There’s just something about musicals that I love, and I trace that back to seeing Grease in the movies when I was 10 (which I think I saw in the theater upwards of 50 times! I think I can still do the dialogue flawlessy along with the DVD, and posibly 100% accurately without it, too), but when the whole possibility of live theatre and Broadway musicals really clicked for me was when I saw A Chorus Line on Broadway toward the end of its initial, very-long run on Broadway.

After 6,137 performance spanning 15 years, the show defined a Broadway phenomenon and only Rent gives me a similar energy as far as it leaving you inspired, questioning your own life, while your head is filled with songs you want to treasure throughout your life.

I saw A Chorus Line on Broadway maybe two times toward the very end of its run, so I would have been around 21 or 22, right before I came out at 23, so like many other gays the show had a huge effect on me in a way that younger kids used RENT later in the 90s. It showed me possibility, that things would be OK…

I think it is one of the shows that defined my artistic sensibility and continues to inform it. Without rotating stages, falling chandeliers, huge helicopters descending from the ceiling, it builds its case through pure naked emotion. Just 17 dancers on a bare stage auditioning to be in the chorus for a new musical, telling the stories of their lives that led them to that moment.

In his one-man show "The Night Larry Kramer Kissed Me," David Drake talks about seeing A Chorus Line on his sixteenth birthday, with a boy he has a crush on, a boy he wasn’t out to… he had known all the songs in advance from the album, but not the stories in-between, and let’s just let David ’s story speak for itself, despite it requiring you to scroll, with his original spacing:

The album that gave me no warning that one story
would appear,
told on the stage
all alone
that was not my story

but was my story.

Out of the mouth
of that Puerto Rican, dancer-boy "Paul"
telling the story
of a boy
who loves boys
A story that seeped
into my childhood sleep at 7,
8,
9,
10,
11,
12,
13,
14,
15,
now 16,

hiding my swollen eyes from him,
Tim,
at my side
driving
silently
through the night
on the highway.

Driving home
to be alone
with the embarassment of this exposing moment;
displayed on my tear-smeared, red-blushed face.
Displayed
     in front of him.
     Tim.

Ignition clicked off.
Engine stopped.
Parked in the driveway–
     watching the flourescent blue television glow
     silently explode
     through the living room’s lace-curtained
     bay window.
"I gotta go," I said.
"No, wait," he said. "You’d better wipe your face,"
     as he gave me the white handkerchief
     from his blue blazer pocket.

"Thank you, Tim."

"So, I guess you know…
that Puerto Rican boy in the show
is like me.
I’m like that."

"I know," he said. "And I like that,"
     as he reached across the bucket seats
     taking a hold of my tear-smeared cheeks
     to gently place upon my 16-year-old lips
     one singularly sensational "ooh, sigh" kiss.

I saw the show with my grandmother, so not the same moment, but still marking a specific moment of my life forever. Shortly after that time, I came out, and saw my first "gay play" in the Village, Larry Kramer’s "The Destiny of Me," with John Cameron Mitchell as one of the leads (Anthony Rapp would later take this role on when John left). All of these events are one huge moment for me, and I don’t think it is coincidental that I’ve since met and e-mailed with Larry Kramer, become friends with David Drake and Anthony Rapp, and met John Cameron Mitchell on a few occassions. There are no coincidences.

So, all of this is leading up to A Chorus Line now playing in San Francisco in advance of its return to Broadway in late September. At first, I was hoping for the possibility of half-price tickets, because I’m avoiding $100 tickets right now being unemployed, but tracking how well it is selling online, combined with the short run and the great reviews, and I realize it is not going to happen. So, I break down and decide to pay full-price with birthday money, but decide to wait for a killer seat if I’m going to do it. The day after I decide to go, the day after my birthday, I get orchestra, Row E, dead center…

Just knowing I’m seeing A Chorus Line that night kills any work on my novel for the day, nothing able to permeate the "Chorus Line!!!" mantra that repeats and repeats in my head. I skip the gym, too, since the gym combined with its hydration rituals tends to get me on an hourly bathroom schedule for the day, and Chorus Line is two hours and no intermission, so I must remain bladder-conscious all day. I’m not missing a second of this show. (I do recognize this is all over-the-top, but it is all true, so…).

The lights dim, and I get goosebumps. Silhouettes walk onto the stage. The piano kicks in, and it is immediately like seeing an old friend. Then with a "Let’s do the whole combination, facing away from the mirror… and 5, 6, 7, 8!" the music kicks in full-force, the cast faces the audience, and "I Hope I Get It!" begins. Every cell in my body charges up, eyes widen, and I drink in every second, every movement, every word, every note.

I quickly find "Paul" on the stage, because from the posters I know which costume he’ll be in from where he stands on line (told you, I know the show too well), not to mention, I had already exchanged an e-mail with Jason Tam, the actor playing him, before even seeing the show, so I know what he looks like.

Paul tags the initial song with some of the lines that have always come up in my life, usually sung out loud, possibly more relevant now than ever before: "Who am I anyway? Am I my resume? That is a picture of a person I don’t know." Trying to leave corporate America to write a novel? Losing 100+ pounds? body image issue? Take your pick, maybe just add a "D) All of the above" and call it even?

I’m not going to give a song-by-song review, but there wasn’t a flawed moment in the entire show.

Jason/"Paul" provides one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show, and does it alone, with just words and his body, on a naked stage. It’s good to know that with the Disneyfication of Broadway, huge set pieces, and celebrity-led shows, there are still moments when a roomful of people who shell out $100 a piece are looking at nothing but great acting with no artifice and getting a complete beautiful experience.

It also made me wonder what it must be like to be a 24-year-old actor like Jason and knowing there is nothing to hide behind and having to open yourself up like that every night. But there was no need to worry about that. He owned the stage, and kept everyone silent and transfixed as he told the most beautiful, heartfelt story of the evening.

I chatted with Jason Tam after the show (shock.), about how he started years ago as little Gavroche in les Miz, and this is his first adult role that he’s opening on Broadway. I also warned him that there will probably be a lot of gay men telling him their "Paul" stories, as it was a role that meant a great deal to an entire generation of people. I’m probably one of the youngest people in that group. Jason came across as a great, open spirit, and is perfectly ready to own the stage in NYC. I may have to see him again over Christmas…

I’ve taken some hits on this site before when I’ve said I gravitate to art that makes me see myself in a new way, or to question myself as a result (as opposed to seeing a show about women in India having to fight for whatever). I call it "mirror" versus "window," and I’m still there.

Aside from the personal connection to the show, it does show me how lucky I am to be writing a novel. That is something I don’t think about enough. Look at the dancers in A Chorus Line, or even actors like Jason Tam, or Anthony Rapp, or David Drake, or any actors I know… they basically have to build up all of this acting experience, dance experience, singing experience, and then have to wait for the perfect role at the perfect time, and so many factors to come together just to put all of their talent to its beautiful use. There were probably dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of people who auditioned to be in those roles last night, all waiting for the chance to take their skills and use them.

Comparatively, my art isn’t collaborative. I only have to sit here, fire up Word, and get it done. By that standard, I have it easy. And, I certainly welcome any perspective by which I can think of my novel as easy.

—

If you’re in San Francisco, don’t hesitate to see A Chorus Line. If you’re in New York, or visit there regularly, get your Chorus Line tickets now. And, break a leg Jason! But you don’t need any help at this point, your star is ready to shine…

This entry was posted on Friday, August 11th, 2006 at 12:03 pm and is filed under diary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.