The Heart of Rock and Roll Broadway Reviews

Ideal fodder, then, for a modestly scaled and warm-hearted jukebox show that might prove to be one of the sleeper hits of the season. That’s thanks to an inestimably witty book with plenty of hard laughs and a suite of winning lead performances under director Gordon Greenberg.

Rolled out modestly, little “Heart” is also a lot more fun and proudly frivolous than any of its sober-minded neighbors. It’s perhaps the first time in my life that I’ve been happy to see a confetti cannon at curtain call.

So, give a round of applause to Jonathan A. Abrams, who (from a story by producer Tyler Mitchell and himself) dreamed up a plot in which to lodge the Huey Lewis and the News songs so’s a talented gaggle of singers and dancers can give Great White Way life to them. For added stage heat, choreographer Lorin Latarro grabs every opportunity for her multi-talented troupe to maximize the excitement with inexhaustible energy.

“The Heart of Rock and Roll” is not going to be the subject of think pieces and graduate theses, but its easygoing good spirits are bolstered by solid craftsmanship, and it’d be silly to turn up our noses at that. “Have a good time,” Huey Lewis once sang, wisely quoting Curtis Mayfield. “’Cause it’s all right.”

Then again, I didn't attend The Heart of Rock and Roll for its politics and I'd wager most people aren't, either. Nor does the show want you to. Your willingness to overlook this and the show's many plot contrivances will likely be proportional to your interest in either or both of the crowd-pleasers named at the start of this review. But I must say, your level of fun likely won’t. I am neither an ‘80s kid nor a person with any outsized interest in Cott’s rugged good looks, but I had a good, old-fashioned great time for 2.5 hours. Director Gordon Greenberg’s production is eager to sweep you up in its bright lights, even brighter costumes, and heart-thumping sound. Why not let it? The Heart of Rock and Roll is still going to be beating around you regardless.

As with his recent Broadway success, “Gutenberg!,” director Gordon Greenberg takes his job seriously, keeping the show moving as a fleet pace. Better still, he also never makes the show too serious, ensuring that its tongue remains firmly planted in one cheek or another almost the whole time.

Strangely, these shortcomings become assets of a sort in “The Heart of Rock and Roll,” the new show now bringing the group’s repertoire to Broadway. Jukebox musicals, for all their contemptible elements, can be most irritating when they try too hard either to deify an artist or to find fresh wit and relevance in a popular repertoire. One of the reasons “Mamma Mia” became an enduring hit is that it steered clear of both these strategies, choosing instead to have giddy fun with what happens to be one of the most inviting catalogs in pop music.

Cott, who was impressive as the lead in “Bandstand,” sings the hell out of the songs. But his striking good looks, not to mention his well-displayed biceps and abs, makes him perhaps too much of a slick outsider to be thoroughly credible in Huey’s working-for-a-living world. Still, since the show keeps its ambitions in check with its sensibly-scaled production and low-stakes book, it doesn’t really matter that it thinks inside the box. After all, cardboard has its uses.

To distract from this baffling tale, director Gordon Greenberg’s high-energy production throws a ton of pure adrenaline at the audience. At times, it works. An exuberantly silly bubble-wrap based dance number is a delight, and Tucker’s terrifying a cappella group “The Undertones'' delivers an impressive rendition of “Give Me The Keys.” (Tucker cues up that number with the opener, “5…6…Sweater vest!”). When it truly pops off, Lorin Latarro’s lunatic choreography is actually some of the sharpest on Broadway this season.

Gordon Greenberg directs and Lorin Latarro choreographs, achieving some kind of immortality with all that bubble wrap. Around the edges of this production are a few inspired performances. Raymond J. Lee’s wacky rocker, Tamika Lawrence’s un-PC HR director and Billy Harrigan Tighe’s bleach-blond ukulele-playing male bimbo invariably deliver laughs despite the paper-thin material.

To its credit, The Heart of Rock and Roll tries to get out before the buzz wears off. The second act lags and then accelerates around the point where Bobby’s choice between rock and cardboard gets obvious. While Abrams delights in adding new complications to the book, he seems to get bored of its circumstances about three quarters of the way through, and the show slams into its denouement at 90 miles per hour. There are a few lines of tossed-off explanation, right before the big finale, about why various threats to our heroes’ well-being are no longer an issue. You can pursue your dreams and also settle down! You can avoid the risk of a hostile takeover if you are … pure of heart and have some investment money from a Swede! The heart of rock and roll is still beating … as long as you don’t think too hard about it.

So, ok, I won’t call “The Heart of Rock and Roll” poppy. If not poppy, it’s certainly predictable, a dose of 1980s nostalgia with a by-the-numbers plot that would not be out of place in a conventional 1950s musical comedy. But for what it is, the show has its moments. Cott gives another reliable central performance, surrounded by stand-out supporting players. Lorin Latarro’s choreography rocks, and hops, and sometimes completely flips (there are acrobatic dancers in the ensemble.) In between the catchy tunes, eye-rolling contrivance battles it out with cleverness; sometimes, clever wins.

The saving grace of The Heart of Rock and Roll—aside from Lewis and company’s appealing songs (though my personal favorite, “Heart and Soul,” is conspicuously missing!)–is the talent of its cast, which is chock-full of pros. Tamika Lawrence, as Bobby’s confidante, and the grievously underused Zoe Jensen, as Cassandra’s college bestie, provide big laughs; so does Mendoza as the sauna-obsessed, meatball-loving Swede. For some members of Generation X, what this show offers will be more than enough. Squeeze your memories into spandex and get ready to turn back the clock. Who needs a DeLorean?