As I took my seat at the historic and majestic SHN Curran Theatre, the accented vowels cascading from the mouths of the audience members around me said one thing: I was officially leaving San Francisco and spending my evening in Essex County. Like a Bruce Springsteen or Bon Jovi concert, Jersey Boys had brought out New Jersey’s Bay Area brethren in all their glory. This definitely wasn't going to be the typical show audience. But aside from the Jersey crowd, I was surprised to see such a good mix of people – hip, young and old(er) folks – who you might not expect to be into musical theater. Here are the highlights from my night seeing the Broadway smash, which is back in San Francisco for the second time.
Jersey Boys tells the story of the Four Seasons (Frankie Valli, Tommy DeVito, Bob Gaudio, and Nick Massi), a musical group as tied to the state’s identity as Camaros and guys named Big Vinnie. The quartet hit the big time in the ’50s and ’60s in a story as old as show business itself: boys want to make it big in music; boys struggle; boys succeed; boys get in debt to organized crime…and at that point it becomes more of a Scorsese type of story, but you get the idea. If the group’s name doesn’t ring a bell right away, their songs will. “Sherry,” “Walk Like a Man,” “Beggin’,” “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” and “Big Girls Don’t Cry” have all entered the lexicon as classics. For those of us who grew up in the nouveau boy-band era of the late ’90s, the Four Seasons and falsetto-voiced Frankie were the originals, except for the mob part and the man-sized libidos. There really seems to be more sex onstage in Jersey Boys than there is in the average musical comedy, which was a nice reprieve after all the musical numbers.
Going to see a musical with an audience liberally peppered with Jerseyites is an experience I want everyone to have at least once before dying. My understanding is that somewhere in the state’s constitution, there’s a clause saying that whenever former citizens are in a place where a touring production comes, they are required to attend. What Mamma Mia! is to gay men, Jersey Boys is to people from the Garden State. It’s the greatest cultural-immersion experience available. There was such a high level of enthusiasm for the material that you couldn’t help but get swept away in it. You assimilated at times into a mass of very vocal enjoyment. There were occasional levels of verbal encouragement from the audience that bordered on a sporting event, but it only enhanced the authenticity. When Frankie first hits those high notes, it’s twice as exciting if the person sitting next to you hits them as well. I’m sure you can imagine what the reaction was when Bob lost his virginity in act one. For every regional in-joke, there was an equal regional appreciation that became infectious (in a good way). These people came to have a good time, and it was nice of them to let the non-Jerseyites join them.
Aside from getting carried off in the wave of peacocking Jersey pride, I also left the show with a strong urge to rekindle any long-lost bromances I’d let wither prematurely. Jersey Boys does for masculine friendships what every third film marketed at women does for female friendships. Imagine your favorite episode of Entourage, BUT THEY SING TOO! Each of the Jersey Boys had their Entourage equivalent— Frankie, the star, is clearly Vince; gambler Tommy is Drama; Bob and E are both the practical ones; and Nick is pretty much Entourage’s Turtle. Isn’t it time dudes have a show they can go see together? Now the guys have a musical in which they can ask, “Could I stand by my friend if it meant possibly ending up buried in an oil drum under Giants Stadium?” A friend from Patterson put it nicely: “There are only two times my brother and I have ever cried in front of each other. Once was when we saw Springsteen walking into a hotel lobby. The other time was when we saw Jersey Boys.”
But the show isn't just for dudes. There were plenty of women at the show, as well. It really is a show for everyone, even those who might not normally gravitate to sitting through a play in which people break out in song. For those of you who might not be so inclined, let me put your minds at ease: it’s not that kind of musical. Most of the songs occur naturally as part of the group’s performances in nightclubs, at concerts, and in television appearances, so there’s never that moment when people stop what they’re doing and just break into choreography (if that sort of thing unnerves you). The music is the story. In the time between Elvis and the Beatles, the Four Seasons were changing the way Americans listened to music, with their distinctly layered sound. A recording doesn’t do justice to experiencing the Four Seasons’ harmonies: you have to do it live. The cast I saw on opening night sold the songs every bit as authentically as the real Four Seasons, but they were mere feet away (and still very much alive!). Experiencing live music and theater is one of the key things that distinguish us from the animals, so you should get out and do it as often as possible. Go see Jersey Boys and get the full experience.
Written by Tony Bravo.
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