The genesis of the musical A Chorus Line is well known to the point of cliche: a bunch of frustrated dancers convened for a bitch session, which director/choreographer Michael Bennett taped and used as the raw material for his classic long-running show.
Over the years since that mythic, cathartic night, articles and even books have surfaced in which the participants have regretted the fact that they gave up their lives for somebody else's profit: Michael Bennett died a very rich man, and to this day A Chorus Line remains a highly profitable asset for the Bennett estate. The New York Times recently ran an article dredging up those oft-cited grievances of the ACL alumni: why did I sign my life away?
Here's the problem: there's very little precedent in art, literature, or journalism for story sources to profit from a published work. There are exceptions, of course, but by and large it just doesn't happen. I don't pay people to appear in any of the articles I write. Authors of biographies generally do not pay their subjects.
Because the dancers who bared their souls on that snowy night in 1974 didn't create A Chorus Line: Michael Bennett did. It was his inspiration, his conception, his execution. Yes, he fashioned the show out of the stories of other people's lives. But if different dancers had been at that taping session, the show would likely still have happened, albeit with somewhat altered content. I mean, that's one of the points of the show, right: that the experiences of these dancers were universal, something in which we could all find identification?
It all comes down to greed. When something becomes a huge success, whether it's a Broadway musical or a start-up company, people want to reap the benefits of someone else's risk. Because what if A Chorus Line had not been a huge international hit? What if it shuttered at a loss? Would the original cast have come forth and volunteered to help the original producers and creators cover the losses of a financially unsuccessful show?
Somehow I doubt it.
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