"City Club" Uneven, But Not Unappetizing

Tweet this article !

                          Here's the thing. If a friend came in from out of town and said, "You know, I've never seen an Off-Broadway musical. I've seen lots of Broadway musicals, but never Off-Broadway. I think I'd like to see one for contrast, so what would you recommend?" your humble reporter would probably reply, "If you can't get tickets to Avenue Q, go see The City Club down in the Village at the Minetta Lane."

This is not to indicate that the show isn't worthwhile. It is, to a degree. But it's terribly uneven, although it has its moments. Centering around the behind-the-scenes goings-on in a big city jazz/blueserie in the 30s (although we're never really informed of what city it is; it might be New York, New Orleans, Chicago or some other port unknown), it's a clearly ambitious project that features a book by Glenn M. Stewart and a score both boffo and bluesy, written alternately by the team of James Compton, Tony DeMeur and Tim Brown.

Basically, what we've got here is a case of "not everything old is new again." Jazz-blues musicals along the same theme and from that era will always emerge to varied effect (a prime example is Central Avenue Breakdown, which premiered at the NYMF over the summer and was tepid), and almost certainly contain such requisite elements as gutsy music and heroin abuse. Right away, therefore, does this show take some baby steps backwards. What we have is the story of Chaz Davenport, who has opened The City Club in lamentable tribute to his late father, who was also a jazz baby and one of the city's front runners. He's up against a wall in more ways than one; entertainment reviewer Jake Olson is breathing down his neck, local mobsters Tough and Lieutenant are trying to weasel their way in for a cut of the profits, and there's his dysfunctional romance with the club's lead chanteuse Crystal LaBelle, whom he rescued from the wrong side of the tracks and transformed into a star of sorts. A newcomer named Madelaine Bondurant wanders onto the scene and quickly becomes Chaz's new love interest, which complicates everything when near the end of Act One we learn a certain truth about who and what she and her mission really are, and complicated further near the end of the second act in a twist no one could possibly see coming. Then there's Parker, the club's resident player on the ivories who turns out to be at least temporarily sprung from the slammer on a murder charge, bandleader and headliner Prince Royale, chorus girl Rose who is hopelessly addicted to the smack she seeks from bartender Doc, and additional showgirls Lily and Candy. And the Governor, who offers to grant the club a gambling license after being caught in a snapshot with a "chorus girl" named Frances. What it all adds up to is well over a hundred and twenty minutes of incest, Russian roulette, murder and some really good music and lyrics here and there. But it might be more enticing if it could become a feel-good story, which it can't. Mitchell Maxwell does a more-than-capable job with the direction, and choreographer Lorin Latarro gives outstanding work (this writer absolutely adored Latarro's choreography for the City Center Encores production of Fanny), especially with an adagio that takes place in the second act between Rose and Doc. And it's a capable score; best numbers include "Life on the Layaway Plan," "It Ain't Right," "Let 'Em Roll" and "Talk to the Devil." But it's all just a little too much too little too late, especially when the lyrics become painfully predictable.

Performance-wise, we're faced with an even more uneven situation. Ana Hoffman gives a completely superb performance as Madelaine. As does Peter Bradbury as Lieutenant and Kenny Brawner is exquisite as Parker. It is to the credit of both Robert J. Townsend (as Prince, Tough and Governor) and Patrick O'Neill (as Jake Olson, Doc and Frances) that they each manage to embody three separate roles with untouchable brilliance. And the belle of the entire proceedings is Autumn Guzzardi as Rose, a sensationally-talented triple threat who never gives less than her very best. Emily Tyra emerges as breathtaking as Candy, although Kelcy Griffin (who stepped in as Lily for the absent Kaitlin Mesh at this performance) was often notably nervous and may well have been under-rehearsed, especially in her performance as part of the ensemble on "Lollipop Man." Then, regrettably, we've got our two leads, namely Kristen Martin as Crystal and Andrew Pandaleon as Chaz. Both are infinitely sensational singers to the utmost but leave a tremendous amount to be desired by their wooden acting abilities.

What this all boils down to is that The City Club isn't to be dismissed. But will it go further? Time will tell.