STAGE TUBE: 'SAMMY the Musical' at The Old Globe

When they announced the cast and I saw that Mr. Babatunde was playing the part, I was crazy about his being cast. But I figured I would wait and see how he handled the part. Just based on those few clips, I stick by my original thought. Maybe it is because I grew up seeing and listening to Sammy Davis. I know the show is just opening, but I am just basing my thoughts on those clips.

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Yeah, based on these clips, this is completely not working. Babatunde is an African-American man who can sing, dance and act, but any resemblance to Sammy Davis Jr. ends there. I've always felt Sammy was one of the greatest popular singers of all time, and Babatunde is merely serviceable.

For this to work, you need to start with someone who can do a decent impersonation of Sammy, and then work from there to add depth to the character. Babatunde is so little like Sammy, it's too much work to keep reminding yourself of who he's supposed to be.

I do think Pennywise we gave each other bruise marks from elbowing each other when that head walked on stage......

I have to agree about Troy and Adam......they, along with the Rosa character made the show for me.

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I will do my best to explain the highs and lows, but I'm afraid it's going to seem like there's very little this show has going for it. I hate to be negative, but I want to be honest and fair. I suppose I'm disappointed because in Sammy Davis Jr.'s life, there IS a story of depth and substance. Unfortunately, Leslie Bricusse fails miserably at telling it.

1. The book is plodding, meandering and totally off-putting. You do not feel sympathy, compassion or respect for Sammy Davis Jr. In fact, you don't even "like" him. He comes across as a womanizing, overly ambitious, selfish, shallow, drug-addicted opportunist. Bad move.

2. Obba Babatunde is, I believe, about 59 years old. He starts playing Sammy at age four. He's dancing between his dad and uncle as a member of the Will Mastin Trio, and he's narrating the story from the perspective of a 4-year-old. It doesn't work. (Surprise, surprise.) He sometimes gives us the Sammy we came to know as a caricature of the man, the one impersonators plied in Las Vegas and on SCTV to great success. But that's supposed to be amusing. The Sammy Davis Jr. in this show is not funny, EVER, even when he's telling a joke. Babatunde doesn't have to look or even act like the real Sammy, but he does have to create a portrait, an interpretation, of the man to give us some insight into what made him tick. Sadly, Babatunde doesn't appear to understand who Sammy Davis Jr. the entertainer OR the man really was.

3. Too many songs. The program lists 23, but a lot of it is reprised as transition or to "remind" you of an earlier "demon" of Sammy's that is still haunting him. Act I is nearly 90 minutes long (which is not a problem when you're enjoying yourself.)

4. Too much Sammy. Too many details. Too much exposition. Too much Sammy! Yes, I know the show is called "Sammy," but that doesn't mean he has to be in every scene. In fact, we learn less about him by always being on stage. These other people "appear" in his life, but we don't truly understand what influence they had on him, why they mattered to him, how the relationship evolved, why it was significant or what it's doing in the show!

5. Except for the songs we all know and love (e.g., The Joker, Gonna Build a Mountain, What Kind of Fool Am I), the score is pretty awful. The Rat Pack number is the one scene where the show really comes to life. But that's because of Troy Britton Johnson's and Adam James's portrayals of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, respectively. That's the only number where Dean Martin is featured. (He does appear again briefly, raising a tumbler of scotch to Sammy near the end of the show during the obligatory Felliniesque number where everyone from Sammy's past appears momentarily in a spotlight while he unburdens himself in song.)

You find yourself wishing Troy/Dean would return and you kind of wait for that to happen. Since it never really does, you feel a lack of fulfillment, a void, a longing. (Troy also plays a few "minor" characters--all of them MEAN! He's a very good actor, but come on, Troy Britton Johnson is gorgeous...he doesn't look a thing like Harry Cohn!!!)

Adam James lights up the stage in every scene he has as Sinatra, but his part could be so much better written. At least he comes across as someone you LIKE, but I'm not sure if that's because he's written to be a sort of savior for Sammy or because Adam plays the part so fetchingly. I mean, he gives Sinatra warmth, which the real Sinatra was not known for exuding! Adam's portrayal is quite endearing, and funny, and much better developed than the character this show is named for! (Again, that may just be because Adam James is so good at playing Sinatra...and I'm leaning towards that theory.)

6. Bricusse, who wrote not only the music and lyrics but the book as well, uses every formulaic cliché known to humankind to tell the story, yet you never really understand what the story is. There is no arc. No denouement. No nothin'! I don't mean to sound pompous, but I can honestly say that I wrote plays in high school that were better conceived, more gripping and much funnier. (And I never won an award for any of them, let alone two Oscars and a Tony like Mr. Bricusse.)

7. The women in the show are stunning and talented, but they are forced to behave in ways that are embarrassing to an actor. It's not because women in the 50's, 60's and 70's were objectified and disrespected (which they were); it's because Mr. Bricusse is incapable of creating characters with more than one dimension...and you're lucky if they have that. The only woman who offers any depth at all is Anne Duquesnay as Sammy's grandmother, but, like Adam James, it may be more because of what this seasoned actress brings to the role than what the role, as written, has to offer. Hers is, perhaps, the best written part of the lot, but even she is basically the same from beginning to end.

8. The costumes are gorgeous, but the wigs are terrible. (Did they buy an entire lot of Eva Gabor wigs from eBay? )

9. I wasn't going to mention this, but I can't help myself. There is one scene that is so totally ludicrous, it's jaw-dropping. I found myself in such a surreal state of disbelief that I completely lost my composure and came very close to excusing myself so that I didn't ruin anyone else's experience or embarrass the actors. Let me put it this way: I laughed so hard, I had serious "mascara scars" below both eyes.

Okay, here goes: Remember Sammy's huge hit in 1972, "The Candyman"? (Of course you do. Who could ever forget THAT song?) Well, it is performed here like a a Martha Graham-inspired LSD trip at a funeral. Sammy and Altovise are in matching orange jumpsuits and identical Afros. Everyone else on stage is snorting cocaine, smoking pot and flailing around the stage in purplish-pink chiffon gowns or suede vests and denim bell-bottoms. (Have I mentioned the bad wigs?)

Their rendition of "The Candyman" sounds like a dissonant dirge that seems to be building to a crescendo. You know something is about to happen, but what? The stage grows dark and you just know an earth-shattering event is about to take place. My guess was that his grandmother would appear in his hallucinated state like an outsized Medea and catapult Sammy into sobriety with the news that she has died. Being that the show is so cliché-ridden, this seems a likely prospect. But I will give Mr. Bricusse some credit here, but only because what appeared on stage was completely unexpected (the only element in the entire show that is.)

When the lights come up, there is a giant, golden head just like the one in WICKED. It's the same size and everything. Except that it's Richard Nixon's head. Sammy stumbles in his stupor to the giant gold Nixon head, raises his right hand into a "peace sign" and then has his photograph taken. I've seen the actual photograph from the 70's. I understand its significance, but why Mr. Brisusse decided that this was a WICKED-worthy moment I will never understand. The giant gold Nixon head then goes away and is never mentioned again. (Or perhaps it was...I was in a laugh coma for the next ten minutes, so I don't really know.)

I know I'm forgetting some things, but I don't want to be only negative, so I'm going to stop there.

I blame it all on Leslie Bricusse. He's completely out of touch, in my opinion. It's hard to believe that he actually KNEW Sammy...unless he has so little regard for the man that he wants the world to perceive Sammy Davis Jr. as a pathetic loser of mediocre talent. Then again, even if that were Bricusse's goal, he could achieve it more skillfully...if he had any idea how to tell a story in the first place.

I confess that when I heard that Leslie Bricusse was doing this show, I was surprised because I did not realize he was still alive.

You can write the next sentence yourself.

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Updated On: 10/3/09 at 01:30 AM

Finishing off the toffee made writing my critique bearable!

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Wow Miss Pennywise, thanks for that excellent review. I've thought before that, based on more recent evidence, it's clear who's really responsible for all those great "Newley-Bricusse" songs. (Well, aside from Ian Fraser, that is...)

It's no FWC!

And I take your "Laugh Coma" and raise you a "LOLacaust".

P

I am STILL kicking myself for not staying in CA for a day on my way to Hawai'i... what I would have given to have witnessed the outrageouscontagious-ness first hand!

I'm red-day for change!

So, I assume all the contracts have been signed and a theatre lined up in NY for FWC, no?



P

Funny how this article is titled, "Can't Help Lovin' That Man," yet he spells Sammy's name wrong!

San Diego Arts
"Sammy" at the Old Globe Theatre
Can't Help Lovin' That Man
By Welton Jones
Sat, Oct 3rd, 2009

As the abundance of adoration for Sammy Davis Jr. continues to swell in Leslie Bricusse’s massive tribute musical now at the Old Globe, there comes the moment when everybody just gives up and calls him the greatest entertainer in history.

It’s hard to evaluate such a claim, of course. But Davis certainly was one of a kind.
The old golf-handicap gag about him being a tiny one-eyed black Jew doesn’t even cover the whole subject. Davis was painfully wiry, not at all handsome and tiresomely pushy.

But he did things that astounded audiences. He didn’t so much dominate his material as obliterate it, making the content trivial compared to the form.

Davis was only 64 when he died of cancer in 1990, but he was a veteran of 60 years in the show business, thanks to a vaudeville debut at 4 with his father and his Uncle Will Mastin. It was the early appearances with the Will Mastin Trio on tiny black and white television screens that launched Davis on a superstar career that climaxed in his uber-hip Las Vegas reign with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin as “the Rat Pack.”

Davis danced a lot and sang in a surprisingly supple and resonant baritone but it was his sheer animal presence that blasted through all those handicaps into legend.
Bricusse flat-out worships the guy. He’s written book, music and lyrics for this show, called inevitably “Sammy,” and borrowed seven additional songs that he wrote with his old partner, Anthony Newley.

That’s 23 different numbers, some with reprises. And that, plus all the usual biographical arc, makes for a long three hours.

The songs, in busy, brass-and-percussion arrangements by conductor Ian Fraser, are heavy, either seeped in period swagger and rutting bathos or soaked in cloying angst.

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The handsome female chorus spends over half the show in prototypical chorine outfits, strutting and squealing in the presence of stud potency. The mythology of excess dissipation is tired and a bit musty now but Bricusse doesn’t seem to notice.
A big, bold show like this needs some conflict but all Bricusse can find are a couple of old stalwarts, substance abuse and racial bigotry.

The booze and the pills make for some production numbers while the prejudice stuff is limited to a couple of awkward, depressing dialogue scenes. Back in the day, Davis seemed to soar untouched above such things. Probably not.

It’s unlikely that a better choice for the title role than Obba Babatunde’ could be found. (I’ve loved his name since “Dreamgirls” in 1982.)

Both his singing and his dancing are quite adequate; he’s captured the star’s buoyant charm and irresistible drive, and he even contrives to look like Davis. The part should be forever his.

Not so Adam James, who has neither the pipes nor the look of Frank Sinatra, though he does have the breezy self-satisfaction down pat. Troy Britton Johnson is likewise as Dean Martin, with lots less to do. But Perry Ojeda is a weak whiff as Eddie Cantor, assuming anybody remembers.

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Ted Louis Levy as Sammy Davis Sr. and Lance Roberts as Will Mastin are genial and useful. Ann Duquesnay plays the big mama role with dignity and an astounding if erratic voice.

None of the other ladies in Davis’ life – Kim Novak, May Britt, Lola Falana, etc. – are played with much accuracy or impact but the nine ladies of the ensemble are the true spine of the show.

In a show essentially devoid of subtlety, choreographer Keith Young finds some surprising quiet and tender moments, such as a balletic duo for Babatunde’ and Mary Ann Hermansen as Kim Novak. Otherwise the dances are cheerful, casual and, well, organic. To the period. The periodS.

Director Keith Glover, on the other hand, just struggles to keep some sense of time and place alive as the numbers troupe past. Given Alexander Dodge’s set design – various corners in the Land of Glitz – and Chris Lee brooding design of light puddles, that’s probably the best plan for a stage director.

Which brings us back to Leslie Bricusse. He’s nothing if not earnest and sincere. But his dialogue – “Slowing down is one show business trick I’ve never learned.” – sounds like notes for further pondering and his lyrics – “Sammy huggin’ Nixon, that’ll take some fixin’!” – often seem right out of the rhyming dictionary.

Ultimately, though, he’s certainly done his duty for Sammy Davis Jr. Nobody is likely to do more.

Welton Jones Critiques "Sammy"

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Tell it, Children!

P