Thirty-four songs by Sinatra, the Mount Rushmore of popular vocal artists worldwide, are the foundation of acclaimed choreographer Twyla Tharp’s concept musical built around 19 superb dancers and no words, although Tharp is credited with the book of the musical which is pretty bizarre in itself since it takes a couple of pages in the same program to give credit to everybody under the sun who had anything to do with any aspect of Sinatra’s performances of the songs and that includes his whole family and all his enterprises. Maybe Rushmore isn’t a big enough image. An immense silhouette of the Great Man suffices as identification on the huge Marquis stage. No features; they are all in the songs. And Twyla Tharp has mined them down to the last comma, the last period, the last quotation mark for interpretation by her extraordinary dancers. Non-stop. Neither she, nor they nor huge, recorded Sinatra pause for breath or emotion during an eye enthralling first act.
If you think you have seen the Tharp sinuosities in previous incarnations of Tharp dance movement, think again. These dancers make body love to her every directed tingle, every fluidity, every deliberate crotch gawk, every stage swan dive, and, of course, every Tharp spin spin, spin. Keith Roberts is a stage grabber. John Selya spins his heart out and it’s a big heart. Holley Farmer, spell bindingly supple, blindingly assured, never fails to capture you, Matthew Stockwell Dibble outshines the music with his moves and Charlie Neshyba-Hodges steals your eyes with every spectacular move. None is hungrier for the spotlight than Karine Plantadit, who deserves every scintilla. She’s the closest thing to emotional content, swoopingly eye filling, feline, grace and growl even in her deliberately angular splays. It’s all razzle dazzling.
Tharp has based other of her dance programs to song smiths before. Her Billy Joel venture was variously greeted with enthusiasms she won in part for having created an overall semblance of a plot. Not so here. The most Tharp has done to anchor these thirty-four songs into some pretension of a idea is to place them – and a live orchestra – in a night club setting, along with a vocalist, the very good Hilary Gardner. James Youmans has created the setting which allows for lots of room for dancers, of course, plus sundry other pieces including waggling ceiling fixtures. Katherine Roth’s costumes are designed to function well with the dancers most of the time – right, Selya? –and Peter McBoyle does not stint with amplified sound but all is forgiven and forgotten time and again because of the truly amazing talents of her dancers.
With all the dancers, one Tharp gesture becomes another and another flawlessly, all of the bodies intertwine beautifully again and again, arms every inch as important as legs, to their very fingertips. There is nothing Tharp demands that these dancers do not give. And that is too bad. Because Tharp does not demand enough. More and more and more she asks for and more and more and more we get but not new, not deep, not touching. Any electricity is dancer generated, not Tharp generated. Stunning as much of the movement is, we have seen it before; Tharp has been around a long time. She has been covered. She covers herself. The freshness dancers give to as much of her choreography as they can is their contribution, not hers. She has concocted a Broadway entertainment and as such it is delicious quickly, then gone. Instant enjoyment, no lingering savor except memories of dancers. Guess that’s enough.
Come Fly Away. At the Marquis Theater, 1535 Broadway near 45th Street. Tickets: $66.50-$126.50. 212-239-6200. Tue 7 pm, Wed-Sat 8 pm. Mats, Wed,Sat 2 pm, Sun 3 pm.