Tommy Tune’s skill in reassembling a musical’s various elements into a new entity was pushed to an extreme with Grand Hotel. He chopped up, or spliced, the book (by Luther Davis) and songs (by George Forrest and Robert Wright) into a mosaic of melody, movement, and dialogue that conveyed the simultaneous urgent, heated activities of a hotel staff and guests. Tune workshopped Grand Hotel not in a rehearsal studio, but in a dilapidated hotel whose once-elegant ballroom evoked the ambiance of the show’s setting, 1928 Berlin. His desire for nonstop movement, with no waiting for set pieces to arrive, led him to utilize more than forty gold chairs that could be endlessly configured to create a suite of rooms, a hallway, or a bank of telephone operators. Grand Hotel’s direction and staging became inseparable from its book and musical program. It was more tightly choreographed than any previous Tune musical, with the theatrical equivalents of filmic quick cuts and dissolves. Tune was acknowledged as the last of the superstar director-choreographers, and Grand Hotel was one of the most strikingly staged musicals of its era. But there was grumbling that Tune’s dazzling stagecraft was in service of weak material and, moreover, that he preferred it that way, allowing him to come to the rescue and deliver a hit through his superior staging skills. The star of any Tommy Tune musical now appeared to be Tommy Tune.