Jersey Boys

Ahmanson Theatre
135 N. Grand Ave., L.A.
Through Aug. 31
Tuesday-Friday 8 p.m.
Saturday 2 p.m. & 8 p.m.
Sunday 2 p.m. & 7:30 p.m.
Tickets: $20-100
(213) 972-4400
www.CenterTheatreGroup.org

Near the end of the first act of Jersey Boys, the Tony-winning jukebox musical that tells the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons using the band's own endless catalog of hits, the audience's perspective is shifted and we find ourselves behind the famed quartet during a concert, their backs to us as they face the blindingly bright lights shining at them (and us) from upstage. For a moment, it is forgotten that we all came expecting a piece of theater, and instead—bathed in the shared golden light—we enjoy the communal excitement of a rock concert.

That moment points up what is best and worst about this wafer-thin but magnificently produced bio-musical. Director Des McAnuff, who learned a few things about putting '60s rock music on the Broadway stage with his Tony-winning turn as director of The Who's Tommy, pulls out all the stops in staging Jersey Boys, creating thrilling moments when the two-dimensional characters and clichéd rags-to-riches tale hardly warrant them. And while the score does nothing to further the plot—the hits are presented, appropriately, as performances by the band—the songs are so wonderfully familiar that they create their own excitement.

The cast is strong, doing their best to animate the clumsy book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice that indulges in every “old neighborhood” cliché and gum-chewing Jersey stereotype. As Valli, Christopher Kale Jones delivers some powerhouse performances, particularly on the singer's big solo hit, “Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You.” As the band's bad boy, Tommy DeVito, Deven May struts and blusters appropriately, and Michael Ingersoll's Nick Massi, the self-proclaimed “Ringo” of the group, is a strong presence throughout. It is Erich Bergen, as the soft-spoken songwriter Bob Gaudio, who makes the strongest impression, his engagingly gawky stage presence and wry humor often alleviating the script's “and-then-this-happened” structure.

One glaring disconnect is the treatment of producer Bob Crewe. While the program bills him as sole lyricist—meaning he wrote the words to everything from “Big Girls Don't Cry” to “Who Loves You”—the show presents him as a swishy, fussy queen who nags in the studio but is never seen contributing a word to the iconic songs. The stereotype (as played by John Altieri) is no more egregious than any other in the show, but this critical character's role in the story seems misrepresented.

The design elements are superlative, especially for a road company. Klara Zieglerova's versatile industrial-style set is lit gorgeously by Howell Binkley, and everybody looks great in Jess Goldstein's period costumes.

In the end, however, it is the score that scores in Jersey Boys. And what a score it is. Even without much of a book or dramatic arc, when those four guys harmonize the hits, it's pretty hard to resist. —Christopher Cappiello

Missouri Waltz

2nd Stage Theatre
6500 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood
Thursday-Saturday 8 p.m., Sunday 3 p.m.
Through July 1
Tickets: $22-28
(323) 661-9827

Karen Black, perhaps best known for her Oscar-nominated portrayal of Jack Nicholson's dimwitted but devoted girlfriend in Five Easy Pieces (1970), boasts a long and impressive resume of acting roles. She has also written music and screenplays, and now tries her hand at playwriting. Incorporating pleasant songs by Grammy-nominated tunesmith Harriet Schock, Missouri Waltz is unfortunately a work with more ambition than payoff, an odd mix of genres that don't mesh. In director Angela Garcia Combs' premiere staging, the primary pleasures come from fleeting moments of poetic beauty and gentle humor from three skilled actresses (Black, Dana Peterson and Whitney Laux).

The story takes place in 1973 in a rural home along the Mississippi River, where a young unwed hippie woman, Zoe (Laux), returns to the family domicile to reclaim her roots and give birth to a child. Black and Peterson are Zoe's deceased aunts, Chrissie (Black) and Bea (Peterson), still inhabiting the house as ghosts. The machinations of Bea's smarmy ex-husband (Eric Pierpoint) to seize ownership of the home, aided by a shady real-estate agent (Weston Blakesley), comprise a predictable and feeble plot. By mixing elements of stale 1960s-era sitcoms (such as Bewitched), melodramatic contrivances and the barest hint of a book musical, the play lacks a palpable sense of purpose. Black looks great and has some fine moments in the early scenes, as do her two co-stars. The male actors offer competent support, but they can't transcend a meandering story that veers between touching and ludicrous. Production elements meet Blank Theatre's customary top-notch standards. —Les Spindle

Boy Gets Girl

Attic Theatre and Film Center
5429 W. Washington Blvd., L.A.
Friday-Saturday 8 p.m.
Through June 30
Tickets: $20
(323) 525-0600, ext. 2

Rebecca Gilman’s tense drama of yin-yang dating politics in urban America initially seems to be a formulaic woman-in-peril thriller, something you might catch on the Lifetime channel. Thankfully, the play has something more than simplistic thrills on its mind. Yet, director Cindy Marie Jenkins’ production is ironically more successful in capitalizing on the familiar yet absorbing story set-up than in illuminating the script’s profound consideration of the boundaries of aggressive courtship. When does macho bravado end and terrorism begin, and what role do social codes of conduct play in fostering this confusion?

When independent and sharp-witted

journalist Theresa (Kacey Camp) reluctantly meets seemingly nice guy Tony (Jon Bradford) for a blind date, she instantly sizes him up as a shallow bore and tries to forestall further involvement. Determined Tony refuses to accept the rejection, and his pursuit escalates into threats of violence and incessant phone calls. Theresa’s life becomes a living hell, and her supposed sympathetic co-workers make matters worse. Camp and Bradford deliver multi-layered performances, and William Knight is hilarious as an aging Russ Meyer-type sleaze peddler. Brett Aune, M. L. Berry and Therese McLaughlin lend able support. Tatiana Zaza’s overzealous performance as a bubble-headed office aide would be better suited to a sitcom. Jenkins allows the pace to become erratic in the second act, as the heavily plotted story and its associated themes lose focus. This is a far more resonant and thought-provoking play than this highly uneven production would suggest. —L.S.