EAT + PLAY

Maybe it was nostalgia.

After all, “A Chorus Line” was the first original Broadway cast album I ever owned. Long before I ever saw it staged, I had memorized its songs, replaying them endlessly, and watching the “One” finale in “Baryshnikov on Broadway” on Betamax. So when a new Philippine staging was announced, the excitement was immediate — and so was the apprehension.

Because “A Chorus Line” is unforgiving. Unlike many musicals where performers can specialize, this is a show that demands true triple threats. The dancing is front and center, often performed in a single line where there is nowhere to hide. You cannot “fake” your way through this material.

And while Filipino performers are undeniably talented, productions here have sometimes compensated by placing stronger dancers up front while others do simpler choreography in the back. “A Chorus Line” does not allow for that kind of illusion.

To its credit, Theatre Group Asia met the challenge head-on. Through nationwide and international auditions, the company assembled a cast that reflects both global Filipino talent and homegrown performers — among them Stephen Viñas, Rapah Manalo, Julio Laforteza, Sam Libao, and Mikaela Regis — many of whom have long worked in the ensemble and are finally given the spotlight this show was built to provide.

Directed and choreographed by Karla Puno Garcia, this staging approaches the material with both reverence and lived understanding. A dancer herself, Puno Garcia brings an empathy that grounds the production. There is a clear respect for Michael Bennett’s original vision, but also a conscious effort to align it with Theatre Group Asia’s mission of showcasing Filipino artistry. What emerges is a production that feels deeply sincere.

Running close to two and a half hours, “A Chorus Line” unfolds as an extended audition. Seventeen dancers vie for eight spots — four men and four women — while director Zach asks them to share their stories: their childhoods, their struggles, their reasons for dancing. The structure is deceptively simple, but the emotional range is vast. Some stories are light and humorous; others cut deeply, revealing insecurities, trauma, and longing.

There have been criticisms over the years that the show feels dated — its 1975 pop culture references (Troy Donahue, Doris Day, Gwen Verdon) and its treatment of certain themes may no longer carry the same immediacy. But strip those specifics away, and what remains is something enduring. At its core, “A Chorus Line” is about dedication and the relentless pursuit of a craft that rarely guarantees recognition. That message lands with clarity here.

Visually, the production leans into austerity. The stage (set design by Miguel Urbino) is largely bare, framed by mirrors that shift and multiply perspectives. These reflective surfaces do more than expand the visual field — they underscore the multiplicity of the performers themselves, allowing the audience to see them from different angles, both literally and metaphorically. Combined with precise, atmospheric lighting (by Cha See), the effect is immersive without being excessive.

And then there are the performances. While much of the publicity centers on Conrad Ricamora and Lissa de Guzman as Zach and Cassie, respectively, the production’s true strength lies in its ensemble.

Ricamora’s Zach is commanding and omnipresent, often moving through the theater space itself — appearing in aisles or elevated sections — asserting control with a voice that carries authority and urgency. De Guzman, meanwhile, brings vulnerability and quiet magnetism to Cassie, a former star seeking a second chance in the chorus. Her “Music and the Mirror” is a standout moment, a raw and open declaration of identity and purpose. When she sings, “God, I’m a dancer,” it resonates not just as a lyric, but as a plea.

Still, the real triumph of this production is collective. There is a palpable sense of commitment from the entire cast — an emotional generosity that makes the show land with a graceful force. The stories feel lived-in, the dancing exhilarating, the energy sustained. 

And it all builds toward that iconic finale.

In “One,” individuality dissolves into unity. The dancers, once defined by their personal stories, become a single, synchronized line — indistinguishable, precise, unforgettable. It is both the show’s spectacle and its thesis: that behind every seamless performance is a chorus of individuals whose stories, while briefly shared, ultimately give way to the larger picture.

That paradox is what makes “A Chorus Line” endure. In this staging, it also becomes its greatest strength.

With its blend of discipline, passion, and respect for the material, this production stands as one of the most compelling musical theater offerings of the season. It honors the legacy of the original while affirming something just as vital — that Filipino performers, given the right platform, can meet its demands head-on.

And like the show itself, they do it for love.

Theatre Group Asia’s production of ‘A Chorus Line’ runs until March 29 at the Samsung Performing Arts Center, Circuit Makati.