Jersey Boys

I'm sadly a little late coming to this party. When I lived in New York, I would manage to get to all the hot Broadway shows within six months of their opening. In the bi-coastal travel arena, I can't do that as well. I know I got to see the original edition of 'The Producers" pretty quickly, but I have been lagging otherwise. I'm officially the Ed Kranepool of theater goers.

"Jersey Boys" has been around for over a year now, having cleaned up on the Tony Awards in June, 2006. Most of my friends back East are on their second and third viewings of this. I check for tickets and discover good seats are readily available sometime in 2012. So, I resort to doing what Los Angelenos have doing for years. I wait for the National Tour to hit town. It has. And, the other night, I did.

I long ago made the realization that you don't get cheated by national touring companies putting on established productions. Sometimes, here in SoCal, you get lucky. The wonderful "Drowsy Chaperone" actually started here at the Ahmanson Theater and I saw the original cast long before they hit the Marriott Marquis. But, touring actors are also working actors and generally no less talented than those toiling on Broadway. To be truthful, having seen "The Producers" first with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick on Broadway, I can say unequivocably that the LA version of the same show with Jason Alexander and the always extraordinary Martin Short was a much more balanced rendition. Hey, overall, the LA theater going experience is generally a notch up over Broadway. Here, people still dress for the theater. A while back, I actually saw some slob in New York's Winter Garden theater wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt. And they do observe the "no food" rules here. During my last several shows on Broadway, I have been appalled by dumbbells showing up with bags of gas station-purchased snacks like they were plopping down on the couch for a night of CSI. But, as usual, I digress....

Now, I had already heard how terrific the Tony Award-winning Broadway cast of "Jersey Boys" was. So, I was holding my breath at what type of show I would be seeing at the Ahmanson. I had already read that the national cast sported much more of an edge in their interpretations of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. As a result, I am not sure what I got the other night vis-a-vis the Broadway rendition. I can tell you that the show itself was a rousing piece of entertainment. While I certainly know their music, I didn't know much of the back story of the group. I always figured that Frankie Valli had pulled some diva act with the other, much akin to how Diana Ross steamrolled the Supremes. It's indeed the other way around. So, there was a whole bunch of amazing discovery for me with this show. I didn't know Valli's daughter had died due to drugs. I had no clue that the group that was backing up Frankie Valli in the later years were a completely different set of guys. I knew there was some Joe Pesci connection, but I did not know how deeply. So, I essentially came out of the theater, not only being entertained but educated as well. My tenth grade theater appreciation teacher would have been pleased.

All the performances were top notch. I never heard of a single one of them, but that didn't detract from the evening one iota. This is a show clearly built for unknowns. Although, if it lasts on Broadway for as long as I think it will, I am sure we will come to the day when John Stamos is playing the lead.

Here's a clip of the LA cast when they did that hackneyed Jay Leno's gabfest a few weeks back.

In a lot of respects, "Jersey Boys" is really nothing more than Four Seasons-Mania. But, it energizes every audience that sees it. That's not always a good thing. I've got an issue when audience members sing along with tunes during the show. I had two 60 year-old gas bags doing just that behind me, probably reliving the days when they got vinyl burns in the back seat of a Camaro. I'm there to hear the performers, not two repressed housewives from Lawndale. About midway through the first act, I rolled up my program and turned to give them both an air swat. Just as if I was training the dog, they both got the message and hit the newspaper for the rest of the night.

It's true. Big girls don't cry.

Dinner last night: homemade chili.