Theatre in Review: Just in Time (Circle in the Square Theatre)

	Jonathan Groff. Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Here's a spring surprise: Just when the bio musical genre appears all but exhausted, we get the disarming story of Bobby Darin. I mean, Bobby Darin?

There's a kind of gambler's recklessness behind this project. Most successful bio musicals cash in on stars with hit-packed catalogs (The Four Seasons, Carole King, Neil Diamond). Attractions like The Cher Show and Summer: The Donna Summer Musical underperform because their scores are too niche or loaded with forgettable novelties. At first glance, this would seem to be the fate of Just in Time: Even for boomers approaching their sunset years, Darin is a semi-icon, an idiosyncratic talent caught between eras, whose hot streak lasted only a few years, enough for some classic cuts and a dubious film partnership with his wife, Sandra Dee. (In sex comedies with titles like That Funny Feeling and If a Man Answers, they were who you got when you couldn't get Rock and Doris.)

Nevertheless, playwrights Warren Leight and Isaac Oliver have come up with a clever, workable concept, director Alex Timbers and his design team have polished it to a high gloss, and, as Darin, Jonathan Groff -- a fine talent, but not necessarily the personification of ring-a-ding sophistication -- is giving one of the most sensational musical theatre performances I've ever seen.

Leight and Oliver's main insight is that, in his brief career, Darin sizzled in front of live audiences in a way that recordings and films don't fully capture. The singer's life featured enough bizarre twists for a B-movie triple feature, the details of which are fitted into a presentational nightclub format: As a boy, he overhears a doctor declare he is unlikely to make it past sixteen, thanks to a heart ravaged by rheumatic fever. Determined to beat the clock, he is a young man in a hurry, chasing a songwriting career, then launching a futile attempt at rock-and-roll stardom. In one especially amusing sequence, he slogs through a series of cheap knockoffs of Elvis, Vaughn Monroe, and Fats Domino hits, none of which do a thing for him. Nailing a bona fide chart-topper with the nonsensical, but racy, "Splish Splash," he upsets his bosses and handlers by insisting on an album of standards, led by his swingy take on Brecht and Weill's "Mack the Knife." Improbably, the bet pays off: He sets off on a perpetual tour, pausing only for pit stops in Hollywood, picking up an Oscar nomination for his efforts.

It's a grueling grind for anyone, let alone someone with a bum ticker, and much of Just in Time is about Darin's death-defying insistence on pushing himself to the limit. The first act focuses on the star's aborted love affair with Connie Francis, their marital plans done in by her furious, gun-toting father. The second act turns on his marriage to Dee, a love match wrecked by his workaholism and her alcoholism. There's also the bombshell about the profound lie that shaped his childhood: If you know, you know; if you don't, wait for it. It spices up the second act to no end. Leight and Oliver are clear-eyed about Darin's career decline (caused by changing tastes), his personal problems and money issues, and the political career that wasn't. The thing that keeps him going, that electric connection to the audience, ultimately kills him. But what a way to go...

With that melancholy thought never too far in the background, Just in Time celebrates the evanescence of live performance. "This can only happen in this room, right now, with you, and it'll never happen quite the same way again," Darin tells us. "It's already turning into vapor, a memory." From the moment he rises on an elevator behind the bandstand on Derek McLane's sleek, swanky, Deco-themed set, accompanied by a trio of silver-spangled dancers, Groff owns the stage like never before. An actor known for a certain studied sensitivity, he is brashly authoritative, launching into a medley of "Start of Something Big" and "Just in Time," and working the room like a longtime veteran of the nitery circuit. (In an evening filled with showstoppers, "Mack the Knife" brings the first act to a frenzied conclusion.) He doesn't shy away from Darin's less-attractive traits, especially his ravening ambition and a knack for cutting out loved ones who displease him. Groff has distinguished himself in shows ranging from Spring Awakening to Merrily We Roll Along, but here he is hooked up to his own personal electric current, and the effect is almost blinding.

Fortunately, his supporting cast is more than capable of holding its own. Gracie Lawrence has an authentic sob in her voice as Connie, delivering an ultra-smooth "Who's Sorry Now?" as she watches her romance with Darin unravel. Erika Henningsen has a rueful charm as Sandra, a manufactured movie star who has no idea how to act in real life. Joe Barbara is likable as Darin's brother-in-law, valet, and hatchet man. Lance Roberts is solid as Atlantic Records president Ahmet Ertegun, who can't control his rising star. Emily Bergl is touching as Darin's strangely needy, secret-bearing sister, and Caesar Samayoa is fine in several roles, most notably Darin's songwriting partner in crime, Don Kirshner. Adding a touch of fabulousness is Michele Pawk as Polly, his vaudevillian mother, muse, and probably the love of his life. (Making her first entrance in a fishtail gown, offering a smoky rendition of "La Mer," the number Darin will turn into his signature hit "Beyond the Sea," she looks around and says, "Great crowd. Not drunk yet." Now that's a mother.)

Timber's showman instincts are bolstered here by Shannon Lewis' choreography, which thrives even in the confines of Circle in the Square. She makes use of every available square inch, whether spoofing "Splish Splash" with a rolling bathtub unit or confidently building "Up A Lazy River," first with Polly, then Darin, adding performers in every few lines until the entire company is in on the fun. The music -- orchestrations by Andrew Resnick and Michael Thurber, arrangements by Resnick -- never stops swinging. This is the rare bio musical worthy of a cast album.

McLane's dream of a nightclub setting is so filled with LED tape and color-changing LED panels, courtesy of lighting designer Justin Townsend, that it serves as a glittering beacon in the night; Townsend also paces the musical numbers with unfailing skill. Catherine Zuber's costumes, aided by Tom Watson's hair and wig designs, bring back a lost era of sophisticated evening wear. Peter Hylenski's sound design gives everyone in the cast plenty of room to breathe vocally; he also creates an ideal balance of voices and instruments.

All things being equal, I'd still rather see the theatre generating new works instead of these potted biographies. The book, for all its cleverness, is little more than a fast trip through the facts of Darin's life. But so much talent has been invested in this project, and Groff's stardust is so potent that, just this once, it must be admitted that Just in Time is a smashing entertainment. --David Barbour