Back in April, I offered a first quarter wrap-up of my favorite movies from the first three months of 2009, and -- but for the impending demise of the Screengrab -- I would have returned on July 1 with my second quarter wrap-up, which surely would have included the ridiculously entertaining Star Trek reboot, the moving biopic Grey Gardens (which counts towards my film list since I saw it on the big screen and also because it’s HBO, which is apparently not TV) and the festival favorite Winnebago Man, all of which have been previously reviewed and justly praised on this blog.
The other Q2 movie I’ve seen with a good chance of winding up on my year-end Top Ten is the documentary Every Little Step, a chronicle of the 1975 origin and 2006 revival of A Chorus Line built around the stories of the young hopefuls and veteran gypsies involved in the real-life audition process for Broadway’s classic musical about the audition process.
And yet, as noted in the title of this post, I’m so firmly ensconced in the film’s target demographic that I can’t even really review it: I can only gush how much I, personally, was moved by its depiction of people bound to and by their often cruel and sometimes exhilarating (but always risky and generally low-paying) creative arts vocations in a world that cares a helluva lot more about science, math and the bottom line: you know, the whole “What I Did For Love” thing...
...but maybe you’re NOT familiar with the show biz anthem “What I Did For Love” or any of the other characters or songs associated with A Chorus Line. Maybe you don’t already have fond memories of the musical’s spunky 4’ 10” Asian chorus girl Connie, and so you won’t be inherently fascinated by the revelation that the character was based on Baayork Lee, Broadway’s original Connie (and a member of the revival’s creative team), one of the real-life dancers whose stories Michael Bennett and his collaborators incorporated into the book and lyrics of their Tony-sweeping production. And maybe, if you don’t know about Bennett’s early death from AIDS-related lymphoma in 1987, you’ll miss the melancholy undertow of the documentary’s otherwise jubilant razzle-dazzle.
Still, even with no foreknowledge of the show in question, the “God I hope I get it!” reality show suspense of the audition structure, where we ultimately get to know two candidates for each of several roles (knowing in the end there can be only one, Highlander-style) may be enough to entertain audiences who don’t know “Dance Ten, Looks Three” from “Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen” and haven’t been to a theater since their high school talent show. (Me, I was rooting for the cute little Asian girl who was down to her last unemployment check.) So go ahead, add it to that Netflix queue: even if you're not a flaming theater geek, at least it'll tide you over 'til the next season of So You Think You Can Dance With The Stars of American Idol's Got Talent!
