A Theatre Monolith: A Review of A Chorus Line at the 5th Avenue Theatre

The opening lyrics to A Chorus Line, “I really need this job, please God I need this job, and when I get this job!” have been the rallying cry of performers across the globe since its debut in 1975. The show offers a sneak peek behind the velvet curtain, into the glitzy and sometimes not-so-glamorous lives of performers. The 5th Avenue Theatre’s production that ran from September 15-27 gave Seattle audiences a sharp and drilled performance—one that will be hard to forget.

A Chorus Line follows the story of a Broadway chorus audition turned into an oddly personal job interview. The fictional show's director, Zach (Brandon O’Neill), picks the seventeen best dancers from an audition and asks them personal questions to find out what makes each one of them tick. The answers offered, along with the tone of the show, widely differ between dancers. The ecstatic “I Can Do That” tells the story of Mike (Alessandro J. Lopez) and how he began dancing, while “At the Ballet” is a semi-sweet ballad shared by three women, Sheila (Tori Gresham), Bebe (Emily Brooks), and Maggie (Kayla Pecchoni), about how dancing gave them a space to escape from their dysfunctional families.

While each character may not get a solo song or a lengthy dramatic monologue, we learn about everyone extensively through the “Montage” halfway through the show. It is here that we see the standout aspect of The 5th’s production: the choreography. Choreographer and director Dennis Jones merges the original Broadway choreography created by Michael Bennett with his own nimble style, ending up with a wonderful collaboration between the music and physical elements of the show, which highlight the songs and performers very well. Dennis Jones achieves, as Jesse Green of The New York Times puts it in his review of NYCC’s revival production, “[An] irising effect on an individual or pan to the entire ensemble… a rhythm of revelation more akin to film than theater.”

While the choreography is amazing, it is nothing without the book and music, which have been hailed for years. Most people recognize the show's closing number, “One,” for its elated brass and tight harmonies. Other songs like “The Music and the Mirror” and “What I Did For Love” show the versatility of composer Marvin Hamlisch. The former doubles as a triumphant dance solo from Cassie (Sara Esty). The book supports every aspect of the show with cry-worthy monologues and hysterical conversations. All three aspects work in collaboration to create a piece of theatre that has stood the test of time. 

A Chorus Line is a bittersweet self-portrait of great proportions. After learning about the hopes, struggles, and dreams of each character, in the end we are slapped in the face by the reality that most dancers will be rejected. Characters give gut-wrenching monologues and cathartic and triumphant dances, just for the final song, “One,” to be about a nameless lead, with the characters we spent the last two hours with, anonymized in glittery costumes, identically kicking. The feeling of sonder is evoked: the realization that everyone other than yourself has a complex, unique, and vivid life. It is a hard pill to swallow, yet one we must recognize to grasp the extent of work and disappointment performers put themselves through just so they can do what they love.

I personally resonated with A Chorus Line because of my active role in theater. Yet, at times the show made me confront my future with themes of job insecurity, injuries, and performance anxiety. I applaud the A Chorus Line along with The 5th’s creative team for evoking my emotions and most likely those of every other performer who saw or was in the show. 

The only gripe I have with the show is the extremely short run of a little over two weeks. This has become a concerning trend in theatre, musical or not. 

The 5th Avenue Theatre’s production may have closed, but the themes it brought up do not disappear. A Chorus Line is for anyone who has bared their life for a job, for the performers who remain nameless even after the applause, and for anyone who can sit with the hard truth that loving the work does not guarantee you get to keep doing it.