"Jersey Boys" and "Sweeney" refresh tired Broadway formulas

Don't expect much that's really new from Broadway's latest musical hits: a cheeky revival of Stephen Sondheim's macabre 1979 tuner "Sweeney Todd," and "Jersey Boys," a rollicking whirl through the 1960s saga of the chart-busting pop group the Four Seasons.

But both shows do tweak standard Broadway formulas in invigorating, unexpected ways. And that makes them bright spots in a lackluster fall season on the Great White Way.

Like the mainstream film and pop-music industries, the Broadway musical factory is suffering from a creeping case of genre-fatigue.

Producers are constantly recycling several formulas. There's the "jukebox musical," which raids the songbooks of baby-boomer rock icons. But torpid recent examples of that breed, like "Imagine" (songs by John Lennon) and "Good Vibrations" (surf oldies by the Beach Boys), make it neon-clear that all tribute tuners are not created equal.

Meanwhile, the retreading of beloved hit musicals from the 1950s, '60s and '70s continues apace. But at this rate the canon is in danger of being exhausted — for this epoch, anyway.

And one only needs to visit "The Color Purple" to be reminded how precarious another standard Broadway gambit is: trying to turn a contemporary hit movie (and/or novel) into a Broadway show of equal merit.

It may be awhile before the next case of truly fresh musical-theater goods like "Caroline, or Change" (an honorable 2003 Broadway failure) or "The Light in the Piazza" (a 2005 underdog hit) gets delivered on Broadway — likely, again, via the back door of nonprofit regional theaters like Seattle's Intiman Theatre (which hosted the world premiere of "Piazza").

So in the meantime, what are Broadway musical fans to do?

Well, praise be for the occasional tuner that refreshes the usual ploys.

"Jersey Boys"

"She-e-reee/Sherry bay-bee!

She-e-reee/Sherry bay-bee!"

With all due respect to you Garden State natives, who knew the saga of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons would turn Broadway on its ear?

Enough people, including the wily director Des McAnuff ("Big River," "The Who's Tommy") to shoot this hugely entertaining rave-up from the La Jolla Playhouse to hit status at Broadway's newly renamed August Wilson Theatre.

A main attraction of "Jersey Boys" is, in fact, that Valli (born Francis Castelluccio) and cohorts are not the likeliest subjects for theatrical homage.

The Seasons charted five major No. 1 pop hits in the 1960s (starting with "Sherry" in 1961), and their tightly harmonized sound spiked by Valli's killer falsetto still gets a workout on oldies radio stations.

But image-wise, in the age of Motown and British Invasion mop-tops, the group seemed like Brylcreemed throwbacks to the doo-wop era.

In part because their back story is more obscure than that of, say, the Beatles or Beach Boys, the band's ascent from a tough section of Newark to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has the makings of a vivacious tale.

And the show's book, by Marshall Brickman (co-screenwriter of Woody Allen's "Annie Hall" and "Manhattan") and Rick Elice peppers the typical rise-and-fall music-biz stuff, with sharp, "Sopranos"-style wisecracking and Italian-American, working-class grit.

The Four Seasons weren't mobsters, exactly. But group founders Nick Massi (J. Robert Spencer) and Tommy DeVito (Christian Hoff) are presented at the start as semi-smarmy, small-time hoods. And even Valli (John Lloyd Young), possessor of one of the sweetest falsettos in the rock of ages, was no cherub. Their youthful transgressions (and personal frictions) spice up a narrative that's smoothly divided between all four guys, including the Seasons' straightest arrow and resident hits composer, Bob Gaudio (Daniel Reichard).

Exuberant performances and McAnuff's briskly paced, onstage/backstage mounting (which owes much to Michael Bennett's "Dreamgirls") keep "Jersey Boys" as sharp as the Four Seasons' satin lapels.

And Lloyd's bang-up, star-making turn as Valli is a perfect merger of vocal mimicry and actorly charisma.

As for those Four Seasons hits, they're in great hands. And McAnuff is a genius at revving up a rolling bass line or infectious drumbeat until the crowd is practically begging for a chorus of "Rag Doll" or "Big Girls Don't Cry."

Yup, this is a jukebox musical. But a deluxe model that makes you want to get up and dance.

"Sweeney Todd"

Having just seen a full-blown, plushly orchestrated production at Seattle's 5th Avenue, I confess to some leeriness about catching Broadway's newest slant on this famed Stephen Sondheim-Hugh Wheeler musical.

Can a cast of 10 actor-instrumentalists do justice to the epic sweep of a work originally crafted for more than 50 singers and musicians?

Of course not. But like the hit revision of the Fosse musical "Chicago," this streamlined "Sweeney Todd" works on its own upstart terms.

British director-designer John Doyle has framed Sondheim's musical fable of a homicidal London barber, and underscored its grisly ironies, by setting it in a British mental hospital — where it is enacted by brooding patients wielding pails, straitjackets and cellos.

Better not to dwell too much on that contrived concept. No shrink in their right mind would propose Todd's bloody opus as recreational therapy for the psychotic.

As a bold theatrical trope the setting does, however, license some pitch-black humor and go-for-broke performances, starting with Patti LuPone's outré Mrs. Lovett.

LuPone's Mrs. L. is a pungent departure from the usual dotty dowdiness of Todd's eager accomplice. She sports a slippery English accent, a severe flapper hairdo and a jaded, drop-dead bawdiness. And whether tooting on her tuba or slurring through the lyrics of "The Worst Pies in London," LuPone's a deliciously quirky dish.

Michael Cerveris is less of a departure from earlier Todds. But his moody intensity is eerie and blistering. And his majestic bass voice makes a superb conduit for Sondheim's dirges.

Mark Jacoby as the evil Judge Turpin and Alexander Gemignani as his enforcer are also excellent. And it's fun watching the two relay as pianists, while dispatching the pared-down score.

Would I rather hear "Sweeney Todd" mounted with full string section? Sure. But Doyle's approach is a fine novelty, and proof that this is indeed a durable classic which can withstand any number of interpretations.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com