Through August 24: “Jersey Boys” Closes The Muny’s 107th Season With Swagger and Falsetto
Not so much a jukebox as a time machine stocked with memory, falsetto and swagger.
The Four Seasons may have sung their way out of Jersey basements into American pop Olympus, but they never entirely shed the rough edges of their origins. As Bruce Springsteen croons in “Jersey Girl,” “I got no time for the corner boys, down on the street makin’ all that noise.” That lyric could serve as a sly epigraph for “Jersey Boys,” which charts the rise of Frankie Valli and company from neighborhood nobodies to platinum-selling legends.
Their story unfolds with a vitality that celebrates the triumphs and acknowledges the toll — the broken loyalties, the debts, the cost of always singing higher, louder, brighter. The word “jukebox” itself feels like an analogue relic, a glowy artifact humming faintly from another time, but this biography-by-way-of-jukebox musical emerges as a stylishly staged, vigorously sung slice of pop mythology. The hum still reaches us, improbably, across the years.
Maggie Burrows directs with a steady hand, guiding the story with a rhythmic drive that matches the score and honoring the show’s “four seasons, four narrators” conceit. William Carlos Angulo’s choreography sketches the era’s snap and strut while sidestepping parody, with two standout moments: “My Eyes Adored You,” staged to include a young couple in an endearing pas de deux that mirrors Valli’s reverie, and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” where silhouetted band members perform against cascading video projections reminiscent of glittering variety-show curtains.
“Jersey Boys” stands on the shoulders of its cast, and at The Muny the performers lift the show high and send it soaring. Pablo David Laucerica as Frankie Valli gives a performance this is as thrilling as it can be tender. His falsetto transcends impersonation and becomes the sound of ambition itself — improbable, fragile one moment and defiant the next. The illusion of Valli isn’t always exact, and that’s as it should be. This is theater, not a tribute-band routine, and Laucerica owns the character on his own terms. When “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” arrives, it lands as a declaration rather than as a nostalgic — Laucerica and the company pushing the song with conviction enough to carry across the amphitheater.
Ryan Vasquez as Tommy DeVito is the combustible counterpoint. His swagger has bite, his charm carries risk. Cory Jeacoma as Nick Massi grounds the quartet with understatement and dry humor. Andrew Poston as Bob Gaudio balances the group with steadiness and clarity. Together, the four embody the paradox at the heart of “Jersey Boys”: perfect harmonies and imperfect lives.
Supporting turns sharpen the story. Shea Coffman’s Bob Crewe sparkles with wit and John Leone lends weight as Gyp DeCarlo, equal parts patron and predator. This production succeeds because the performances transcend nostalgia and transform memory into immediacy, as present as the hush before applause.
Paul Byssainthe Jr. conducts a band that delivers the score with vigor and style. Packed with 34 songs (including reprises), the Four Seasons’ impressive catalog becomes a marvel of integration. Each number arrives as rediscovery as much as nostalgia, carrying the vitality of what it might have felt like to hear them for the first time — when the Billboard Top 100 was a cultural compass and hits like these shaped the soundscape of American life. The range — from street-corner harmonies to anthemic ballads — still resonates.
Video designs by Kylee Loera and Greg Emetaz make maximum use of The Muny’s technology — from “live” close-ups of the band singing to vintage and vintage-inspired television clips. Early in Act 1, a giant Department of Corrections medallion rolls across three banks of projections, impressive because it supports the action rather than upstages it. These effects remind us that the Four Seasons were forged in clubs as well as on the pop-culture altar of American television.
Krit Robinson’s set frames the action with scaffolding that shifts easily from Jersey street corner to television studio. Rob Denton’s lighting moves those frames between confessionals and concert halls. Leon Dobkowski’s costumes trace the group’s evolution with polish.
And true to form, The Muny doesn’t let the season close without one more flourish. No spoilers here, but suffice it to say the finale delivers a surprise in the spirit of this summer’s other headline-making moments (remember Lin-Manuel Miranda’s turn at “Bring It On”?). It’s a reminder that at The Muny, the story doesn’t always end where you expect — and that’s part of the pleasure.
What distinguishes “Jersey Boys” — and why it transcends the jukebox label — is its refusal to coast on nostalgia. This is more than a greatest-hits revue; it’s a portrait of loyalty, ambition and betrayal told in four-part harmony. Like all American myths, it’s about escape and reinvention: four kids from Jersey chasing a dream and learning that even superstardom can’t harmonize away the dissonance of human frailty.
And yet, the phrase “jukebox musical” lingers — a term that diminishes what can, at its best, be a rich hybrid of biography and ballad, history and harmony. If “Jersey Boys” is a jukebox, it’s one still plugged in, humming with the electricity of songs that shaped a generation — and still play on.
“Jersey Boys” runs at The Muny in Forest Park through August 24. See their website for more information.