GYPSY OF THE MONTH: Michelle M. Robinson of 'Chicago'

Fosse dancing, as we all know, is a genre unto itself. And as a nine-year member of the Chicago company, Michelle M. Robinson has to be considered a specialist in the genre. But this Fosse veteran isn't pigeonholed quite that easily. She was originally a ballerina, training with the Dance Theatre of Harlem starting around age 9. She put in four years as a soloist with the Eleo Pomare modern dance company. She's been a jitterbug champion. And a Rockette.

And that's just on the dance floor. Robinson is also a choreographer, a fledgling writer/director and an actress, with appearances in such prominent films as Malcolm X, Cast Away and The People vs. Larry Flynt. She's had a recurring role on the soap opera One Life to Live, as the prison matron when Lindsay (Catherine Hickland) was incarcerated for kidnapping. She still plays a prison matron occasionally—she understudies Mama Morton in Chicago!

Her regular role in Chicago is Liz, who offed her boyfriend for cracking his gum. (Robinson is temporarily out of the show, having injured her foot shortly after the BWW interview.) In "Cell Block Tango," she's the first of the merry murderesses to explain why "he had it coming," and it's a moment she treasures—even after nine years—because it allows her to act, not just dance. And act she does, going from deadpan to hysterical in one breath. "Having that little acting moment during the show kind of satisfies that part of me," she says. "It's Michelle giving herself permission to create and take challenges. In allowing myself that freedom, I go out and try to create something that would be entertaining but also real. I only have a minute to do it [the length of the monologue], and I always try to stick to the truth."

That's the mantra she learned from director George C. Wolfe, whom she considers a mentor. He cast her in Jelly's Last Jam, her second Broadway show, and in his 1995 production of Shakespeare's The Tempest, which played first at the Delacorte and then on Broadway. "It was set in a Carnival environment, so the goddesses [the roles she covered] were on stilts and the set was sand. I learned how to stilt-walk, I learned to appreciate Shakespeare, I had the opportunity to perform it and work alongside Patrick Stewart," she says gratefully.

"Once I got bit by the bug working with George and understanding the whole value of telling the truth," she says, "I decided to take acting lessons. I graduated from the Bill Esper Institute and went on to study with Michael Howard." Wolfe gave her a bit part in Lackawanna Blues, a film that aired last winter on HBO, starring S. Epatha Merkerson (who won an Emmy for it) and Ruben Santiago-Hudson, who also wrote it (and was also in Jelly's Last Jam). "The great thing George Wolfe taught me, and which I now live by, is: It's about truth," Robinson states. "So that's what I try to bring to the ["Cell Block"] monologue every night: some form of truth."

Even her costume is about truth, since those of us with cellulite to hide couldn't go near it. She wears mesh pants over a thong, so her rear end is exposed—all of it, all the time. The ensemble's costumes are selected for the performers, not for the roles, and this one was tried on several cast members prior to Robinson, who looked best in it. "They did take getting used to," she admits. "The G-string went through some transformations. In the beginning it was a bigger, triangle type in the back. The woman who wore the same costume on the road preferred a smaller, bona fide thong, and somehow that concept ended up here. My first performance in the thong was like, 'Omigod, I'm totally exposed.'" She has heard shouts of "Best butt on Broadway!" at the stage door. "That's been kind of cool," she says.

Robinson was a swing when the Chicago revival opened in November 1996; about six months later, she decided to leave the show because she didn't want to continue in that capacity. To avoid losing her, director Walter Bobbie promised to find her a slot in the ensemble. He did, and she joined the regular cast eight months into the run. Which means she's been around for all the former pop idols, TV personalities and assorted other casting stunts the Weisslers have brought on board. Adjusting to these stage-neophyte stars isn't always the same experience, Robinson explains. "Going into our 10th year, we're a well-oiled machine, so if the principal coming in doesn't really come in up to full steam, we feel that slightly," she says. "It can also be felt the other way around. We've had new cast members come in and not only are they up to steam but they bring something different. That's the great thing about live theater—yes, it's difficult, time-consuming, but their willingness to be a part is flattering to us. We've had a lot of film people, so this is their first experience doing live theater or a dream of theirs, and they can come in very open and genuine."

Sometimes, she adds, the brief star stints are "sad, because you bond with these people." Robinson has special memories of working with Louis Gossett Jr. in early 2002, even though he could play Billy Flynn for only a few performances because of aggravated asthma. "I can remember him saying something to me that has colored my life. It pertained to perseverance and being strong," she recalls. "He was very ill, and just watching that whole journey with him—someone that had always represented strength to me—and working with him at a very vulnerable time in his life. There was something about it that left indelible images in my mind."

She was also thrilled to work with Gossett because he's a performer she'd always looked up to. Ditto for Jennifer Holliday, who played Mama Morton during the summer of 2001. "These are people that were iconic in my eyes," Robinson says. Also leaving a huge impression on her was the late Gregory Hines, the star of Jelly's Last Jam. "He was just a sweet and loving, amazingly talented individual who believed in the piece and understood it, so every night it was a journey, a very difficult journey because there were a lot of social and racial issues involved [in the story]," she says. "I learned [from Hines] that being a celebrity is just how other people perceive you, that fame and fortune don't really mean anything if you don't honor what you're put on the planet to do. You can either feed into that whole 'I'm a star' kind of thing or you can continue to commit to the work and bring to it your heart and soul. And he was that type of person. He got to the theater and warmed up like everyone else, he rehearsed diligently. He was the consummate performer."

Though Jelly's Last Jam had a respectable but mortal life on Broadway of 16 months, as opposed to Chicago's nine years and counting, Robinson says Jelly's "is right up there with Chicago" as far as its impact on her life. George Wolfe "spoke to us a great deal about the inner workings of what the piece represented. I did research, I read on it. Up until that point I'd never done that much research as an ensemble member. This was an amazing opportunity and it totally colored my life."

In addition, it made her a whole other kind of dancer: "By the time I left that show I was a tapper." She had arrived in musical theater as a ballet and modern dancer. A native of New York City and the fourth of five children (her two brothers are both jazz musicians), Robinson studied with the Dance Theatre of Harlem from age 9 into her teens. She earned a B.F.A. in dance from the State University of New York at Purchase, where she took classes with Garth Fagan, modern dance (and eventual Lion King) choreographer. After performing for several years with the Eleo Pomare Dance Company, she joined a European tour of Sophisticated Ladies. Back in the States, she appeared regionally in Can-Can, Sweet Charity, They're Playing Our Song, Dreamgirls and Ain't Misbehavin', danced with the Rockettes for eight years (two in the Christmas show) and debuted on Broadway in Black and Blue.

Robinson had to master another dance form—jitterbug—after she was cast as a Roseland Ballroom patron in the 1992 feature film Malcolm X. She impressed the choreographers enough that they gave her extra instruction, and she went on to win jitterbug competitions. She worked on another Spike Lee joint, 1999's Summer of Sam, helping to choreograph the disco scenes. She assisted Otis Sallid, who has hired her several times since, for such projects as the Essence Awards. Meanwhile, Spike Lee referred her to his cousin Malcolm D. Lee for his directorial debut, The Best Man (with Taye Diggs and Terrence Howard). She choreographed the strippers for the bachelor party—most of whom were played by real strippers.

On screen, she's been seen dancing in the Robert De Niro/Philip Seymour Hoffman vehicle Flawless and acting in the comedy Pootie Tang. One film she wasn't in, though, was Chicago. She auditioned, but believes the filmmakers "didn't really want people from the Broadway production because they wanted to do something new and fresh." Her television credits include Law & Order, Third Watch and New York Undercover. Robinson's latest endeavor is creating her own work. She's developing a film project, about which she'll reveal only that it's an "adaptation" and "animated." She does note: "I look at that as part of my progression: trying to exercise that writing and directing muscle."

But it's not because she's gotten tired of her current job. "I try to make it something new and different every day," she says. "The longer I've been in the production, the better focused I've become. I've really learned the show more, so committing to the character's become easier and easier." Which brings her back to George C. Wolfe: "I give him credit because of where I am in my life right now. I think it's the resources and the tools that he gave me that has made it possible to do this show for so long without getting bored or losing interest, because of that value he instilled in me about always telling the truth."

Bob Fosse has something to do with it too. According to Robinson, his work grants dancers a freedom and individuality they may not encounter elsewhere. "Dancers are used to being told what to do; Fosse's work asks you what you feel," she says. "In typical musical theater dancing, you know how you're going to get from point A to point B because the choreographer's going to tell you. He's going to give you all the steps, he may even tell you what you should be thinking. Fosse's style allows you to think what you would like to think in order to achieve it. It's very internal, very cerebral. You inform the steps with what you feel today."

Top photo by Carol Rosegg