A Chorus Line
★★★★★ Incandescent
Festival Theatre: Tue 24 – Sat 28 Sept 2024
Review by Rebecca Mahar
Leicester-based producing theatre Curve brings the revival of its hit production of A Chorus Line to Edinburgh with the energy and honesty that defines this enduring classic, polished as bright as its iconic mirrors with fresh direction, design, and outstanding performances.
The show opens abruptly, thrusting the audience immediately into the middle of an intense dance audition for an unnamed Broadway show, each dancer vying for one of an unknown number of places in the chorus under the exacting eye of its director, Zach (Adam Cooper).
The concept of A Chorus Line necessitates that every member of its company is a dancer, and the opening number I Hope I Get It, shows their bona fides, precise and committed in the execution of its choreography, and of the mistakes the characters make – it takes great skill to look like you’re making a mistake when you aren’t.
After several rounds of dance combinations, Zach instructs the dancers to line up downstage, introduce themselves and talk about why they dance. Which is the essence of A Chorus Line: show-folk, baring their souls to try and get a job, never knowing which might be their last, or where the next is coming from, but refusing the give up on the dream.
clever camera work
Clever live camera work helps catapult this late-80s standard into the 21st century: inside the world of the audition, Zach’s assistant, Larry (Ashley-Jordan Packer) leads the hopefuls in combinations, then turns a camcorder on them to capture their introductions.
But it’s no ordinary camcorder: with the video feeding wirelessly to be projected onto a hanging flat, Packer skilfully manoeuvres carefully choreographed paths throughout the show to capture both the characters’ external performances, and windows into their inner lives.
Through this technique, we often see a pantomime of a character that is speaking, singing, or dancing facing downstage, while the character whose inner voice we are hearing faces and sings upstage, seen by the audience only on the video screen.
shows the edges
This videography also works to break down the barrier between the slick, polished show that an audience sees, and the work and details that go into making it. The camera shows the edges of lacefront wigs that are invisible from the audience, makeup designed to be seen from twenty-plus feet away, and the sweat of the performers’ labour.
Set design by Grace Smart works hard here as well, incorporating a row of rolling mirrors for dance work and a set of risers for auditionee seating, but also dressing up the stage as a backstage area. The scenic elements are augmented by use of the Festival Theatre itself: curtains are pulled up to expose lighting ladders, fixtures set on the floor, and the wings of the theatre where accoutrements of the tour are stored.
The crowning visual glory of this production is Howard Hudson’s lighting. Slick, precise, and meaningful in its every choice, the lighting design transports us from backstage, anxiously sweating in a line, wondering who will be next cut, to the internal fantasia of At the Ballet, an early number where Hudson really starts to show what he can do, and what’s to come.
fixtures of its time
Moving head and colour changing lights are paired with row on row of old school PAR can fixtures, which serve as both set dressing in and of themselves as well as lighting for the show; fixtures of its time, gradually fading out of popular use today.
As each number builds, it eventually seems that every batten at the Festival Theatre has been turned into an electric: flying in and out to provide simple but transformative effects, with all the PARs incandescing into glory during the finale.
The performances of the company are universally excellent, standing up to all the design and technical wonder around them. Dressed in Edd Lindley’s 80s-era costumes that run the gamut from high-cut leotards to jeans and flannel (to dance in! but realistically representative of choices seen in real-life audition rooms), the company power through a non-stop stop show.
precision and verve
That’s almost two hours of being onstage nearly the whole time, jumping from stillness to high energy dance, tight harmonies – and sometimes both together – with precision and verve.
Each actor takes a turn exploring their character’s history, motivations, and trauma; why they are who they are, and what they do. Each does so with breathtaking honesty, whether it’s the lack of a good singing voice, anxiety over aging into one’s 30’s, or the revelation of childhood abuse.
As Sheila, Amy Bryant excels at putting up a hard, but clearly defensive, exterior, through the cracks of which we glimpse her softer, passionate interior in At the Ballet, where “it wasn’t paradise, but it was home”.
masterfully delivered
Manuel Pacific’s Paul San Marco is intensely vulnerable, and his monologue, often considered the climax of the show, masterfully delivered. Carly Mercedes Dyer as Cassie perfectly balances strength, desperation, and determination; commanding the stage with her presence and poise, emotional depth, and powerhouse vocal performance.
Jocasta Almgill, too, is a vocal and acting standout, highlighting the flaws of establishment actor training and the games show-folk must play to do what they love for a living. These are but a few of the show’s highlights; every member of the company deserves special mention.
In his essay The Ring of Time, E.B. White wrote: “Under the bright lights of the finished show, a performer need only reflect the electric candle power that is directed upon him; but in the dark and dirty old training rings and in the makeshift cages, whatever light is generated, whatever excitement, whatever beauty, must come from original sources — from internal fires of professional hunger and delight, from the exuberance and gravity of youth”.
A Chorus Line exemplifies those dark and dirty training rings, those unseen spaces behind the dazzle of a performance, the figurative combustion of stars — sometimes with a real human cost — that births a show.
blinding illumination
Like a tungsten lamp that incandesces into blinding illumination to reveal a performance, then fades into a deep amber glow when its purpose is done, lingering a moment beyond its time, A Chorus Line offers a glimpse behind the curtain at the sweat, the heartache, and the magic of what we do for love.
Running time: One hour and 50 minutes (no interval)
Festival Theatre, 13-29 Nicolson Street, EH8 9FT
Tue 24 – Sat 28 September 2024
Daily: 7:30pm, Thurs, Sat mats: 2:30pm.
Tickets and details: Book here.
Accessible performances: Thurs 26 at 7:30pm is a captioned performance; Sat 28 at 2:30pm offers BSL interpretation, audio description, and a Touch Tour.
ENDS