"No panties on view. This is all about romantic elegance. I want to bring back that beautiful choreography and that way of telling a story in dance."

Mr. Mitchell is the busiest choreographer on Broadway. He created dances for "The Full Monty," and "Hairspray," as well as creating additional choreography for "Gypsy"; he also conceived, directs and choreographs "Broadway Bares," a popular comedy burlesque performed annually to benefit Broadway Cares, an AIDS charity. But "Never Gonna Dance," which opens on Thursday at the Broadhurst Theater, is the first show he has choreographed that revolves almost entirely around dance.

"We knew we could count on Jerry," said the director, Michael Greif, who last did "Rent." "He knows how to build scenes and develop characters. There's nothing superfluous in his choreography."

The tall and boyish-looking Mr. Mitchell, 43, who played varsity football in his hometown of Paw Paw, Mich., began the project by immersing himself in the period and style, familiar to him from his stints dancing in "On Your Toes" on Broadway and choreographing "Follies" at the Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, N.J. He memorized the tuneful Jerome Kern score, dancing to the songs in his living room and at the gym.

Then he put the old film out of his mind, he says, because choreographing for the stage is very different from choreographing for film. "In theater you have to keep the audience's focus on where on the stage the story is developing and make sure you don't have anything else going on that will compete with it," he said. "In film, the director, the cameras and the editors do that work for you."

Mr. Mitchell said one of his biggest concerns was choosing the leads, the star-crossed lovers Lucky and Penny. "I couldn't teach singers to dance like Fred and Ginger," he said, "but I could take two great dancers and give them that style."

He sought out two relative newcomers, Noah Racey, who last appeared on Broadway in "Thoroughly Modern Millie," and Nancy Lemenager, who was in "42nd Street." "As soon as I saw them dance together," he said, "I knew they fit. They felt phrases in the same way."

During workshops over the last two years, Mr. Mitchell had opened the show with Mr. Racey and three female dancers emerging from a giant wedding cake in a fluffy number straight out of an old MGM musical. After the first previews, he had second thoughts. "I have to get certain information to the audience as quickly as possible," he said. "That looked good but it didn't do the job."

Mr. Mitchell replaced the original opening with a boisterous tap dance for Mr. Racey, who finishes with an explanation of why Lucky must stop dancing. "He's a professional dancer," he said, "who has vowed to give up dancing and earn $25,000 in New York City to prove his seriousness to his fiancée's father. Now the audience gets that information right away."

The next scene showcases Mr. Mitchell's ingenuity. Set in a fanciful re-creation of Grand Central Terminal, the scene lasts 11 1/2 minutes, unusually long for a musical. "This is where the show really gets under way," he said. "I rely a lot on combining dance and pantomime here, something I learned assisting Jerry Robbins."

Lucky has just arrived in the city, determined to keep his promise. But everything conspires against him. He hears a beat when a newsstand dealer throws down his papers; he hears more rhythms in the clickety clack of the high heels worn by secretaries as they saunter through the station on their way to work. Even the tooting of the train whistle provides a beat. A captive of rhythm, Lucky is unable to resist, and he delights the denizens of the station with his virtuosic dancing.

Mr. Mitchell said he depended on Zane Mark, the dance music arranger, to compose arrangements of the songs that conveyed Mr. Mitchell's ideas through music. "We're partners," Mr. Mitchell said. "He tries to tell the same story in music that I'm telling in dance. Sometimes he follows my lead; sometimes I follow his."

Mr. Mitchell found the production demanding for both him and the cast. "In the first two weeks of choreographing," he said, "I went through three T-shirts a day and lost 20 pounds demonstrating the steps, before realizing Noah and Nancy could never do what I was doing and still sing. They'd be too winded. So now they sing first and then the dances expand on the lyrics."

He was impressed with their training and technique, affectionately calling them "my thoroughbreds": "I gave them ballet, modern, tap, jazz dance, the full arsenal of musical theater dance. Who else wouldn't bat an eye when I asked them to dance five feet off the ground on an 18-inch beam?"

But in the scene in question — set in a nightclub under construction on top of a skyscraper — Mr. Mitchell did not start them off on a beam. "We first learned the dance on the floor," Ms. Lemenager said. "Then we graduated to doing it on top of boxes. I grew up doing gymnastics, so it wasn't so difficult."

Mr. Mitchell wasn't taking any chances. He took them out to the Hudson Scenic Studio in Yonkers, where the sets were being built, and had them try out the dance on the actual beam that would be used in the show, five feet off the ground. "It took a little getting used to," Ms. Lemenager said, "but now we don't think twice about it."

As Mr. Mitchell watched them rehearse on the beam at the Broadhurst, he recalled how serendipity had played a part in choreographing the dance. "I created this dance at a studio with a big pole in the center," he said. "I kept wrapping my arm around the pole unconsciously when I moved back and forth, until eventually it became essential to the choreography."

Ms. Lemenager stood on the beam with her arm around a pole. When Mr. Racey reached out his hand, she tentatively stepped toward him, looking nervous about relinquishing its security. He coaxed her to him, inviting her to waltz. She let go. When they stopped dancing, she stood behind him, her arms around his waist as he walked slowly across the beam. They then changed positions, and she led the way back.

"The dance is all about trust," Mr. Mitchell said. "They're at that point in a relationship, when you think, `Do I or don't I go on?' Up there, on the beam, he wins her over. They grow closer and the story progresses."

Asked the secret of his choreography, Mr. Mitchell said: "You have to find the reality in the world you are creating. Then the actors will believe the steps you give them. If they believe them, they will know how to tell the story. It's all about making sense."

Source: NY Times