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Ah, the music of the mid-to-late 1980s. Now that was my era. The Roches, The Dead Milkmen, Loudon Wainwright III. Lining up for hours to catch Michelle Shocked at The Bottom Line. Elegant evenings of Mel Torme at Michael's Pub and Jack Jones at The Supper Club. Man, I loved that 80s music.
I enjoyed quite a lot of Rock of Ages; even though the songs don't carry the same nostalgic appeal for me as it does for its target audience. (Though I will admit a quick mention of Reunite on ice did bring back memories.) Sure, it would have been better off as a ninety-minute intermissionless show, as the production really starts losing steam early in Act II (Hint: When an author suddenly starts going Pirandello in the second half it usually means he's run out of ideas.), but much of it is good, stupid, noisy fun that doesn't take itself as anything more than good, stupid, noisy fun.
Mitchell Jarvis, whose entire Playbill bio is a personal ad, nicely establishes a self-mocking tone as the mullet-topped narrator who takes us back to, "a sexier time; the Reagan era!" We're in Los Angeles - a city that, as I'm to understand it, was built on rock and roll - in an old dump of a bar that's regarded as a music landmark for being the launching pad for the world-famous rocker, Stacee Jaxx (a very funny James Carpinello as a well-chiseled, bleached-blonde bundle of self-absorbed testosterone) and his band, Arsenal. The intentionally thin love story matches a young songwriting janitor with dreams of rock stardom (a likeable Constantine Maroulis) with a new-in-town wannabe actress (Amy Spanger doing her usual bang-up job of belting and dancing). Their romance hits the skids when Maroulis uses the f-word (friends) on their first date.
The subplot has the severely underutilized Paul Schoeffler barking out lines as a German real estate developer who wants to pave paradise and put up a parking lot. (Oops! Wrong decade. I mean he wants to tear down the club and build a mall or something.) Wesley Taylor plays his son, a character seemingly inspired by Legally Blonde's musical question, "Is he gay or just European."
I'm assuming that Kristin Hanggi's direction and Kelly Devine's choreography both contain 80s-inspired visuals that reference iconic moments that go beyond my general frame of reference, but the best I can tell you that it's all rather peppy and fun, as are Gregory Gale's trashy costumes, Beowulf Boritt's grimy dive bar set and Jason Lyons' concert-inspired lighting.
Rock of Ages ain't exactly my kinda show, but I had some fun. It's spirited, well-intentioned rocker fluff. And if that's your kinda show, you'll probably have a blast.
Photo by Joan Marcus: Amy Spanger and Constantine Maroulis
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