THEATER REVIEW
“Maurice Hines Is Tappin’ Thru Life”
Grade: A
7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays; 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays; 7:30 p.m. Sundays. Through May 4. $30-$75. Alliance Theatre, 1280 Peachtree St. N.E., Atlanta. 404-733-5000, alliancetheatre.org.
Bottom line: Seriously good.
In their little bow ties, jackets and shorts, Maurice and Gregory Hines were so irresistibly cute — marching off to tap class at 5 and 3 — that they virtually willed themselves into public view. As talented as they were adorable, they used their hot little feet to fabulous effect, tap-dancing their way from the Apollo Theatre in Harlem to gigs with Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, Lena Horne and innumerable others.
Though Gregory, the younger and more famous of the siblings, died in 2003, at 57, 70-year-old Maurice is still hoofing. And in his lovingly performed career retrospective, “Maurice Hines Is Tappin’ Thru Life,” at the Alliance Theatre through May 4, he makes a case that he’s the last of the great vaudevillians.
Like “Elaine Stritch at Liberty,” Hines’ revue is a glibly fascinating compendium of singing, dancing and storytelling. Sassy, charismatic and ever-upbeat, the husky-voiced Hines narrates the contours of his biography by pairing personal anecdotes and the occasional political zinger with emotionally charged jazz standards.
When he sings Frank Loesser’s “I’ve Never Been in Love Before,” you believe him. And when he says he misses his little brother, dancing next to a spotlight representing a person no longer with us, you feel a sense of loss that is at once sentimental and celebratory.
Backed by the all-female Diva Jazz Orchestra, a brassy ensemble that excels at the swinging Nelson Riddle sound, Hines doesn’t actually tap until the final 20 minutes of the 90-minute one act. Then he faces off with John and Leo Manzari, a pair of super-duper, tap-dancing siblings who bring energy and hipness to a venerated form that is slowly disappearing.
Like the Hines and the Nicholas brothers before them, the good-looking Manzaris derive their considerable sizzle from their mirrored silhouettes — and their one-upmanship. (“Don’t applaud them,” Hines says devilishly as the brothers try to upstage his monologues.) If this virtuosic duo represents the future of tap, sign me up. (The charming and diminutive Leilani Negron, a 10-year-old Atlanta kid Hines found at an Atlanta audition, is pretty remarkable, too.)
Though Hines wrote and choreographed the career retrospective, he gives director Jeff Calhoun (Broadway’s “Newsies”) credit for polishing and perfecting it.
On the design side, Tobin Ost contributes a modular set that evokes the variety-hour, Rat Pack-era to which Hines is indebted. And T. Tyler Stumpf’s costumes are crisp and elegant — cream-colored suits for the Manzaris; studies in black and white for the big star.
In the course of the evening, Hines inserts two powerful political comments. First, he salutes the Supreme Court for striking down the Defense of Marriage Act, then, in a rare touch of camp, sings Lerner and Loewe’s “Get Me to the Church on Time.” Later, after an anecdote involving Tallulah Bankhead and a Las Vegas swimming pool, he croons Chaplin’s “Smile,” to heartbreaking effect.
A living link to the days when stars like Sinatra, Garland and Sammy Davis Jr. were consummate performers who could sing, dance and act effortlessly on stage, TV and film, Hines shares delicious material about all of the above, and more. “Lena,” he says of the elegant chanteuse, “was on another level.” Dean Martin was the coolest cat he ever met. And as the Hines brothers discovered when they opened for Garland, the legend didn’t rehearse. She went from limo to stage, showing up just in time to go on.
As evidenced by this near-perfect tribute to his rich and rhythmic life, no doubt this indefatigable trouper could do the same.
