There’s something sweet about seeing “A Chorus Line” in a warehouse dinner theater in Fort Collins, where the impossibly earnest, attractive and talented young ensemble is not yet as well-seasoned as the yummy chicken duxelles.
The Fort Collins youngsters dancing their hearts out at the Carousel Dinner Theatre are all at the very beginning of their dreams. But “A Chorus Line” is the world’s most celebrated window into the pathos of dancers because so many of the real people it’s based upon were so close to the end of theirs.
This is not a show about kids breaking into show biz. It’s about desperate veterans looking for one last shot before it’s too late for them. That’s an essential element for realizing the full emotional potential of this intensely personal and uncomfortably invasive Pulitzer-winning look at Broadway gypsies.
That’s just one of the risks in staging “A Chorus Line” to anything less than Broadway standards.
You always get the feeling watching this musical anytime, anywhere, that every last performer is having the creative experience of a lifetime. That’s absolutely the case here. But if we don’t believe that every last dancer in the cast is thisclose to the pinnacle of their profession, we can’t help but be reminded that we’re not in New York, but Fort Collins. Where every dancer survives the dramatic opening cut (“I Hope I Get It”), because, for understandable economic reasons, you can’t hire an extra two dozen dancers you won’t need again after the first number. (The Broadway cast was 30; here it’s 17). And where they have to add an unscripted intermission — because dessert must be served.
Director Kenny Moten Jr.’s staging plays like a sentimental valentine to dreamers of any ilk. The brilliance of the Marvin Hamlisch score (“One,” “What I Did for Love”) is undeniable. And that kinetic choreography? Get out of here. It’s great.
But performed at its best, “A Chorus Line” should also make you squirm.
It’s based on actual, confessional interviews that, in 1974, Michael Bennett turned into the story of a Broadway audition where, on this day, the dreamers will be pared to nine “winning” chorus dancers. Those who get cut will be devastated. Those who don’t will have a job — for maybe three months. So enjoy the vagaries while you can. It’s like “Survivor” — three decades early.
As we build toward imperious director’s Zach’s fateful decisions, he puts the candidates through far more grinding paces than just plies, taps and ball-changes. Zach (Ian Beutler) is a voyeur who probes every candidate for the most intimate and unique details of their lives — pathologically ironic, given that his mantra is for the chosen few to blend in. His goal is to achieve absolute, visual sameness. That works against Cassie, the former star (and former girlfriend) who’s attempting her comeback here, “on the line.”
Yet it’s always fun to “play director” and note who stands out in the crowd, which varies from one “Chorus Line” to another based on the magnetism of the individual dancers. And who that is each time often doesn’t follow the script.
At Carousel, you can’t help but be drawn to the crisp dancing of Sarah Ledtke’s Cassie and Alvaro Francisco’s Mark, not to mention the goofy sweetness of Emily Valley’s Judy and the provocative allure of Val (who sings the famously mistitled song about boob jobs).
Moten’s staging achieves the goal of affording a dinner- theater audience with an entertaining evening. The cast is charming, and the ensemble vocals are strong. The precision of the dancing is intermittently impressive (most fun is the montage to adolescence, “Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love”).
But, as a whole, it’s soft to the point of pinchable, when you want it to grab people by the throat. Director Zach is trying too hard to come off as somehow caring. And you’re just never quite convinced these are real, involuntary intimacies being revealed. You think these are stories being told to us by actors.
“Own it!” you want the director to shout at them (Moten or Zach, no matter).
They don’t seem to own it here so much as borrow it.
John Moore: 303-954-1056 or jmoore@denverpost.com
“A Chorus Line” **1/2 (out of four stars)
Musical presented by the Carousel Dinner Theatre, 3509 S. Mason St., Fort Collins. Directed by Kenny Moten Jr. Through June 26. 2 hours, 35 minutes with an intermission. 7:45 p.m. Thursday- Saturday; 1:45 p.m. Sunday (dinner 90 minutes before). $39-$44 plus desserts and upgrades. 970-225-2555 or
