More than 30 years after its debut, A Chorus Line has worked its way back onto the general public's radar.

More than 30 years after its debut, A Chorus Line has worked its way back onto the general public's radar.

Over the past few weeks, Every Little Step, a documentary about the Broadway revival of the hit 1970s musical, has been doing respectable business in limited release, and you can currently hear Will Ferrell playing and singing favorite selections from the score throughout Land of the Lost.

As conceived, the work is timeless, an ode to the generations of singular dancers who've struggled just to obtain a spot in the anonymous line of waving arms and kicking legs behind a musical star.

Unfortunately, the touring revival feels dated despite some retooling of the original choreography, and it mutes the characters' individual personalities.

The show begins in chaos, the stage lights rising to reveal a group of dancers at an audition, trying with varying degrees of success to learn the moves and crying, -God I Hope I Get It.-

After several are whittled away early, the remaining 17 performers vying for eight spots are subjected to questions about their backgrounds by Zach (Kevin Neil McCready), the director they're all hoping to impress.

There's Mike (Clyde Alves), the boy who took over his sister's dance lessons; Sheila (Emily Fletcher), the veteran who's replacing youth with attitude; Paul (Bryan Knowlton), whose first professional gig was in a drag show; Val (Mindy Dougherty), the formerly plain dancer who happily touts the benefits of plastic surgery; and Cassie (Robyn Hurder), who used to be a rising star and Zach's romantic partner but hasn't worked in two years.

As each takes a turn in the spotlight, the random, somewhat out-of-control feeling that opens the show never fully goes away, and the sense of urgency they all feel in relation to their careers unfavorably colors the entire piece. It's like the revival production is playing a game of Beat the Clock.

With performers rushing through lyrics and line readings, their words don't register at times, much less the emotions behind them. The speed results in something that feels too heavily rehearsed, as well as a lot of pitchiness, dawg.

Still, as befitting the Darwinian ways of Broadway, a couple of performers rise above. In his monologue, Knowlton manages to shake off the production's staginess, while Hurder perfectly captures the moves and bearing that make Zach hesitant to stick Cassie in the background.