`CELEBRATION' A SLEEK, STYLISH TRIBUTE.

Byline: Reed Johnson Daily News Theater Critic

Nobody wants to upstage the guest of honor at his own career retrospective. Especially when the VIP deserves the red-carpet treatment as much as the late director-choreographer Bob Fosse.

So it's appropriate that the strongest personality to step forward from ``Fosse: A Celebration in Song and Dance'' is that of its namesake, an elegant ruffian who died in 1987 at the far-too-early age of 60.

In this 2-1/2-hour ``greatest hits'' tribute, which opened Wednesday at the Ahmanson Theatre, the richly diverse ensemble of 37 singer-dancers never treads on the long, stylish shadow cast by the man whose oversize image appears only once, in a monochromatic projection.

That's as it should be. But it also accounts for a certain remoteness and anonymity in this otherwise loving, meticulously crafted Broadway-bound homage. Despite strong individual contributions from Valarie Pettiford and Jane Lanier, who worked first-hand with Fosse, and wonderful young dancers like Desmond Richardson, Sergio Trujillo and Elizabeth Parkinson, most performers' personalities stay discreetly hidden under tipped bowler hats and slouched fedoras, until a boffo finale set to Benny Goodman's ``Sing, Sing, Sing'' lets them really strut loose. This creates a conceptual grayness that takes some luster off the show's chic finish.

Even so, ``Fosse'' has enough sparkling moments to supply a splendid testimonial to a true American original.

Conceived by longtime Fosse collaborators Richard Maltby Jr., Chet Walker and Ann Reinking, with artistic input from Fosse's third wife and premiere interpreter, Gwen Verdon, ``Fosse'' unfolds on a stripped-down stage-within-a-stage. Outfitted by designer Santo Loquasto with fake proscenium arches and dramatically layered curtains, and surreally lit by Andrew Bridge, it has an otherworldly feel, as if we'd been transported to some haunted Broadway hall where Fosse's proteges have gathered for one final, ghostly fling.

Dance numbers have been grouped thematically and stylistically, rather than chronologically, into three acts punctuated by two short intermissions. This approach, abetted by Gordon Lowry Harrell's thoughtful musical arrangements, emphasizes that as America kept changing its tune from '50s mock tangoes and soft-shoes to the funky bass line-driven '70s and the percussive '80s, Fosse changed with it.

The Act 1 ``prologue'' establishes the show's brisk pace, as Pettiford's muscular rendition of ``Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries'' (from Fosse's last musical, ``Big Deal'') segues into a montage of signature gestures from ``Damn Yankees,'' ``Red Head,'' ``Cabaret,'' ``Chicago,'' ``Sweet Charity'' and other works, performed by the full company looking like a small army of Charlie Chaplins.

The show amply illustrates Fosse's belief that dancers impersonating baseball players, garment workers or underworld felons could express themselves with their bodies as sublimely as Kirov swans. He developed an angular vernacular of swiveling heads and thrust-back shoulders, of wiggling fingers and well-toned derrieres jiggling in ways that simultaneously spoofed and exalted sexuality.

Raunchier and more naturalistic than his classically trained colleague Jerome Robbins, he brought an all-American brashness to the Broadway dance lexicon. Drawing on native forms derived from vaudeville and burlesque, as well as the work of such predecessors as Agnes de Mille and Jack Cole, he invested even the most low-rent raw material with grace, humor and silky sophistication.

``Fosse'' honors that spirit by sequing straight from the droll cynicism of ``Big Spender'' - laconically performed here by 10 female dancers posing as robotic street walkers - to the poetic hopefulness of ``Crunchy Granola Suite,'' from a previous Fosse tribute, the 1978 ``Dancin'.''

``Fosse'' treats us not only to these highlights of his Broadway career and his 1979 quasi-autobiographical Faustian feature film ``All That Jazz,'' but also to small, reconstructed gems such as a 45-second bit from the movie of ``Kiss Me Kate'' and the ``Cool Hand Luke'' number from a Bob Hope TV special.

In aiming for comprehensiveness, however, the show inevitably winds up repeating itself. Take for instance ``Steam Heat,'' the incendiary number from ``Pajama Game,'' superbly executed here by Lanier, Michael Paternostro and Alex Sanchez, popping and thrusting like air-blasted pistons. It's a tough act to follow, which may be why the similar ``Dancin' Dan (Me and My Shadow)'' feels anticlimactic.

Act 3, which showcases Fosse's darker side, also needs recontextualizing. The ``Manson Trio'' number from ``Pippin,'' with its spooky voiceover of death tolls from various world wars, makes a bumpy lead-in to Pettiford's ice-cool rendition of ``Mein Herr.''

Weimar decadence is supposed to be equated with '70s free love in the subsequent ``Take Off With Us'' routine. But this number, so cracklingly erotic in ``All That Jazz,'' is here reduced to three same-sex and mixed-sex couples performing semi-suggestive pas de deux. You can see hotter stuff any night of the week on MTV.

Today's tabooless pop culture also has affected our perception of Fosse's rough-housing baseball players from ``Damn Yankees,'' who now look a bit dandyish and quaint compared to the boot-crunching denizens of ``Tap Dogs,'' ``STOMP!'' and ``Bring in 'Da Noise, Bring in 'Da Funk.''

Where Fosse's work hasn't lost a single step is in its deft, minimalist evocation of character. When Pettiford and Lanier close out Act 2 with ``The Hot Honey Rag'' from ``Chicago,'' we're reminded anew what a great dancer can do with a cane, a black body stocking and an attitude. Fosse could do it all. When will we see his like again?

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Photo

Photo: Dancers perform ``Rich Man's Frug'' as part of ``Fosse: A Celebration in Song and Dance,'' at the Ahmanson Theatre.

Michael Owen Baker/Daily News