Michael Dale

But if I seem less than completely enthused about what is undoubted the best anti-Margaret Thatcher musical to hit Broadway since Blood Brothers, it's because, despite an interesting story told through exceptionally vivid, dramatic visuals delivered by director Stephen Daldry and choreographer Peter Darling via a mostly excellent cast, the music of Elton John and the book and lyrics of Lee Hall, while never awful, rarely achieve a quality that surpasses reasonably competent. Now, reasonably competent is nothing to be sneered at these days. I can name a few recent productions that might have welcomed the opportunity to display the quote 'Reasonably Competent!' outside their theatres. And while good direction, impressive production values and fine casting can sometimes make an evening of lesser material somewhat bearable, Messrs. Daldry and Darling skillfully dangle so many pretty, shiny things in front of the audience that if you block out the shoddy jokes, serviceable songs and plethora of moments that screech the evening to a halt you might find yourself convinced you were witnessing high art.

The beauty that Rodgers and Bennett provide musically is matched visually by set designer Michael Yeargan, who utilizes the Vivian Beaumont Theatre's thrust stage to create a vast beachscape that peaks at an upstage sand dune, and Donald Holder, who sumptuously lights evening scenes and romantic interludes. And what Bartlett Sher's production does so well is contrast the beauty of the locale with the ugliness displayed by some who occupied those innocent shores during World War II.

Musical theatre lovers who like their leading characters emotionally aloof and commitment-phobic can now enjoy a worthy companion piece to the upcoming revival of Company. Mary Poppins has flown into town in a ravishing production that kicks all that sentimental nonsense about familial closeness into the wings and pushes the heartwarming thrills of good ol' fashioned music hall song and dance fun downstage center. Don't go expecting to see a stage version of the movie, but by all means do go.

Now we have Jersey Boys; an exceedingly fun and electrifyingly staged tale of the rise and fall of The Four Seasons, which smartly uses their hit songs as a sort of background soundtrack to the story of a group of blue-collar guys establishing a distinctive sound during the early years of rock and roll. They sing songs on stages, in clubs, and in recording studios, but, aside from a couple of missteps, never as part of a book scene. And yet director Des McAnuff, by being very stingy with applause breaks until the audience is ready to burst, and bookwriters Marshall Brickman & Rick Elice, by deftly weaving the dialogue in and out of the music, have found a method to use songs to fuel the story without overwhelming it. Fans of The Four Seasons may walk in excited to hear familiar favorites like 'Sherry', 'Big Girls Don't Cry', 'Rag Doll' and 'Walk Like a Man', but they should leave the theatre impressed with how plot-driven the entire production is without ever short-handing the music. The jukebox musical has found its Pal Joey; a bit flawed, but ambitious, gritty, clever and professional.