Bob Fosse’s Dancin’
In 1978, when Bob Fosse created Dancin’, purportedly in reaction to Michael Bennett’s A Chorus Line, he stated publicly that the all dance project set to a wide assortment of available music would free him from the burden of artistic partnership. For the first time ever, an entire Broadway company was given principal contracts under Equity, which meant higher salaries. While, as in Bennett’s piece, I applaud the employment of so many dancers, they don’t have to watch the new iteration.
Apparently the original blueprint has been considerably changed. As I can’t imagine Fosse signing off on this messy, contemporary version, it’s oddly a relief. (One has one’s artistic heroes.) The uneven revue, which often resembles a 1970s television variety show, not only lacks plot (as intended), but more importantly cohesiveness and context.
“Mr. Bojangles” a nod to the legacy of Bill “Bojangles” Robinson featuring Yeman Brown (Robinson) and Jacob Guzman (Fosse), here bears no relationship to history or other styles. Both men are graceful and precise. Guzman appears drunk-in character. No easy task. “Dancin’ Man,” in tribute to Fred Astaire, bears none of his imagination. Company voices arrive thin. What should be touching (something of an understated anthem) arrives ho-hum.
The first of several monologues quoting Fosse is delivered by the overacting Joana Alfonso almost wearing a strip of diagonally draped mesh. A TV newswoman is brushed aside, three dancers discourse on toxic masculinity – which lands like a deflated balloon. What, why?
With few exceptions, when apparel becomes cheap looking streetwear, Reid Bartelme and Harriet Jung have created moving eyesores – ugly polyester spandex and soft plastic costumes with multiple sections cut away or transparent; over mixed textures unflattering to bodies, often in blah colors.
Dissonance continues with perhaps the most obtrusive lighting (David Grill) and video design (Finn Ross) I’ve ever experienced in theater. One can barely see the dancers for exploding patterns and pulsing light on a 28 x 49 foot LED screen. We live in an age when AI is becoming a threat. You’d think a sentient computer commandeered visuals. Hip hop and break dancing are not Fosse genres, yet steps and attitudes of both are as frequent as Broadway turns. The director/choreographer was famous for exactitude and composition. In this production, individual dancers achieve Fosse sharpness, but what
we see overall looks disjointed.
I presume David Dabbon’s “new music and dance arrangements” are responsible for small audible excerpts from Sweet Charity, Cabaret, Pippin and Chicago (all of which Fosse directed/choreographed). The musical parentheses are suffocated so quickly, one wonders whether they were a factor of imagination. Was this a royalty issue?
“Big Spender,” marvelous in Sweet Charity, has not an ounce of its original tacky, bored, sexual insinuation. A monotone “Let Me Entertain You,” performed by artists in clown suits, segues to Kolton Krause’s facsimile of Sally Bowles’ chair scene from Cabaret’s Kit Kat Klub. “Tease me, please me, cruise me, abuse me,” performers sing (song title unknown) in this updated take. “Big City Mime” which was cut out of town in 1977 for being too vulgar is back. The talented Peter John Chursin who both dances well and plays to character, stands out amidst what seems an uncoordinated scenario.
The company works hard. If only they were better served. We see pelvic contractions, bent elbows, splayed fingers, shoulder and hip rotation, and the proverbial tipped hat, but it just doesn’t seem like Fosse’s baby. Ostensibly grown-up, the show is now a selfish teen with his own agenda and little sense of purpose, like the backwards DANCIN’ sign.
Bob Fosse’s Dancin’
Original Production created, directed, and choreographed by Bob Fosse
Direction and Musical Staging by Wayne Cliento
Photos by Julieta Cervantes
The Music Box
239 West 45th Street
