Nicole Fosse – Through the Shattered Lens

A Chorus Line always leaves me feeling angry.

Now, I should make clear that I’m talking about the 1985 film adaptation and not the show that ran for 6,137 performances on Broadway. The original show was a tribute to the so-called Broadway gypsies, the dancers who went from show to show and performed anonymously behind the star. It was a portrait of both the veteran performers and the young up-and-comers who still dreamed of someday moving out of the chorus and becoming stars on their own. When it opened in 1975, it was considered to be groundbreaking in its frankness about things like sexuality and aging. It featured heartbreaking monologues and, even more importantly, amazing songs. The show was a true tribute to people who lived to be on stage.

The movie, on the other hand, is about a jerk of a director named Zack (Michael Douglas) and his ex-girlfriend, a rather self-absorbed dancer named Cassie (Alyson Reed).

My main issue with the film can be seen right at the start. We watch as a large group of dancers are put through a strenuous audition process. Everyone is working hard, trying to make an impression on Zack in the little time that they have. Zack sits in the darkness of the theater, a malevolent presence with a sharp, cigarette-shaped voice. Most of the dancers will only know him as the pitiless voice that dismisses them from the audition. We watch as everyone pushes themselves. The older dancers try to ignore the aches and pain that come with age. The younger dancers are desperate to finally get their big break. It’s an exciting sequence, one that shows just how much hard work goes into even getting through the auditions to be a finalist for a part in the chorus.

The only dancer who isn’t there is Cassie. Cassie has just flown into New York. She’s stuck in traffic. She doesn’t arrive until towards the end of the initial eliminations. She is greeted by the assistant choreographer, Larry (Terrence Mann, who gives one of the better performances in the film). At first, Zack refuses to allow Cassie to audition. Cassie says she needs the job. Zack replies that she’s too good to just be a member of the Chorus Line.

Now, actually, Zack is right about one thing. Cassie should not be allowed to audition. But it’s not because she’s too good to be in the chorus. She shouldn’t be allowed to audition because she didn’t show up on time! She’s showed up late! There are sixteen finalists and only 8 spots available. The other finalists showed up on time and have spent the entire day dancing and proving themselves. They’ve worked hard for their spot. They fought for the opportunity. Cassie just shows up late and basically acts as if she’s entitled to take away one of their spots.

We’re continually told that Cassie is special but we don’t really see any evidence of it. A lot of that is because the film was rather stodgily directed by Richard Attenborough, who stages each scene in a way that makes everyone — including Cassie — seem rather bland. One wishes the film could have been directed by a Bob Fosse or a Stanley Donen or a Vincente Minnelli or even a Rob Marshall. All four of those director knew (or, in Marshall’s case, know) how to shoot a dance number so that the dancer’s personality and skill comes through. Under Attenborough’s direction, everyone comes across as being vaguely generic. Indeed, Attenborough focuses the film so much on Zack and Cassie’s relationship that the other performers get pushed to the side. Some of the show’s best songs are either not featured or just occur in the background. Attenborough’s film takes a show that was meant to be a celebration of an ensemble and instead turns it into a star vehicle.

Both the film and the show end with a rather heart-breaking scene in which 8 dancers are told to step forward before Zack thanks them for their time and sends them home. In the show, it’s reflection of life on Broadway. The director picks who he thinks is best for the show. Sometimes, that means that a likable or talented actor is still not cast. In the film, it feels cruel because we notice that Zack sent home 8 dancers who showed up on time and worked hard but still made room for Cassie, who didn’t. (Notably, in the show, Cassie and Zach had the same relationship as in the film but Cassie also showed up on time for the audition.) Now, I will say that Zach casting someone with whom he had a personal relationship over someone who he didn’t is probably realistic but it’s still annoying.

It’s debatable whether A Chorus Line could have ever been made into an effective film. That said, picking Richard Attenborough to direct and an apparently disinterested Michael Douglas to star certainly didn’t help matters.

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Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Mondays, I will be reviewing Miami Vice, which ran on NBC from 1984 to 1989. The entire show can be purchased on Prime!

This week, things get weird in Miami!

Episode 2.22 “Trust Fund Pirates”

(Dir by Jim Johnston, originally aired on May 2ns 1986)

Pirate radio DJ Captain Hook (Richard Belzer) sits on his yacht in international waters and broadcasts music to Miami while, at the same time, brokering drug deals among other yacht owners. His assistant is Noogie (Charlie Barnett), the informant who was all over the place during Miami Vice’s first season but who, up until this episode, was absent from the second season.

On another yacht, a group of Bolivians are gunned down by preppy young men who are led by Ivy League dropout Skip Mueller (Perry Lang). Skip and his buddies brag about being pirates and cheerfully make jokes while standing over the bodies of the men and the women that they killed.

A seaplane pilot named Jackson Crane (a young Gary Cole) raids the Bolivian yacht and takes some of the boat’s equipment home with him. Jackson is a longtime drug smuggler who claims that he’s on the verge of retirement. He’s dating a woman named Lani (Nicole Fosse), who happens to be Skip’s sister.

In a trailer park, Jumbo (Tommy Chong) and his wife Fluffy (Denny Dillon) keep a running tally of how many rats they’ve killed while trying to buy drugs and fence stolen goods. Jumbo calls everyone “man.” Fluffy is good with a shotgun.

And, in the middle of all this, we’ve got two aspiring drug dealers named Burnett and Cooper. Burnett and Cooper, of course, are actually Crockett and Tubbs. Just two episodes ago, one of Miami’s fiercest drug lords figured out that Burnett and Cooper are actually cops but I guess he decided not to tell anyone, despite the fact that he still thinks Crockett owes him money.

It’s a bizarre episode, full of strange characters and a plot that has so many double-crosses that it’s hard to keep track of who is betraying who. The episode was originally intended to be a sequel to Smuggler’s Blues, with Glenn Frey once again playing Jimmy the Pilot. When Frey couldn’t fit a return appearance into his schedule, the script was rewritten to feature Gary Cole as a friend of Jimmy’s. That said, it’s still obvious that the script was originally written more to highlight a popular guest star than to tell a totally coherent story.

Fortunately, Miami Vice works best when its a bit incoherent. One the major themes of the show is that no one can be trusted and that everyone is willing to betray everyone else. The world of Miami Vice is often illogical because it’s a world full of illogical people who tend to do whatever pops into their head at any given moment. Another major theme is that everyone either wants to get rich from selling drugs or they’re just adrenaline junkies who get a high from being involved in the underground. Skip and his friends are rich. They just enjoy killing people and pretending to be gangsters. This is one of the more violent and bloody episodes of Miami Vice. Skip and his friends enjoy their work a little too much.

It’s a good episode and well-acted. Gary Cole was considered for the role of Crockett before Don Johnson got the part and, in this episode, it’s easy to see why. Even as a young actor, Cole has a rugged cynicism to him that’s both dangerous and compelling. Perry Lang appeared in a lot of dumb teen comedies in the 80s, usually playing dorky nice guys. He’s absolutely chilling as the sociopathic Skip Mueller. And finally, there’s Richard Belzer, wearing an eyepatch, opening the episode by rapping with Noogie, and encouraging the criminals of Miami to enjoy some good music while breaking the law. Full of strange characters and shocking violence, this episode captures the idea of Miami being a surreal playground for the rich, ruthless, and crazy.

Next week, season 2 comes to an end!