Review - Burn The Floor: So You Think You Can Sit Through This

The 2009-10 Broadway season began with a shirtless man and a bikini-clad woman posed dramatically under a spinning disco ball. Soon after, similarly underdressed performers danced their way up and down the aisles of the Longacre Theatre in displays that suggested over-caffeination more than artistry.

Well, as Dorothy Fields put it, "It's not where you start; it's where you finish."

Burn The Floor, a two-act endeavor that claims to reinvent ballroom dancing (apparently by sapping it of anything resembling romance, cleverness or sincere emotion) originated in 1997 as a 50th birthday present for Elton John. (Note to friends and admirers: I'll be perfectly happy with a nice bottle of brandy when I hit the half-century mark this December.) After touring worldwide, the show has now settled on Broadway for a 12-week run, promoted as an entertainment that will especially appeal to fans of television's Dancing With The Stars and So You Think You Can Dance.

The idea seems pretty swell on paper. Director/choreographer Jason Gilkison has assembled a company of 18 title-winning dancers (Damon Sugden & Rebecca Sugden, Trent Whidden & Gordana Grandosek, Damian Whitewood & Petra Murgatroyd, Kevin Clifton & Giselle Peacock, Henry Byalikov & Nuria Santalucia, Sasha Farber & Melanie Hooper, Patrick Helm & Sharna Burgess, Jeremy Garner & Sarah Hives, Robin Windsor & Sarah Soriano), two featured stars (Karina Smirnoff & Maksim Chmerkovskiy, who are with the show through August 16), a pair of vocalists (Ricky Rojas & Rebecca Tapia) and four musicians (Conductor Henry Soriano and Roger Squitero on percussion, David Mann on sax and Earl Maneein on violin and guitar; there is also recorded music used) and has packaged them in a production whose format mirrors the rules of competitive ballroom dancing, known as dancesport. Using "international style," the company performs five Latin American dances (Cha Cha, Samba, Paso Doble, Rumba and Jive) and five Standards (Waltz, Foxtrot, Viennese Waltz, Tango and Quickstep) presented in four sets ("Inspirations," "Things That Swing," "The Latin Quarter" and "Contemporary") that utilize songs as diverse as "Let's Face the Music and Dance, "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" and "Turn The Beat Around." It's a chance to see pairs who are accustomed to dancing competitively working together as an ensemble, with various spotlight moments.

Unfortunately this world class talent is engulfed in an evening of tackiness trying to pass itself off as sexy. The frequently smoke-filled floor, Rick Belzer's intrusive lighting and costume designer Janet Hine's (working from John Van Gastel's originals) monotonously skin-revealing creations are too obvious to suggest anything sensual, but it's Gilkison's choreography, relentless in its determination to heat up the night with splits, tight clinches, gyrations and hip-swaying that quickly turns the evening into a dull affair. His staging of group numbers -- and the show is dominated by group numbers -- lacks texture. Routines tend to stay on the same level of aggressive athleticism serving more as skill demonstrations than expressions of artistry.

There are exceptions. Smirnoff and Chmerkovskiy earn their star billing by displaying some legitimate adult emotions in their pairing set to Rojas' vocal of "Burn For You." Even better, in my book, was a heartbreaking little fantasy (and if the Playbill listed who danced what routines I could tell you who was in it) where a rejected woman imagines herself romantically dancing with the stranger who just passed her by for another partner.

But such moments are cancelled out by the inclusion of questionable choices such as the Viennese Waltz to "Nights In White Satin" that seems to exist simply for the costume opportunity and an "all technique, no emotion" bit where a stageful of ladies in white fringe minis shake their best Tina Turner shimmies to "Proud Mary."

Yes, yes, I know... there are perhaps some true aficionados of ballroom dance reading this and wondering what business I have criticizing the efforts of artists from a culture I know nothing about. And I'll readily admit that whatever skill I may have in critiquing dance lies in how it pertains to musical theatre. But Burn The Floor is playing in a Broadway house and the producers have chosen to invite Broadway theatre critics to review it (no, those invitations are not transferable) so I'm obligated to write about it in the context I know best; that of being a theatre entertainment. I welcome any comments from those more familiar with dancesport to be posted below. In the meantime I'll just wait for autumn, when a bounty of new plays and musicals will be coming in. That's when I expect the Broadway season to really heat up.

Top photo by Kevin Berne; Bottom photo by Mark Kitaoka

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