Moves and a mission

On an unseasonably hot day recently, the sidewalk outside the Orpheum Theatre is filled with an unusual sight for this stretch of unreclaimed downtown -- several scores of young dancers clad in tights, sweats, tutus and belly dancing outfits sprawl across the shaded ground under the marquee. But being dancers, they don't sprawl quietly; instead the mass of them constantly undulates and seethes like some many-tentacled sea creature.

The theater's front door flies open and a young man races out to the sidewalk, where he does a series of cartwheels, back flips and winged summersaults, all the while clutching in his hand a magical sheet of paper -- a ticket past the auditions to the next round of TV's freewheeling dance competition, "So You Think You Can Dance," which kicked off its fourth season on Fox last week (8 p.m. Wednesdays and Thursdays).

Dance is enjoying something of a mini-renaissance, with the success of both "So You Think You Can Dance" and ABC's "Dancing With the Stars," along with the cable shows "America's Best Dance Crew" (MTV) and "Step It Up and Dance" (Bravo), as well as the "High School Musical" franchise. But we are also living in a culture that has not created a household-name dance superstar in two decades, so their shot on stage here today may be these young dancers' best (or only) shot at making their dreams of a dancing career with monetary rewards come true. (The winner will receive $250,000.)

Inside the vast, ancient movie palace, 20 or so dancers sit nervously in the rows of seats, while on stage, one by one, their comrades give it their all before the show's judges, Nigel Lythgoe, Mary Murphy and judge/choreographer Mia Michaels. Although "Dance" is the little brother of entertainment goliath "American Idol" -- run by the same production company and overseen by Lythgoe, who is "Idol's" executive producer -- the tone at these auditions is markedly different from the "Idol" audition episodes, which are dominated by freakish appearances from misguided wannabes, each of whom is unceremoniously informed of the bitter truth about their negligible talents and dispatched under a curtain of invective.

At the Orpheum, the tone of the auditions, while rigorous and pitiless in its decisions, is dramatically more paternal, with even the most misguided finding a ray of helpful advice to take away. As Arabian belly dancers, urban breakers, krumpers, swingers and Scottish step-dancers, each stands in suspended tension, panting from their just-completed routines. Lythgoe, Murphy and Michaels conduct a short therapy session with each of them, pointedly noting their shortcomings but also talking over how they might improve.