake but for their collective summation of the hopes and fears of these auditionees. It’s also a show that builds to a coruscating and uplifting climax, helped by not having an interval, through the show-stopping coupling of the rich ballad What I Did for Love, sang here with immense power and range by Jocasta Almgill as Diana Morales and the scintillating finale in sparkling gold suits, top hats, glitter and fireworks of One (“singular sensation”), which was frankly as good as it could be.
A silver-foxed Adam Cooper took the central role of director Zach (created onstage by Robert LuPone and by Michael Douglas on film), giving yet more evidence of a world-class dancer now morphing into a career as an outstanding actor in musical theatre. I was especially impressed by the continuing background intensity of his characterisation when the spotlight was elsewhere. The dance is still there in a wistful solo, partnering a top hat, just prior to the finale, a psychological reminiscence of Zach’s performance life (one imagines this as a reflection of Bennett’s own transition from dancer to director – he died of an AIDS-related illness at the age of 44).
Ellen Kane choreographed this production, assisted by Lisa Welham and Jonathan Goddard, now revived by Katie Lee, who played the scatter-brained Kristine Ulrich – “the one who can’t sing”, and the ensemble dance sequences are as exceptional as they have to be to make realistic both the aspirational audition sequences and the show finale. The synchronisation of the dancers was excellent.
It's a show in which every one of the 17 hopefuls gets a chance to shine in the number assigned to their back story and inevitably some of the cast were more memorable than others, in direct correlation with either the power of their story or Hamlisch’s music. In addition to the aforementioned Almgill (the show’s singular singing sensation), Chloe Saunders delivered humour in the role of Val Clarke who couldn’t get a job until she had plastic surgery to give her the “tits” that she needed; Amy Thornton brought the world-weary cynicism of Sheila Bryant; Joshua Lay was duly protective as Al Deluca, Kristine’s hunky husband; Rachel Jayne Picar was suitably cute as the diminutive and ageless Connie Wong; and the sad monologue of Manuel Pacific as Paul San Marco, the gay Puerto Rican dancer who encounters his parents at the stage door after his show as a drag queen, was fittingly poignant.
I have fond memories of Carly Mercedes Dyer as Erma in Anything Goes at The Barbican and her performance as Zach’s former lover, Cassie, a Broadway star slipping down the casting hierarchy towards the chorus, ironically continues the upward trajectory of her own career. There wasn’t a weak link in the whole cast, including Ashley-Jordon Packer as Zach’s dutiful assistant, Larry.
It is certainly true that A Chorus Line is of its time and the dialogue is dated with references to long-forgotten film stars such as Troy Donahue, George Hamilton, Jill St John and Anna Mae Wong. But it is also a work of some significant social and historic significance in documenting a time when the closet door was beginning to open.
My only concern about this staging is that, seated in the first circle, the lighting rigs often obscured part of the real-time film projections of the performers, which were especially crucial when they were facing upstage. This would not have been noticeable in the stalls, but it was a minor irritation to anyone in the upper tiers.
Nonetheless, nothing could detract from the overall excellence of this production. It runs at Sadler’s Wells until 25 August, and it promises to be one of the most memorable shows in this London summer. I strongly advise getting a ticket , although go for the stalls if you can!
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