A musical of peaks and Valli

‘Jersey Boys’ recalls ups, downs of Four Seasons

December 20, 2010|Don Aucoin, Globe Staff

Thanks to the televised antics of Snooki, the Situation, and the rest of those budding Rhodes Scholars on “Jersey Shore,’’ it’s been a rough year, image-wise, for the Garden State.

Let’s not forget, however, that New Jersey also gave the world Sinatra, Springsteen, “The Sopranos,’’ and — admittedly in a different weight class — Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

They were the inspiration for “Jersey Boys,’’ a likable musical biography that has returned to Boston for a six-week run at the Colonial Theatre. “Let’s face it, we put Jersey on the map,’’ boasts Tommy DeVito (Matt Bailey), one of the original Four Seasons, suggesting the out-of-control ego that will later lead to major complications for the vocal group.

“Jersey Boys’’ has a less contrived plot than most jukebox musicals because there is a real-life, up-and-down trajectory to trace. However, there are still some sluggish interludes when the show idles in neutral, stalling for time until the next song.

Ah, but when that next song arrives and Joseph Leo Bwarie grabs the mike. . . . Well, talk about high notes, in every sense of the phrase.

Bwarie’s performance as Frankie Valli (a role he also played last year when “Jersey Boys’’ came to Boston) goes beyond mere mimicry. The Emerson College grad doesn’t simply channel Valli; he inscribes the role with a breath-catching artistry of his own as he soars, without seeming effort, into the upper reaches of the human voice.

(Because of the demands of the part, it will be split between Bwarie, who will perform it six times a week, and John Michael Dias, a Rhode Island native and Boston Conservatory graduate, who will play the role twice a week.)

Bwarie fully deploys his remarkable pipes about midway through Act 1, and that is when “Jersey Boys’’ really comes alive. At that point, the Four Seasons consist of Frankie, Tommy, Nick Massi (Steve Gouveia), and Bob Gaudio (Quinn VanAntwerp). Attired in snazzy matching jackets, they launch into the three breakthrough 1960s hits that defined their sound: “Sherry,’’ “Big Girls Don’t Cry,’’ and “Walk Like a Man.’’ Even after all these years, those songs still gleam like the small gems of pop craftsmanship they are.

Ditto for the songs that course through Act 2 — “Let’s Hang On (To What We’ve Got),’’ “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,’’ “Working My Way Back to You’’ — as the group goes through personal and professional turmoil and Valli branches out into a solo career.

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