One of my earliest memories when I was coming out as a teenager was seeing a touring production of A Chorus Line in Milwaukee. It was very raw and emotional, not like other musicals I had seen, which capitalized on the fantasy and fairy-tale world of Broadway. A Chorus Line was reality as a musical. Not since the original production has there been a show that so blended reality with the dream world of the musical. It dealt with homosexuality, dreams deferred, and the harsh sting of trying to fight for those dreams. The well-known song from the show, “One,” always stood out because it was in such stark contrast from the other songs in the show; songs defiantly grounded in reality.

Therefore, it came as quite a surprise to me when I saw the current revival of A Chorus Line which takes this emotional heart and keeps it set in 1975, without giving the audience a reason why. The costumes are from 1975, the orchestration is from 1975, the staging is from 1975, and of course, the dialogue is entirely from 1975. This would not be so notable, except that playing nearby is the long-running revival of Chicago, another musical from 1975, which manages to still be topical and relevant in 2006, even though its source material is from the 1920's.

Both shows comment on society and its inherent cruelty. In the case of Chicago, it's the crassness of media-driven celebrity, and with A Chorus Line, how fickle society can be to those who pursue their dreams. For all its faults and stunt casting, Chicago wins this battle because its presentation is timeless while A Chorus Line gives us 1975 served up like an oldies radio station.

Therein lays the fault with this production. The original production was based upon the observations of Broadway dancers from 1974, a time when Broadway had recently begun its slide into relative non-influence upon pop culture. Near the end of the show, a dancer comments that Broadway is dying and that “they aren't doing big musicals anymore.”

Bebe (Alisan Porter), a 20 year old dancer, quickly responds that she doesn't want to hear talk of Broadway dying, since she “just got here.” She makes an excellent point. To this very day, thousands of young twenty-something dancers, actors, singers, songwriters, and playwrights pour into New York to make it in the world of theatre. This revival of A Chorus Line could very well speak to them (and the rest of us), but it doesn't.

To those who would seek strength and advice from those gypsies of 1974, it presents them as a choreographed museum piece, taking away the power of seeing their lives onstage. It is rather hard to take in the seriousness of what is being said, when the person saying it is wearing polyester pants last seen being worn by John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

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