Florida Studio Theatre's 'Jersey Boys' moves from streetlights to spotlights

Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice’s “Jersey Boys” chronicles the roller-coaster ride of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Their switchback career had plenty of ups and downs, twists and turns, and a few brushes with the mob. While their songs are short and sweet, their story is long and messy. Here’s a short version:

In the rosy dawn of the 1960s, Frankie Valli and three male vocalists from greater Newark put a New Jersey twist on doo-wop. The quartet rehearsed under streetlamps and went through a long list of band names — The Variatones, The Four Lovers and The Romans, to name a few. Thanks to a sign from above, they ultimately settled on “The Four Seasons.” (It was a bowling alley sign.) 

Valli’s falsetto and the quartet’s tight harmonies would make for great AM radio. But it took a few hard years before local DJs finally gave their songs airplay. After that, the band climbed the national charts with hits like “Sherry,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and “Walk Like a Man.” 

This musical frames their success in the Darwinian context of escape from New Jersey. As one singer put it, “There were three ways out of the neighborhood: You join the Army and maybe get killed; you get mobbed up, maybe get killed that way — or you get famous. For us it was two out of three.”

While this musical’s songs are nostalgic ear candy, its story is gritty and realistic. Director/choreographer Ben Liebert unfolds that story like a series of character-driven vignettes on “The Sopranos.” 

The characters don’t have it easy. The music business is tough, but Valli and the rest are artists, not businessmen. Although they’re not indifferent to the bottom line, music is what drives them. But money makes their music play and they know it. (If record sales get them out of New Jersey, even better.) 

Liebert deftly communicates their scrappy struggle. He also captures the Four Seasons’ choreography. (Based on a few YouTube clips, the four actors on stage move exactly like the originals.) In speech, song and dance, they’re all seasoned performers.

Tommy DeVito (Corey Greenan) is the volatile mastermind behind the band. He’s a charismatic bad boy— charming, impulsive and reckless. That said, he’s utterly devoted to the quartet. When the Four Seasons struggles through the lean years, he goes to a loan shark to keep the band together. 

Nick Massi (Andrew Mauney) is the Ringo of the group — the odd man out. He’s a brooding, insanely talented musical arranger and vocal coach. Mauney plays him as a poker-faced perfectionist who just wants to get the harmonies right. He puts his ego on the side — and often gets sidelined by the flashy egos of Frankie and Tommy. 

Image courtesy of Sorcha Augustine

Bob Gaudio (Landon Zwick) is introspective and philosophical. He’s a musical prodigy who got his first hit at age 15 — the cheeky “Short Shorts." At age 18, he quotes T.S. Elliot and Jean-Jacques Rousseau in casual conversation. Zwick’s characterization is calmly professional. His centered personality is in stark contrast to his volatile bandmates. 

Matt Beary’s portrayal of Frankie Valli distills the evolution of a shy, ambitious teenager into a resilient, world-class performer. Valli’s a standup guy — and utterly loyal to his bandmates. Tommy’s in debt to the mob for $150,000? Valli shoulders the debts. Bob wants to exit the spotlight and focus on songwriting? Valli honors his request. 

The quest for stardom takes its toll

Beary also evokes the steep personal cost of fame. The scene where he finds out about his daughter’s overdose death is heartbreaking. Aside from the quartet, the supporting cast portrays a range of colorful characters. Standouts include the band’s lonely lovers, several heavy-hitting mobsters, a music industry puppet master and even actor Joe Pesci.

Nathaniel Beliveau's music direction never skips a beat. The same applies to his piano playing. In this show, he’s got a ton of music to direct.

“Jersey Boys” features 32 songs, mainly hits by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Most are rehearsed, recorded or performed in the real world of the musical. If you’re sitting in the audience, it feels like an intimate rock concert. 

It’s up close and personal, not stadium rock or Las Vegas. Four Seasons fans on all sides loved it — and were bobbing heads and snapping fingers to the left and right. The show serves up a heaping helping of boomer nostalgia. But there’s more than fan service on the plate.

In this outside-the-jukebox musical, the songs serve the story, not the other way around. Brickman (a veteran Woody Allen screenwriter) and Elice deliver a solid script, with snappy, funny, believable dialogue. Their tough-minded tale includes prison time, loan sharks, breaking-and-entering, a death in the family and rock stars’ neglected families. But there’s a happy ending!

Isabel A. and Moriah Curley-Clay’s set is a two-tier affair that transforms to nightclubs, studios and alleys as the scene requires. It’s sprinkled with neon signs and backed by a Mondrian-like grid. It’s a perfect fit for 1960s art direction — and ideal for Thom Korp’s rear projections. Kathleen Geldard’s snazzy costumes are the height of fashion for pre-Beatlemania rock stars.

“Jersey Boys” doesn’t just showcase the Four Seasons' music — it humanizes the men who created it. I expected a formulaic,greatest hits musical. What I got was a character-driven journey into fame, sacrifice and what it means to hold onto your roots while chasing the spotlight. Once the quartet finally caught it, they must’ve felt like the dog who’d caught the car. 

Was it worth the chase? To quote Frankie Valli:

“It was all great. But four guys under a streetlamp, when it was all still ahead of us ... the first time we made that sound — our sound — when everything dropped away and all there was, was the music — that was the best.”