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Chita Rivera at the Merriam
Steve Cohen
Falling star
STEVE COHEN
Early in her autobiographical show A Dancer’s Life, Chita Rivera recalls that she made her stage debut in the 1952 road company of Call Me Madam, starring Elaine Stritch. Right here Rivera creates two major problems: First, she invites comparison with Stritch’s moving one-woman stage memoir of three seasons ago; and second, Rivera fails to provide any revealing anecdotes about her experiences with Stritch. Elaine’s dish-the-dirt stories made her 2003 show a fabulous success, and she sang with a strength that belied her 78 years.
Like Stritch in her show, Rivera at 73 is a septuagenarian as well as a legendary figure in musical theater. I’ve loved her work ever since I saw her in Mr. Wonderful in 1956 and then create the role of Anita in the original West Side Story in 1957. I enjoyed her in Chicago, Bye Bye Birdie and Kiss of the Spider Woman. But an automobile accident in 1986 damaged one of Rivera's legs, and her moves now are restricted: Most of the time she limits her dancing to elegant turns and poses. Her vocal resources have diminished as well. And unlike Elaine Stritch’s audaciously introspective on-stage musings, Rivera’s monologues reveal little of her own personal life and virtually nothing about the lives of the people she met in showbiz. All told, in this production she demonstrates little of the fire that made her famous.
A further fault is that Rivera sings hardly any complete songs. This is a short show– less than two hours, including intermission– so lack of time can’t be an excuse. For no apparent reason, Rivera, her director and her arrangers give us truncated versions of the numbers that everyone associates with Rivera.
Still, the show has its memorable moments. In the second act Rivera talks about the styles of four choreographers who shaped her career: Jack Cole, Peter Gennaro, Bob Fosse and Jerome Robbins, demonstrating the movements that made each of them distinctive. I wish the show included much more of this type of material, as well as stories about what these men were like off-stage. And Rivera displays thrust and panache when she reprises "Nowadays" and "All That Jazz," which she introduced in Chicago in 1975.
Terrence McNally’s script relies on clichés and is not in a class with his best work. A group of eight skillful dancers assist Rivera, but none of them can equal the impact of the moment when Rivera shares the stage with a second spotlight focused on the empty place where the late Gwen Verdon used to appear alongside her in Chicago.
Chita’s persona is gracious and it’s nice to see her back on stage. But alas, her best work must survive in our memories.
STEVE COHEN
Early in her autobiographical show A Dancer’s Life, Chita Rivera recalls that she made her stage debut in the 1952 road company of Call Me Madam, starring Elaine Stritch. Right here Rivera creates two major problems: First, she invites comparison with Stritch’s moving one-woman stage memoir of three seasons ago; and second, Rivera fails to provide any revealing anecdotes about her experiences with Stritch. Elaine’s dish-the-dirt stories made her 2003 show a fabulous success, and she sang with a strength that belied her 78 years.
Like Stritch in her show, Rivera at 73 is a septuagenarian as well as a legendary figure in musical theater. I’ve loved her work ever since I saw her in Mr. Wonderful in 1956 and then create the role of Anita in the original West Side Story in 1957. I enjoyed her in Chicago, Bye Bye Birdie and Kiss of the Spider Woman. But an automobile accident in 1986 damaged one of Rivera's legs, and her moves now are restricted: Most of the time she limits her dancing to elegant turns and poses. Her vocal resources have diminished as well. And unlike Elaine Stritch’s audaciously introspective on-stage musings, Rivera’s monologues reveal little of her own personal life and virtually nothing about the lives of the people she met in showbiz. All told, in this production she demonstrates little of the fire that made her famous.
A further fault is that Rivera sings hardly any complete songs. This is a short show– less than two hours, including intermission– so lack of time can’t be an excuse. For no apparent reason, Rivera, her director and her arrangers give us truncated versions of the numbers that everyone associates with Rivera.
Still, the show has its memorable moments. In the second act Rivera talks about the styles of four choreographers who shaped her career: Jack Cole, Peter Gennaro, Bob Fosse and Jerome Robbins, demonstrating the movements that made each of them distinctive. I wish the show included much more of this type of material, as well as stories about what these men were like off-stage. And Rivera displays thrust and panache when she reprises "Nowadays" and "All That Jazz," which she introduced in Chicago in 1975.
Terrence McNally’s script relies on clichés and is not in a class with his best work. A group of eight skillful dancers assist Rivera, but none of them can equal the impact of the moment when Rivera shares the stage with a second spotlight focused on the empty place where the late Gwen Verdon used to appear alongside her in Chicago.
Chita’s persona is gracious and it’s nice to see her back on stage. But alas, her best work must survive in our memories.
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