The 16-year-old me would shudder in disbelief if told I'd attend a musical that celebrates the power ballads of the '80s and feathery hair bands. But there I was getting my butt rocked by Journey and Foreigner songs during the Broadway touring production of Rock of Ages at Ruth Eckerd Hall.
The scene depicted in the musical represented everything I hated about mainstream music in the '80s. My friends and I called the hair-band enthusiasts represented in the musical "rock pigs" and our routine was very different. Ours involved underage and/or gay dance clubs, trenchcoats, asymmetrical hairdos, out-of-the-way record shops, skateboarders, thrift stores, awkward androgyny, clove cigarettes and imports by Siouxsie and the Banshees.
I'm not sure what the Broadway musical of my youth would be like — but I have a pretty good idea — and I can vividly imagine a revue led by a Morrissey wannabe self-flagellating with flowers. (Don't even think of copying this idea. I own the rights, buster.)
To my surprise, Rock of Ages — though a world apart from my equally absurd, cherished subculture — was a helluva entertaining couple of hours. I enjoyed, for the most part, the singing and tight spot-on live rock-band performances of tunes I've grown to appreciate over time.
The sweeping guitars, heartfelt lyrics and the over-the-top majesty of songs by Bon Jovi, Survivor and Poison have made me understand why people get so swept away by it all.
(Though I still would rather hear these tunes sung by friends at the Corner Club karaoke night than treated with any reverence.)
The script was thin but chock full of funny meta-references to musical theater conventions and staples of the time period. You probably know the plot — aspiring rock musicians and actresses move to L.A. to make their dreams come true but wind up in dodgy jobs on the strip. Instead of fame, they find love. Yadda yadda.
Predictability aside, last night's top-notch production had the hall booming with cool light shows and boisterous numbers occupying a clever L.A. Strip-bar set.
The ushers even handed out imitation LED lighters that sported the play's logo. They were "lit" during the ballads, adding cheese-tacular awe to the evening — and they provided a cute li'l souvenir.
The jokes are often hilarious — if sometimes on the corny side — and the singing powerful. The Glee-style/musical theater over-enunciations and animated facial experiences lend perfectly to that musical genre. If you like the campy humor of Glee, the play does feel like a 2-1/2-hour episode of the show.
American Idol finalist Constantine Maroulis (photos by Tracy May) stars as protagonist Drew and brandishes a boundless voice and charmingly modest demeanor. Rebecca Faulkenberry plays an endearingly spunky love interest in Sherrie, and comic-relief guy, Patrick Lewallen's Lonny, gets ample laughs with his asides and ridiculous T-shirts.
Bar owner Dennis Dupree, played by Nick Cordero, recalls a cooler Nuge with a raspy baritone and scarily tall stature. And strip bar owner Teresa Stanley adds booming soul to Quarterflash's "Harden My Heart." The backup dancers and singers are all very sexy and talented in their tacky getups.
The crowd at last night's show — a mixture of ages, but mostly white (of course) — gave a standing ovation at the end of the first act— a rousing rendition of "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake — and during the rafter-shaking finale of "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey.
References to the '80s fads were abundantly entertaining. There was an ambiguously straight German in acid wash, the front half of a Yugo (!) and wine coolers.
Side note: No Def Leppard songs were represented, though the play is named after a classic tune by the band. David Coverdale of Whitesnake narrates a funny intro to the show and warns audiences not to reference Pyromania in the event of a fire because the production did not get the rights to Def Leppard's album.
In any event, thanks, Ruth Eckerd Hall, for bringing us a fun and nostalgic Broadway spectacular, but Ruthie, you need to do something about those intermission rules — locking paying adults in and not allowing them to step outside and re-enter. What — are you afraid they're going to go smoke a bong behind the bushes?
The result of this setup is an annoying and potentially injurious stampede to a sequestered break area. I don't know why these rules are in place — if you had complaints from your geriatric condo neighbors — regardless — this is no way to treat your paying adult customers. Broadway ain't cheap.
Rock of Ages is no $5 standing-room-only show at the Rock-It Club.
This article appears in Jan 13-19, 2011.