A Chorus Line

“Who am I anyway? Am I my resumé?”

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     This is the sentiment that sets off the stories told in A Chorus Line, and it is a sentiment that every graduating senior is acutely, painfully familiar with. It is this sentiment that unites all the characters you will see on this stage tonight, as they fight to make themselves stand out in the line and earn their place in a system that seeks to make them “One.” 

     The great challenge of staging a show like A Chorus Line is the expectation that comes along with it. This show is iconic, and so much of its construction in the past has been heavily dependent on the original production of the piece, from the memorability of the lyrics to the opening choreography. Thus, so much of the process of this production has been rooted in marrying and paying homage to the moments and portrayals that made this show the cultural touchstone that it is while also reimagining the narrative in new ways. 

     In working through the script on my own and with the actors, it became clear that there is an inherent insidiousness in the premise of the show that has often gone underemphasized. In inviting the auditioners to spill their life stories, inspirations, and traumas at the drop of a hat, Zach, the director, forces them into a place of commodifying their own feelings in front of strangers, which in many ways, reflects the realities of what it’s like to live and work in America: bare your soul to get the job, then become invisible once you do, blending in with everyone else. 

     The seventeen people you will see navigate Zach’s audition room all buy into this process, to varying degrees, and regardless of their incredible performances, only half of them are rewarded for the labor they endure in this room. Even as Zach begins to question his methods, he doesn’t stop, and even as the auditioners watch each other’s stories, realize their similarities, and build friendships, they never stop performing, attempting to beat each other. And it is exhausting.

     But, of course, this show is not meant to be depressing, nor do we seek to unsettle your perception of the state of the world in our reimagining of it. In this process of storytelling, we are reminded of the value of our individuality. Each of the characters in this show has a moment to shine in equal measure, and regardless of who gets the job in the end, it is their humanity you will remember -- their individual stories. I have said since the start of this process that A Chorus Line is about the value of our individuality in the face of systems that would reduce us to anonymity, and that is the exact sentiment we hope to impart on the graduating class. As you go on to whatever the next stage in your life may look like, you will encounter many Zachs, but just like the seventeen dancers you’ll hear stories from today, remember that your humanity is what matters most, far more than whether you end up on the line. 

     As hard as it may be to remember, especially at an institution like Yale, we are all more than our resumés.