Marvin Hamlisch and the Music of A Chorus Line:
When Marvin Hamlisch signed on to compose the music of A Chorus Line, he was already such a name that it’s easy to forget this was also his first Broadway Score. Hamlisch had been one of those teen phenomenon’s of the Brill Building school, writing the not-bad-at-all “Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows” for Lesley Gore when he was 16. He made the most of some movie connections and began writing film scores (over 40 motion picture scores), including, memorably, Woody Allen’s Take the Money and Run and Bananas, before striking it rich with the theme song (and Barbra Streisand standard) from The Way We Were. That won him his first Oscar; the second came for his adaptation of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” in The Sting. Marvin Hamlisch is one of only twelve people to win all four major US performing awards, Emmy Award, Grammy Award, the Oscar and Tony Award. (See List of people who have won an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony Award. He and Richard Rodgers are the only two to have won all four of those plus a Pulitzer Prize. He holds the position of principal pops conductor with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, D.C. Mr. Hamlisch is a graduate of both the Juilliard School of Music and Queens College.
Background Story of A Chorus Line:
Every kid who ever came to New York to work in and around the theater, or anybody who dances for a living in that milieu, will immediately connect with the stories of the characters of A Chorus Line, and upon listening to them will say, “That’s me.” In 1974 Director-Choreographer Michael Bennett tape-recorded the reminiscences of a group of “gypsies”- Broadway chorus dancers, eight of whom would be a part of this original cast- bought the rights to those stories, and convinced Joseph Papp of the non-profit Public Theater to bankroll a workshop that would develop them into a stage musical. What emerged was a show with no stars, no set, and almost no plot. This struck people as daring in 1975; given what’s been on the Broadway stage in the intervening two decades, “astounding” seems more like it. So much has been written about Papp’s contributions to the theater, but this is all you really need to know: With a non-profit company that was a million and a half dollars in the red, he put up half a million more for no starts, no set, etc., and a creative team which, aside from Bennett, had virtually no track record in the theater. And it worked, and the profits funded the Public’s other work for 15 years. It just about restores your faith in miracles; when you realize that nothing like it has happened since, you see how miraculous it was. Bennett began pulling together his irregulars at that first taping, offering them a dazzling hundred dollars a week to do the workshop. Nicholas Dante, the original author, was one of those dancers; his recollections form the basis of Paul, the gypsy who debuted in a drag show. James Kirkwood, a novelist and playwright who had been an actor, was brought in to condense, edit, and dramatize.
Awards for A Chorus Line:
A Chorus Line won everything: the Pulitzer Prize, the New York Drama Critics Award, and nine Tonys, including best musical, two for Bennett (choreography and direction), score, book, and cast members Donna McKechnie (as Cassie Ferguson), Sammy Williams (as Paul San Marco) and Carole (Kelly) Bishop (as Sheila Bryant). For once, the nobodies- the people in the back, behind the startriumphed!
Web Links:
www.marvinhamlisch.com www.musicals101.com www.wikipedia.org www.lortel.org
The Story of A Chorus Line & Song Breakdown:
No curtain, a bare stage with a line painted across it, a dance mirror that comes and goes. Final auditions for dancers in a never-named Broadway show. 24 hopefuls will be cut down to eight, four “boys” and four “girls.” And that’s the suspense, sort of like The Towering Inferno without the special effects, wondering if your favorite will be picked off. I Hope I Get It: The only background you need is that the market for New York show dancers is (was, always will be) drying up. Age and injuries give these “kids” the professional lifespan of a pro football player. They live on part-time jobs and unemployment checks. No wonder each is secretly chanting “I Hope I Get It.” Zach will make the choices. Looks and dance are what count, but he also wants (as never in real auditions) to know something about each of the dancers. The dancers can’t believe it; they don’t want to talk about themselves; but one by one, under pain of dismissal, they tell their stories. I Can Do That: Mike is an Italian kid from Trenton, NJ. He tagged along to his sister’s dance classes, told himself “I Can Do That.” At The Ballet: For a lot of the women, it started with ballet lessons, which provided either a refuge from a substitute for what was going on at home or, as Sheila, Bebe and Maggie tell us: “At The Ballet.” Sing: Al and Kristine are husband and wife. Al habitually finishes her sentences. Like everyone else, Kristine always dreamed of seeing herself in the movies, but as Doris Day, not Ann Miller. The only problem is, she can’t “Sing.” Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love: The conversation turns to sex, love, growing up, in “Montage” (a.k.a. “Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love”), in which nearly everyone participates. Nothing: Preceded by the story of Diana Morales a girl from the Bronx who got into the High School of Performing Arts but ran afoul of her Stanislavski-crazed drama teacher, for whom she could feel “Nothing.” Dance: Ten; Looks: Three: The, ummm…keys to success in landing dance jobs are now bluntly spelled out for us by Val, in the song that all the world knows by another name but here goes by “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three.”
The Story of A Chorus Line & Song Breakdown (cont’d):
The Music and The Mirror: We’ve said early on that Zach knows some of these dancers already. What we don’t know until well along is that Zach used to be involved with Cassie; she left because all he cared about was his work. Now, having failed in her efforts to graduate to acting parts in Hollywood, Cassie has come back to New York, desperate for work, any work, and swearing to her ex-lover that all she needs is “The Music and The Mirror.” Not here, but impossible to neglect is a monologue form Paul, a Puerto Rican kid who worked in a drag show, and recounts the story of the day his parents found out. From the moment he recalls how his father told the show’s producer, “Take care of my son,” the audience wants Paul to succeed most of all. One: The group has long since dwindled from 24 to 16; the final cut down approaches, as Zach takes the dancers, through the new show’s big number, “One”, Hamlisch and Kleban’s clever spoof of/thrilling tribute to those colossal Jerry Herman showstoppers of the Sixties. What I Did For Love: And Paul goes down with a knee injury. As he’s taken off to a hospital, through with dancing for now, maybe forever, Zach asks the remaining company what they’d do if today were the day they had to stop dancing. Regret nothing, Diana answers for all: “What I Did for Love”, the torchy “11 o’clock number” that is this show’s most enduring pop favorite. At the very last moment, with no time for sentiment or anything else, Zach announces his decisions: Diana, Cassie, Mike, and Val are among the lucky ones. As the unchosen walk off, the music starts again, and we see what they’ve been working toward: a full-blown reprise of “One”, all glitter and top hats. They’re brilliant, yet we see them as the audience never will, because on stage the still-absent star will outshine them. A Singular Sensation, all right.