A Chorus Line

Michael Bennett's 1975 Broadway hit was a triumph of edgy nerve and steamroller energy. Attenborough's film version is anything but. The grit and drive of the original have been dissipated into studiously unkempt glitz as empty as plasticised pop. A group of dancers (auditioning for a new show) are put through the hoops of humiliation by the director (Douglas), a mild-mannered sadist who delves into their private parts with voyeuristic enthusiasm, but Attenborough and screenwriter Arnold Schulman fail to justify this guy's nasty Citizen Kane megalomania. It's too corny and unbelievable for words.