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This is not to say that the production does not have its merits, because it certainly does. It is a visual treat. The original production was lauded for its revolutionary lighting design and staging, both of which have been faithfully recreated for audiences in 2006, and both of which never cease to amaze and capture the imagination.

During “Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love,” a veritable rainbow of colored lights shine onstage, giving each performer their own colored spotlight, reinforcing the song's theme of how puberty is both a shared and individual experience. Another staging highpoint occurs when Cassie (Charlotte d'Amboise) performs her spectacular and cathartic dance routine in “The Music and the Mirror,” where mirrors fly down from the rafters in a diagonal pattern, framing d'Amboise as she gives herself totally into dance.

As Cassie – the former rising-star seeking redemption and a career rebirth via a return to gypsy life with Zach, the director (Michael Berresse) who discovered her – d'Amboise does grab attention. However, it seemed that this was mostly because the audience knew beforehand that Cassie's story would be the main thrust of the show. The true surprises came from Deidre Goodwin, who envelops the role of Sheila with world-weariness and humor that grabs your attention, and Jessica Lee Goldwyn as Val, the proficient dancer who had a career transformation courtesy of plastic surgery.

A particular quirk with A Chorus Line is the character of Paul (Jason Tam), who is given a very intense and ostensibly moving monologue near the end of the show. In it, Paul shares with Zach his memories of sexual abuse in Times Square movie theatres, his first foray into dancing as a drag performer, as well as his own acceptance of his homosexuality. In 1975, these were very heady themes for a Broadway that had yet to see La Cage aux Folles and Tony Kushner's Angels in America plays.

Unfortunately, for this production, in keeping with the reality of 1975, it treats these themes as if they were still shocking. Paul's tale of personal triumph and acceptance is turned into one of pity that would be quite at home in a play like The Boys in the Band. ("How could I face my parents...dressed like..like that?" he wails in reference to his drag costume). Shortly thereafter, during "The Tap Combination," Paul injures himself and through overwrought tears and gasped breaths claims that he is all right.

In previous productions that I have seen, Paul is shown trying to pick himself up, refusing the aid of the other dancers, eager to work through the pain. Here, much like many depictions of gay characters in the past, Paul just sits there, barely holding back tears, completely relying on others for help. This choice runs contrary to all that Paul has said during his monologue and it also runs contrary to what audiences have seen of gay characters in the years since 1975. The production gives the audience Paul as a tragic, weak queen.

This revival of A Chorus Line is a rather strange creature. On one hand, it most certainly is as close as we can get to seeing the 1975 production without a time machine. On the other hand, by keeping itself firmly rooted in 1975 without any reason or purpose, it alienates newcomers from truly hearing its message of going out and pursuing your dreams no matter what the cost. In this version of A Chorus Line, the desire to be true to the original is not worth sacrificing the heart of the show itself.

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