This is a film almost exclusively about young (or at least 'youngISH') people and yet, as you can see by the votimg breakdown, it scores poorly with them. Why? Read on. "E.L.S." is a superb and intimate view of the innumerable auditions held for the revival of "A Chorus Line," the mid-'70s Broadway musical that has become a landmark of American musical theater, winning 12 Tony Awards and a Pulitzer Prize. It was the longest running show on Broadway in its time.
Dancer/choreographer/director Michael Bennett wanted to make a musical about Broadway's 'gypsies,' the chorus-line dancers and their extremely demanding, physically punishing specialty, which offers great personal fulfillment in exchange for relentless disappointment, endless work, low pay, few opportunities for employment and almost NONE for stardom (how many musicals after all, STAR a dancer)? Bennett's title, 'A Chorus Line,' not THE, makes it clear that he's talking about all gypsies, all the time, every show.
And yet when the casting call went out, 3000 dancers put themselves on the line for about a dozen jobs. The same thing happened with the revival--and opening night was more than a year away. Talent is a must, of course, but there's more. If the gypsies want the job, says choreographer Baayork Lee, they must be prepared "to eat nails." Pay: $100 a week, and that includes the producers (of course, they can afford it). Still, it's important: the producers were all part of the 1976 show, and the revival is essentially a tribute to Michael Bennett, who died at only 44. Their emotional bonds means they're intensely concerned with getting it right. Exchanges among themselves and with the gypsies reveal the stress of seeking exactly the right performer while having to tell dozens of others they didn't quite make the cut.
Then there are numerous and affecting interviews with the gypsies--all hopeful, some desperate--struggling through the auditions. There's also footage of the 1976 original, in which the brilliance of Donna McKechnie's dancing is just barely visible (it's a shame that this dim, coarse-grained footage is all that's left to us). SPOILER ALERT: And there's a terrific revelation about how Marsha Mason "saved the show" when she wasn't even in it.
So why isn't it much liked by the young? BECAUSE they're young. Because they're not OLD ENOUGH. I mean no insult; it's perfectly natural. The young are told 'go out, work hard and success is sure to follow,' and that is rather less than the truth. In real life, a lot of the time things just don't pan out because of bad luck, bad timing, bad bosses--even mere LOOKS. The little secret that life isn't fair is withheld and the young are sent forth armed with illusions instead. It's not a GOOD solution; it's the ONLY solution. (Would you tell a first-time pregnant woman about labor maybe lasting 72 hours and the rising incidence of Downs' Syndrome, crippling allergies and birth defects? No. We say 'Congratulations. Don't smoke, don't drink and all will be well,' don't we?)
This film scores so well with the older crowd because they know it's the truth and because it's not just about Broadway's gypsies but about everyone who's had to work too long and too hard for too little, who's taken some hits from from what Martin Amis, I think, called "the shrapnel of life." So if you're young and didn't like this film--wait 20 years and try again. (I didn't get "A Chorus Line" myself, although that's at least partly because I saw only the 1985 movie version, which was badly done and badly cast.)
SPOILER ALERTS--both near the end. A lame moment comes on opening night. Outside the theater, with the crowd showing up, we get a quick montage of Joan Rivers, Liza Minelli and Sandra Bernhardt. None says a word and the whole thing lasts a mere 20 seconds or so, but the intrusion of celebrities breaks the mood. It doesn't help that each of them looks like hell, besides. The best moment for me was a clip of Michael Bennett's Tony Award acceptance speech. It was heartfelt, beautiful and brief, altogether a much-deserved slap in the face for all of those smarmy Oscar winner who drone on endlessly with thanks and special thanks and great big thanks and extra thanks to anyone and everyone they can think of, including their agents and, lately, their LAWYERS.
Dancer/choreographer/director Michael Bennett wanted to make a musical about Broadway's 'gypsies,' the chorus-line dancers and their extremely demanding, physically punishing specialty, which offers great personal fulfillment in exchange for relentless disappointment, endless work, low pay, few opportunities for employment and almost NONE for stardom (how many musicals after all, STAR a dancer)? Bennett's title, 'A Chorus Line,' not THE, makes it clear that he's talking about all gypsies, all the time, every show.
And yet when the casting call went out, 3000 dancers put themselves on the line for about a dozen jobs. The same thing happened with the revival--and opening night was more than a year away. Talent is a must, of course, but there's more. If the gypsies want the job, says choreographer Baayork Lee, they must be prepared "to eat nails." Pay: $100 a week, and that includes the producers (of course, they can afford it). Still, it's important: the producers were all part of the 1976 show, and the revival is essentially a tribute to Michael Bennett, who died at only 44. Their emotional bonds means they're intensely concerned with getting it right. Exchanges among themselves and with the gypsies reveal the stress of seeking exactly the right performer while having to tell dozens of others they didn't quite make the cut.
Then there are numerous and affecting interviews with the gypsies--all hopeful, some desperate--struggling through the auditions. There's also footage of the 1976 original, in which the brilliance of Donna McKechnie's dancing is just barely visible (it's a shame that this dim, coarse-grained footage is all that's left to us). SPOILER ALERT: And there's a terrific revelation about how Marsha Mason "saved the show" when she wasn't even in it.
So why isn't it much liked by the young? BECAUSE they're young. Because they're not OLD ENOUGH. I mean no insult; it's perfectly natural. The young are told 'go out, work hard and success is sure to follow,' and that is rather less than the truth. In real life, a lot of the time things just don't pan out because of bad luck, bad timing, bad bosses--even mere LOOKS. The little secret that life isn't fair is withheld and the young are sent forth armed with illusions instead. It's not a GOOD solution; it's the ONLY solution. (Would you tell a first-time pregnant woman about labor maybe lasting 72 hours and the rising incidence of Downs' Syndrome, crippling allergies and birth defects? No. We say 'Congratulations. Don't smoke, don't drink and all will be well,' don't we?)
This film scores so well with the older crowd because they know it's the truth and because it's not just about Broadway's gypsies but about everyone who's had to work too long and too hard for too little, who's taken some hits from from what Martin Amis, I think, called "the shrapnel of life." So if you're young and didn't like this film--wait 20 years and try again. (I didn't get "A Chorus Line" myself, although that's at least partly because I saw only the 1985 movie version, which was badly done and badly cast.)
SPOILER ALERTS--both near the end. A lame moment comes on opening night. Outside the theater, with the crowd showing up, we get a quick montage of Joan Rivers, Liza Minelli and Sandra Bernhardt. None says a word and the whole thing lasts a mere 20 seconds or so, but the intrusion of celebrities breaks the mood. It doesn't help that each of them looks like hell, besides. The best moment for me was a clip of Michael Bennett's Tony Award acceptance speech. It was heartfelt, beautiful and brief, altogether a much-deserved slap in the face for all of those smarmy Oscar winner who drone on endlessly with thanks and special thanks and great big thanks and extra thanks to anyone and everyone they can think of, including their agents and, lately, their LAWYERS.