QUEEN OF THE GYPSIES

It’s a relief that Chita Rivera, one of the last great holdovers from the Golden Age of Broadway still performing today, told the audience in Costa Mesa that she doesn’t read notices. For while Chita the phenomenon is deservedly worthy of appreciation, Chita Rivera: My Broadway is so flat and surprisingly unemotional that the event would more aptly be called Chita Rivera: My Nightclub Act On The Love Boat. This may be the final leg of her tour, but, sad to say, it also points to what should be the final tour of her legs. Oh, the unconquerable Queen of the Gypsies will continue to find audiences for future shows, performing in different incarnations than this 75 minute, 14 number set, but at what point does a legend hang up her toe shoes and admit defeat to the ravages of time?

Appreciative fans will no doubt look past the faltering vocals in wonderment that she still outshines others of her age (79 next January) – indeed, she looks positively stunning and exudes a sexy spunkiness which truly inspires. She still retains that magnificent Fosse-esque angularity of style in posture and arm movements, but her dancing is limited to that of an aerobics instructor at a retirement community, one who executes crosses and tiny kicks with aplomb (“Bless her heart” and “Where does she get that energy?” were overheard after the performance).

The vast numbers of retirees in the house are getting what they paid for: An Eveready Bunny of A Broadway Legend whose nostalgic presence validates the “good ol’ days,” while her plucky charisma and gung-ho spirit motivate them to keep moving. But the non-linear, run-on reminiscences combined with weak vocals made me worry that I will now forever remember Chita as an extraordinarily preserved relic of her former self (the amazing agility belonging to someone of her age is even more astounding considering the16 metal pins in her leg as a result of a 1986 traffic accident). Unlike the raconteur Elaine Stritch, whose blue tell-all accounts of Old Broadway made up for an aging body, Chita simply made me wince when she blew a kiss up to lyricist Fred Ebb in heaven.

No one can deny that this triple-threat gypsy – dancer, comedienne, and warbler – belongs to the pantheon of the Broadway firmament: her star turns in West Side Story (1957) and Bye Bye Birdie (1960) are legendary, but most of her shows since then were flops, save Chicago (1975) and Kiss of the Spider Woman (1993), when she saved an interminable show that never figured out what it wanted to be. Her performance as Aurora was rife with the heart-and-soul of a Broadway performer, a well-trained professional and survivor of the ups and downs of show business with an indomitable spirit that matched her distinctive, husky chirrup and lithe legginess. Even then at 60, she sounded, looked and danced better than her younger gypsies.

For now, Chita Rivera can be seen as one who is, and always will be, that brave, prideful, immortal of the stage, as well as a valiant heroine of the theatre who survives every upset, including a car accident, aging, and, above all, stinker shows.

Chita Rivera: My Broadway
Samueli Theatre at Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Costa Mesa
closes November 13, 2011
for tickets, visit SCFTA