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The Best of Broadway season begins with full-blown dance-fever
favorite Fosse.
This
1999 Tony Award winner
for Best Musical is
choreographed by
Bob Fosse and directed by Richard Maltby Jr.
Keller
Auditorium
(formerly Civic Auditorium), 222
SW Clay St., 7:30 pm Wednesday-Sunday,
2 pm Saturday-Sunday, July 18-23.
$21.75-$61.75.
Feed
QW: Send savory bits of information
to
Byron Beck at bbeck@
wweek.com
at
least 10 days prior to
publication.
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I blame it on Bob Fosse.
A true song and dance man, "Jazz Hands" was able to turn
a sassy attitude into a lifestyle with a single gesture.
He was also responsible for reducing me to a dancing stereotype.
But I didn't give much attention in my teen years to the
Bob of such slap-happy shows as Sweet Charity. It
wasn't until I witnessed his bacon-sizzling musical number
"Take Off With Us" from the hot erotobiographical film All
That Jazz that I got bit by the Fosse bug.
This sex-capade made it easy for me to try something I
thought my virgin butt would never do: dance!
That desire to get Fossefied came to fruition during my
distinguished days as "Disco There" in the anything-but-professional
corps Disco Here, Disco There, Disco, Disco Everywhere.
Performing at countless nursing homes in the Tri-Cities,
I would try to slip in a wicked, Fosse-flavored butt thrust
as I hurtled old ladies 'round the dance floor to the tune
of "Stayin' Alive." This garnered much attention from the
chicks at the disco-fueled dance parties at my local junior
college. So, imagine my surprise when a male student, a
rich kid named "Chris" (they're always named Chris), asked
me to go on an overnight road trip to the big city of Portland
to see Fosse's Dancin'.
I couldn't have cared less whether
or not Chris wanted to get in my pants.
All I knew was that seeing Fosse moves was a major dream
of mine, and I wasn't going to miss it.
It changed my life. Confronted with the overt sexuality
onstage, I could
no longer keep my jazz hands in my pockets.
My next Fosse moment was Halloween night, circa 1982. As
a junior transfer student at the University of Washington,
I was more interested in a piece of ass than a piece of
paper.
Walking the streets of Seattle in a pair of tight jeans
and a jacket I had "borrowed" from the Rep's costume department,
a friend and I were off in willy-nilly land when I spotted
Bob Fosse's femme vitale on the steps of the old
Paramount Theatre. "Omigod!" I shrieked to my companion.
"Isn't that Ann Reinking?" When he replied "Who?" I realized
I was spending my gay holy day with the wrong person. How
could he not know the diva of jazzy dance? Though I was
unable to do anything but excitedly rush up to Fosse's leading
lady and fumble out a hello, I will never forget her angelic
face. It brought me one step closer to my personal dance
god.
Call me a dancing fool if you must, but I am sure I'm not
alone in my worship at the feet (knock knees and head tilt)
of the late, great Fosse.
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