Movie Review: Jersey Boys

2 stars out of 5

I felt almost legally obliged to see a movie called Jersey Boys. And as it began, I thought, “This is for me.” It’s 1951 in Belleville, New Jersey. Hey, Belleville is right up the street from me! And there’s Lucky Luciano from Boardwalk Empire! Now Christopher Walken is getting a haircut from Bobby Bacala! Throw in some of our beloved good-time oldies, and this is going to be a fun Jersey time at the movies.

Except, here’s the problem. You see, I never felt obliged to see the Broadway musical Jersey Boys. Several people told me they enjoyed it but it just didn’t seem like my sort of thing. Musicals can be… corny. You know what I’m talking about: “Hey there, mister! Now you’re walking, don’t you think you can? Left foot right foot, you can do it, walkin’ like a man!” But movies—I like movies. You can strip out all that weird “people randomly breaking into song” stuff and just leave behind, in this case, the compelling true story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. And Clint Eastwood was directing. OK, his directorial track record has had its ups and downs, but the guy loves music, and he was alive through the era—this could actually be a good fit.

But maybe I should’ve read up on the movie. Because the guys who wrote the musical—they also wrote the screenplay. And they didn’t see any reason whatsoever to tamper with their award-winning formula. If it ain’t broke, right? So if you are expecting any subtlety at all—fuhgeddaboudit!! For starters, Frankie and his buddies are mid-century Italian-Americans. Ay! Oh! Stugots! Etcetera etcetera. As Tommy, Vincent Piazza’s over-the-top accent may work in Boardwalk Empire in limited doses, but it gets tiresome quickly here.

John Lloyd Young, reprising his Tony-winning role as Frankie Valli, does a nice job. Yes, at age 38 he has to start the film playing a 16-year-old, but it works. There’s a sadness to him and a vulnerability that fits the character. Too bad the script is so Broadway-phony. Set-up, punchline, set-up, punchline. Tommy to judge: “Frankie’s a better singer every day!” Judge: “Then just wait till you get out of jail—six months!” Badump-bump. Frankie’s new girlfriend: “You got a nickel?” Frankie: “Yeah?” Girlfriend: “Well call your mutha, you’re gonna be home late!” Oh! Stugots! That’s a spicy meatball! Songwriter Bob Gaudio, watching a movie: “She’s going to cry.” Record producer Bob Crewe (who is gay in a conservative era! what fun!): “No, big girls don’t cry.” Gaudio’s eyes light up; I think I gots an idea for a song! Uggh.

And it goes on like that. And on. And on. Hey, it’s this character’s turn to sing! And now this character. “And that guy… was Joe Pesci.” Eastwood annoyingly decides to use extremely muted colors throughout because, I don’t know, life was nearly black-and-white in the olden days. And he uses a rotating narrator thing (is that in the show also?) that really doesn’t work. Then they turn on a TV and there’s young Clint! It’s an inside joke!

For a while the movie is corny but watchable, a guilty pleasure, but it draaaaaaags, through the sixties, into the seventies…. “things are bad, my family is in turmoil, if only we had a hit song… ay, oh, it’s a hit!” And it’s exhausting. Valli and Gaudio produced the movie so these two are portrayed very, very positively. Music history, white-washed, with a big dumb singing-and-dancing finale to boot.

Didn’t everybody who wanted to see this musical already see it? Wasn’t there a road company? “You’re not too good, to be true, can’t wait to take my eyes off of you….”