Lights Out: Nat 'King' Cole Off-Broadway Reviews

Despite the show’s occasional frivolity, the piece can be terrifying as Cole lets loose with his anger through a letter Davis “encourages” him to write or as he is forced (alongside a teenaged Natalie, who was actually seven at the time) to rec...

Despite the show’s occasional frivolity, the piece can be terrifying as Cole lets loose with his anger through a letter Davis “encourages” him to write or as he is forced (alongside a teenaged Natalie, who was actually seven at the time) to recite the copy of a potential commercial that is downright racist and condescending. “Madison Avenue is afraid of the dark,” Cole is told repeatedly. Even “Mad Men” wasn’t this damning.

The biggest scene-stealer is Watts, who so dominates whenever he takes the stage that you may wish that Sammy Davis Jr.’s name was in the title. Watts flashes a feral energy that’s truly magnetic, and he moves with a catlike grace around the stag...

The biggest scene-stealer is Watts, who so dominates whenever he takes the stage that you may wish that Sammy Davis Jr.’s name was in the title. Watts flashes a feral energy that’s truly magnetic, and he moves with a catlike grace around the stage — and occasionally the auditorium. His tap duet with Hill on “Me and My Shadow” (tap choreography by Jared Grimes) is a burst of percussive performance art. Lights Out is a showcase for some wonderful song and dance, but the luster dims whenever the band stops playing.

Lights Out: Nat “King” Cole seems to yearn for more space to figure out what it wants to do and how. It wavers between the pleasure of its entertaining, simple variety numbers and its energetically strange and fever dream-like approach, yet it mo...

Lights Out: Nat “King” Cole seems to yearn for more space to figure out what it wants to do and how. It wavers between the pleasure of its entertaining, simple variety numbers and its energetically strange and fever dream-like approach, yet it mostly occupies some middle ground of not being strange enough. But Hill and Watts, conjuring the coolness and the fire of Nat and Sammy, are enough to keep the show’s lights on.

Daniel J. Watts is a shinier, more buoyant presence as Sammy Davis Jr., who cajoles and haunts Nat throughout the taping, which grows more and more surreal, evolving into a sort of fever dream — or more of a nightmare, with David Bengali’s video ...

Daniel J. Watts is a shinier, more buoyant presence as Sammy Davis Jr., who cajoles and haunts Nat throughout the taping, which grows more and more surreal, evolving into a sort of fever dream — or more of a nightmare, with David Bengali’s video design and Stacey Derosier’s lighting conspiring to create a hellish atmosphere. “Lights Out” nonetheless proves uplifting, delivering a message of resilience as much as defiance. And while not technically a musical, it offers some of the most delightful music, and singing, available on New York’s stages at the moment.

That blunt messaging proves endemic throughout the 90-minute show, resulting in a serious bummer of an evening. Which is why, when Cole and Sammy Davis Jr. (a tremendous Daniel J. Watts) engage in a fabulous tap-dancing duet, choreographed by Jared G...

That blunt messaging proves endemic throughout the 90-minute show, resulting in a serious bummer of an evening. Which is why, when Cole and Sammy Davis Jr. (a tremendous Daniel J. Watts) engage in a fabulous tap-dancing duet, choreographed by Jared Grimes, on “Me and My Shadow,” the joy of their terpsichorean skills provides a badly needed lift and becomes the highlight of the show. (It doesn’t help that the Davis character, who acts as a sort of Greek chorus, is so dynamic compared to the glum Cole that you wish you were watching an entire show about him instead.)

Are there any other mitigating attractions? There are Hill’s vocals. He sings several of Cole’s signature chart-toppers, delivering entirely his 1949 winner, “Nature Boy.” (A better play might have followed how Cole came to record the mystic...

Are there any other mitigating attractions? There are Hill’s vocals. He sings several of Cole’s signature chart-toppers, delivering entirely his 1949 winner, “Nature Boy.” (A better play might have followed how Cole came to record the mystic Eden Ahbez song.) Sadly, he doesn’t get through the entire “Mona Lisa” (Ray Evans and Jay Livingston), which won the 1950 best song Oscar but might not have if Cole hadn’t sung it to Top 40 acclaim.