SCÈNE DISPATCH: On the Line in 1975
A black box, a white line, and the mirror: Broadway, truthful and taut.
Happy Monday, welcome to Mise-En-Scène, and a warm hello to all the new subscribers. Pull up a chair, because this edition has a little sweetness to it.
Today I’m experimenting with a new format called Scène Dispatch, a spotlight on the mise-en-scène of a creative work that has captured my imagination. If you’ve been riding with the newsletter since I launched it last December, you know the main objective is to spotlight interesting people and their cultural touchstones from film, TV, and the stage. Nonetheless, I’ve received feedback from several of you that you’d like to hear more from me about what I’m into, so I will oblige. I will send these Dispatches from time to time, between the more traditional features on creatives and their Mise-En-Scène selections.
I’m going to start with a stage work that I’ve been researching for several years now as part of a larger passion project. As you’ll soon read, there’s some spooky timing involved in sending this specific newsletter on this specific cultural piece today, which didn’t occur to me until I sat down to write. There are things even my freaky Virgo ass can’t plan for, and it’s not the first time I’ve encountered a “dancing ghost” throughout the course of this creative endeavor, which is one of the many reasons I keep at it. I simply feel I’m meant to be doing it.
Intrigued? Do scroll on.
It’s April 15th, 1975—exactly 49 years ago today. A Chorus Line is enjoying its first Off-Broadway bow onstage at the Newman Theater, one of five houses situated inside downtown New York’s The Public Theater. It’s the start of the show’s run of previews, and the response is immediate, rapturous. The glowing word-of-mouth sweeps over tables at Elaine’s and Joe Allen, and soon the cultural cognoscenti begins flocking to lower Manhattan to see what all the fuss is about. Movie stars, politicians, prominent writers, and moguls, from Al Pacino and Jackie Onassis to Kurt Vonnegut and Barry Diller, leave the theater in droves, euphoric over what they’ve witnessed onstage. A pregnant Diana Ross sits on the aisles of the Newman to take in what others are calling a different kind of show, something new and important; within the 299-seat space, there are simply no unclaimed spots left.
As an institution, The Public—founded by the visionary theatrical producer Joe Papp—has a 60-plus-year legacy of cultivating the American theatre canon; if you want to check its credentials, you can read up on the production histories of HAIR, which opened the then-new Public in October 1967, and Hamilton, which debuted there in winter 2015 (inside the Newman, actually; one of many parallels between that show and our subject). In between those two zeitgeist-shifting moments came A Chorus Line, a lightning-in-a-bottle show, recognized as the first “musical vérité,” human-scale musical theatre with a dash of documentary.
The setting? Per the original program, and every program since: “An audition. Time: Now. Place: Here.” The show’s spartan set reflected its content: A theater with a single white line snaking across its black stage. A line-up of lithe dancers outfitted in try-out ensembles, each one holding a glossy headshot in front of their dead-serious face. Stark, eerie, tense and vulnerable.
Conceived, directed, and choreographed by former chorus kid and theatre wunderkind Michael Bennett, the creation of A Chorus Line involved Bennett interviewing Broadway “gypsies,” workhorse dancers in musicals, on tape, and later, with his collaborators, turning their real stories into the story. So unusual for its time, the show’s origin has gone on to serve as grist for several books, a documentary, and a forthcoming Ryan Murphy miniseries; the process of bringing it to the stage was intensely collaborative, so much so that, as many theatre insiders would later point out, it’s no wonder speckles of its legacy are colored by disputes over who came up with what.
Just like the outlaw strain of Hollywood that thrived in the 1970s—raw, unvarnished, somewhat subversive but still widely palatable—A Chorus Line ushered a sensibility of championing the “here and now” in musical theatre, fixating on real dancers inside an audition and their desperation to land a job in what was then a limp industry croaking without dignity inside a blighted city. As the old adage goes, what began with specific circumstances vaulted into universal emotional territory, and everyday people—not just “showbiz folk”—saw themselves auditioning on that line, too.
When A Chorus Line premiered on the Great White Way a few months after its downtown run, in July 1975, it embedded itself into the Broadway firmament and became the lucrative, champagne-spangled force behind the industry’s turning point, as well as a major tourism driver for New York City. (Check the voice-over in the below TV commercial from 1979: “The reason for the line outside the theater? The line inside the theater.”) There were Tonys, a Pulitzer, and a deeply flawed 1985 movie adaptation starring Michael Douglas (I say this with love, but this version should not be your introduction to the story). The show was the populist center of a dance boom; dance studios went gangbusters and spandex flew off shelves. Up until the original production closed in April 1990, A Chorus Line was Broadway’s longest-running show. We’ve since experienced phenoms like Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, RENT and, yes, Hamilton, but none of these shows have placed the microscope over the very industry it was operating within like A Chorus Line. It’s the ultimate backstage musical, except the backstage is very much unfolding onstage, on that white line.
When A Chorus Line was still being developed downtown through a series of workshops, there was constant discussion between Bennett and his design team—costumer Theoni V. Aldredge, scenic designer Robin Wagner, and lighting designer Tharon Musser, all giants in their respective fields—about how the show would look and move.
A genius at staging movement, Bennett was notable for making an entire show “dance,” using fluid, cinematic transitions from one moment to the next. He obsessed over how to tell a story with as much impact as possible, never wasting a second, burrowing in the details. As Musser once recalled: “[Michael Bennett] used to bug the hell out of me with questions about gels and shading and this and that, like he had to know in a way no other director I had worked with before had to know.”1
A Chorus Line zeroes in on dialogue between the dancers and Zach, the almighty director-choreographer they’re auditioning for, and it also exposes the dancers’ innermost thoughts to the audience. Making these elements compelling onstage, in a way that befit the show’s bare and bold style, was paramount to the creatives involved. Describing the black box set-up of the show’s scenic design, Wagner said: “The set was conceived
with the essential elements of the dancer’s world in mind.”2 Aldredge’s costumes, lifted from dancers’ everyday apparel of unitards, sports varsities, jersey dresses and jazz shoes, were how the characters, who were auditioning for a nameless, faceless chorus, made known their individual identities. “It is much more difficult to do a rehearsal garment than it is to do a beaded dress,” explained Aldredge3. “I took it as a compliment if people thought, ‘Well, they’re wearing their own clothes.’ That is what it should look like.”
Lighting, in particular, was critical to Bennett, who, Wagner had said, “thought in terms of light.”4 On A Chorus Line, Musser, using the LS-8 control console, popularized the use of computerized lighting patterns onstage to visually plot the dancers’ internal psychologies and help the audience navigate when they were inside a dancer’s head versus back in reality, auditioning on the line. When designing the show’s lighting scheme, Musser relied on colors: “We used a deep lavender that has since been adopted by many other shows. Each character, with the exception of Bobby, had to have his or her own ‘inner thoughts’ light, and I decided to use ‘down’ lights instead of ‘face’ lights, to create off-colors.”5
I wonder about an alternative reality where A Chorus Line is dripping in the kind of Las Vegas pageantry alluded to in the show’s finale (no spoilers if you haven’t seen it, but it involves a famous kickline). This is partly why I feel the movie adaptation wasn’t successful: It tried, too hard, to make the impressionistic literal, and stripped the work of its elegiac intimacy. It is also the push-and-pull every iteration of the production that isn’t a straight reproduction must grapple with: To modify and acknowledge a modernized setting for our audition, or to leave as is, preserved in 1975 Broadway amber. I’ve seen many productions of A Chorus Line over the years—some stray from the original staging, to differing results, others are incredibly faithful, but also somewhat airless—and I’m still wrestling with my impressions.
Next year, 2025, marks the show’s 50th anniversary. There are rumors of a second Broadway revival (the first was in 2006). Will A Chorus Line take different steps and alter a revered formula? You know I’ll be the first in line to find out.
NATALIE GUEVARA RECOMMENDS
A Chorus Line aside, here are a few other cultural favorites I’ve been indulging in recently. (As always, no affiliate links used.)
Fara Homidi Essential Face Compact.
Natalie says: Fara Homidi doesn’t produce beauty products—they’re objets d’art, and they leave this Taurus Moon satisfied. Her latest product, the Essential Face Compact, is lacquered and sturdy. The concealer-foundation formula stealthily covers my red spots and discoloration, and the shine baume replicates my natural dewiness in the high points of my face. I don’t like to wear a lot of makeup, but I do need every product I use to look the best and be the best. Beauty, functionality, sustainability (you can re-use the compact and purchase a product refill), and pleasure in the ritual; that is what Fara Homidi delivers.The Immortal Icons of Dance podcast.
Natalie says: Lauryn Johnson, a dancer, content creator and dance archivist, takes a multidimensional approach to preserving dance history. I applaud her years of labor, research, and curiosity, all of which shine brightly in this podcast that features conversations with prominent dance world figures about iconic choreographers and dancemakers, from Martha Graham to Bob Fosse. I look forward to checking out Lauryn’s latest resource, The Vault.Fire Island Pines Historical Preservation Society.
Natalie says: Fire Island in the latter half of the 20th century is my version of Paris in the ‘20s or Ancient Egypt in the Nefertiti era. (Kindly note I’m resisting using the phrase “Roman Empire.”) I think about all that transpired there, from the euphoric to the devastating. Three hours fly by anytime I browse this resource or scroll through its Instagram. Mind you: Have I visited Fire Island, the actual place? No. I’m a straight woman and I’m deeply aware of (justified) “She Doesn’t Even Go Here!” complaints. But I can play a little Sylvester and dream.The Fan (1981), directed by Ed Bianchi.
Natalie says: I’ve known of this cult classic for years, but had not actually sat down to watch. A musical-SLASHER? What a concept. It finally had its way with me last week. I’m still reeling over those production numbers with Lauren Bacall. “No energy crisis / My professional advice is…” (What a coincidence, A Chorus Line collaborator Marvin Hamlisch also contributed two original songs to this movie. High and low!) I fear this is now part of my cultural vocabulary.Tahirah Hairston’s Ridiculous Little Things Substack.
’s new Substack about how people cultivate their taste is quality and has already exposed me to so much.
Natalie says: The Virgo in me notices when people put intention into whatever they produce.Hu Chocolate-Covered Chunks.
Natalie says: I’ve been a Hu head since they opened a physical location, Hu Kitchen, in New York in 2012 (it sadly closed during COVID, but the snacks live on). I also have a real addiction to raw cashews and chocolate, separately, so together, you know I’m flyin’ high. I live in a beach town in the Dominican Republic, and bougie organic treats are not the easiest to come by. I found this in the local grocery store the other day—thank G-d for the import/export business—and felt anointed.
That’s all for now! Thanks, as always, for reading.
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Be well. See you next time!
From One Singular Sensation: The Michael Bennett Story by Kevin Kelly, page 181 (originally published by Zebra Biography, 1991)
From A Chorus Line and the Musicals of Michael Bennett by Ken Mandelbaum, page 134 (originally published by St. Martin’s Press, 1989)
From A Chorus Line and the Musicals of Michael Bennett by Ken Mandelbaum, pages 134-135 (originally published by St. Martin’s Press, 1989)
From A Chorus Line and the Musicals of Michael Bennett by Ken Mandelbaum, page 135 (originally published by St. Martin’s Press, 1989)
From A Chorus Line and the Musicals of Michael Bennett by Ken Mandelbaum, page 135 (originally published by St. Martin’s Press, 1989)