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'A Chorus Line': more than just one singular sensation

The 17 hopefuls who stand center stage right now at Culbreth Theatre are auditioning for eight spots (four women and four men) as members of the company of a new Broadway musical. These people do not anticipate ever playing a leading role on the Great White Way, but instead vie for a spot as background dancers and singers -- the cast members whose names audiences never learn and the biographies that go unread in the playbill.

"A Chorus Line" gives these performers a voice.

And what a voice it is. Director Robert Chapel's production recaptures much of the original magic of Michael Bennett's revolutionary musical. Bennett, who conceived, choreographed and directed the original "Chorus Line," dazzled the world of Broadway by turning a mirror on the community.

His exercise in self-examination, which went on to win the Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1975, is more than just an opportunity for the finest of singers and dancers to strut their stuff (though they definitely do that as well).

No, more than that, "A Chorus Line" finds these Broadway "gypsies," as they are known, forced to defend the value of their lives. As the characters tell their stories in turn, we realize that they thrive on the theater: Performance is their lifeblood. Zach (Brad Stoller) is not simply their casting director and choreographer; for all practical purposes, he is their God, passing judgment on each character as they knock on heaven's door.

The greatest compliment that can be paid to Chapel is that he manages to keep the quarter-century-old show remarkably fresh. John Loschmann's choreography never gets tired, and the cast is more than capable of handling Marvin Hamlisch's gorgeous score (with lyrics penned by Edward Kleban). And the ending, possibly the most simultaneously heartbreaking and triumphant moment in musical theater, is as riveting as ever.

Chapel's otherwise divine production errs with the casting of the drab Stoller, who in the opening night performance swallowed his lines and never demonstrated a presence strong enough to intimidate the stalwart gypsies. A better choice would have been to present Zach as a disembodied, offstage voice, thereby continuing to portray him as an omnipotent force.

The otherwise uniformly magnificent cast is largely responsible for giving life to the production. More than most musicals, "A Chorus Line" is an actor's show. Actually, it's a performer's piece -- it celebrates the world of theater as the lone place where people of all ages, races and personalities can harmoniously co-exist.

Although truly an ensemble effort, the show does have a heroine with whom the audience is supposed to empathize. Megan McNulty's Cassie is a faded flower, a former Broadway star whose career fizzled on the West Coast and who has returned to the stage looking for work of any kind.

McNulty's diminutive size works in her favor by adding to the sensation that Cassie might just be fighting a losing battle. We need to feel that Cassie's downward spiral can only be corrected by being cast in the fictitious musical. As McNulty flawlessly pirouettes her way through the marvelous "Music and the Mirror" number near the show's end, however, Cassie becomes a tad too angry and not quite desperate enough to fully draw us in.

The standout performances come from those playing the most richly written characters. Emily Swallow's age-embittered Sheila, fatigued and drug-dependent, is finally beginning to give up the idea of pursuing a career on the stage, and the amazing James Seol is pitch-perfect as Paul, the musical's tragic conscience.

Each member of the ensemble packs a wallop in his or her own nuanced way. It would be criminal not to praise Sarah Drew's delicate Maggie, Matt Garrity's rousing Matt or Joelle Heise's boisterous Judy.

Jeanette Byrd illuminates Culbreth with her breathtaking work as Morales, a dancer who can't act worth a lick (or, more to the point, thinks she can't.) Her showstopper, "What I Did For Love," is a spellbinding homage to what constantly draws these performers back to the rigors of a life in the theater: the undeniable link between passion and performance.

It's just that kind of passion that makes me want to go back and get in "Line" at Culbreth over and over again.

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