Georgina Pazcoguin and Barton Cowperthwaite Photo by Bjorn Bolinder

The format is very like Jerome Robbins' Broadway, that repository of the great director-choreographer's works that filled up the Imperial for a year and a half some 35 years ago: a dance from this, a dance from that, each a discrete entity unrelated to the next, rather like turning the pages of a very animated picture book. Here, each is credited with not only a choreographer but a "stager," which presumably means a choreographer who remembers the steps and imparted them to the cast. Some formidable names appear among this bunch: Donna McKechnie, Baayork Lee, and Robert LaFosse, to name three.

Such a format has its advantages and disadvantages. From moment to moment it's often great fun to watch, and the 14 talented dancers now populating the Theatre at St. Jean's get ample opportunity to strut their stuff. But stripped of the context surrounding them in the shows from which they're derived, the numbers sometimes struggle to achieve the same impact. I recall The King and I's "Small House of Uncle Thomas" ballet from Jerome Robbins' Broadway: awesome choreography, stunning artistry, but the compelling story encasing it, Tuptim trying to escape with Lun Tha and all, got lost.

Then there's the star quality quotient. If you're pretending to be Gene Kelly or Gwen Verdon, you'd better have some charisma to go along with the footwork, and that's not always the case here. To be sure, there are some standouts. Jessica Lee Goldyn, in costume designer Marlene Olson Hamm's fabulous white feathered minidress, practically shakes herself apart in "Teach Me How to Shimmy" from Smokey Joe's Café. Later, her Cassie, negotiating A Chorus Line's "The Music and the Mirror," is not only beautifully danced but smartly acted; when she confesses to Zach, "I can't act," you know that Goldyn can. Brandon Burks out-taps his colleagues (though they're also wonderful) in "I Love a Piano," from White Christmas, and he looks ready to be a Broadway lead. The other dozen, well, they can plié and tour jeté and kick their heels above their heads with the best of them. But they vary in vocal prowess, and also in levels of that certain something that makes you unable to take your eyes off them.

There's also the familiarity factor. "All I Need Is the Girl," complete with setup dialogue–didn't we just see that at the Majestic? Why on earth isn't Jess Leprotto's Tulsa, assisted by Deanna Doyle's Louise, wearing taps? (Plus, as he's outlining the routine to her and gets to "strings come in!," they don't; the seven-piece ensemble here, directed by Eugene Gwozdz, is large by York Theatre standards and safely stashed in the pit, but it's stringless, and billed as "Band.") West Side Story's "Cool," which closes the first act, is so iconic that you can probably play it in your head; and Drew Minard, for me at least, doesn't have the forcefulness we expect of a Riff.

It's a diverse assemblage of cherished moments from great and not-so-great musicals. But, what, no Agnes de Mille, Michael Kidd, Onna White, Joe Layton? (Plenty of Robbins, Bob Fosse, Michael Bennett, and Randy Skinner, who shares directing credit with Atkins.) The numbers that work best, it seems, are the ones that are self-contained narratives. Case in point: "Mr. Monotony," which premiered in Jerome Robbins' Broadway after being excised from "Easter Parade" at MGM and Miss Liberty in New York. The dance that follows Afra Hines's vocal, a nice moment of stillness in itself, is a wittily choreographed romantic triangle with a beginning, middle, and end, nimbly danced by Georgina Pazcoguin, Barton Cowperthwaite, and Taylor Stanley. And Lynne Taylor-Corbett's lindy hop for "Sing, Sing, Sing," from Swing!, with Samantha Siegel and Anthony Cannarella leading a leaping ensemble, might be the five most joyous minutes you'll see on a stage this season. But Christopher Wheeldon's An American in Paris pas de deux, though lovingly danced by Cowperthwaite and Pazcoguin, doesn't seem to be about much of anything. And Susan Stroman's lengthy "Simply Irresistible" sequence from Contact, while it does tell a self-contained story, isn't as impactful as I remember it being in 2000.

No set to speak of, but why would you want one? It would just clutter up the stage. Ken Billington's lighting is lovely, and Brian C. Staton's modest projections don't distract us from all that movement. A mixed bag of dances then, but an entertaining reminder of much of what we love about Broadway (and Hollywood, in a couple of cases) musicals, a propulsive 100 minutes to celebrate the holidays with, and a winning showcase for some up-and-coming talent. They got the expected standing ovation last night, and generally speaking, they deserved it.