(USA, 134 min.)
Dir. Clint Eastwood, Writ. Marshall Brickman & Rick
Elice
Starring: John Lloyd Young, Vincent Piazza, Michael Lomeda,
Erich Bergen, Christopher Walken.
Jersey Boys marks
the first—and hopefully only—time I have left a movie thinking, “Gee, I wonder
what Adam Shankman could have done with that.” Yes, even Mr. Hairspray might have been a far better
fit for this Broadway adaptation than the great Clint Eastwood. Jersey Boys sure looks and feels like a
Clint Eastwood movie, though, for it’s sombre, serious, and dark, yet the
chocolate-malt-and-jukebox-vibe of the material might simply be better suited
to the bubbly candyfloss direction of filmmaker who better understands the
energy of the genre. Jersey Boys is
possibly the most inert and lifeless musical ever put to screen.
It’s disappointing to see the masterful Mr. Eastwood plop
out his weakest film as a director in a career that otherwise shows no sign of
sagging, especially since Eastwood’s impressive coup as a filmmakers includes
some beautiful credits composing the music of his own films. Jersey Boys isn’t quite on the same
scale as tinkering on the ivories for Million
Dollar Baby, though, and this stage-to-screen endeavour just doesn’t jive
with the Eastwood oeuvre. Jersey Boys features
one great number that fits the conventional bill for a big screen musical… and
it appears in the closing credits as if tacked on to honour its source. (I
haven’t seen the musical, so I’m saying this as a filmgoer who simply
approached Jersey Boys with the idea
that it’s a musical of the song and dance variety.) The awkward Jersey Boys Jersey never really looks or
sounds like a musical, and even by the closing number it feels as if it has no
idea what kind of film it wants to be.
Jersey Boys
presents the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons by taking the route of
the backstage musical and presenting the songs as isolated concert
performances. That’s all fine and dandy, since Eastwood seems more comfortable
dramatizing the group dynamics and family struggles of Frankie Valli (John
Lloyd Young) and his best friend Tommy DeVito (Vincent Piazza) than he does
with the awkwardly and statically staged songs. Jersey Boys tells the boys’ story in a GoodFellas style coming-of-age tale in which friends break the
fourth wall and speak directly to the audience while they play out their
tomfoolery rising to the top. The direct addresses to the camera, which weirdly
never come from Valli, work somewhat in the dramatic moments of the film, but
they fall flat in the midst of the film’s sporadic song numbers. Characters
such as the restless Nick (Michael Lomeda) turn and talk to the camera in the
midst of a chorus, and Jersey Boys
doesn’t seem to know what to do with the material. The GoodFellas likenesses aren’t done any favours by the frequent
references to Joe Pesci—“that Joe Pesci,” the characters say—who crossed paths
with the Jersey boys and eventually won an Oscar for playing a mobster named
Tommy DeVito in Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas.
(The tidbit makes for the most intriguing aspect of the film.) Maybe it’s
the stage play or maybe it’s the direction, but either way the mid-musical
confessions just don’t work.
Delivering a musical in such a plot-heavy format is a risky
move, too, when the film brings the stars of the Broadway stage production to
the screen. Young, Piazza, Lomeda, and Erich Bergen (as Bob) all have terrific
vocals, but they have varying degrees of screen presence. Bergen and Piazza
hold the camera with the strongest command while Lomeda is fairly forgettable
(although it’s a nice coincidence that Nick blurs into the background). Young,
on the other hand, lacks the dramatic chops required to convey a screen
performance, so Jersey Boys
ultimately falls flat because its leading man is a dull headliner. It’s a shame
that Jersey Boys favours the drama
and performs songs so infrequently, for the film fails to capitalize on the
talent at hand. Ditto Christopher Walken who is strong in a small (and nearly
thankless) supporting role as Gyp de Carlo, a neighbourhood mentor to Frankie
and Tommy, although his few substantial appearances, including the scene that
sees the band’s break-up, are dramatic highlights of the film.
Jersey Boys charts
a conventional series of greatest hits to map out the rise of Frankie Valli and
the Four Seasons, and the few songs that appear are the kind of poppy numbers
one hears at 1950s-themed diners playing from the jukebox at a reasonable
volume. It’s pretty square and less exciting than a vanilla shake. All the
crooning also makes for a pretty boring watch, since Eastwood’s signature style
doesn’t do much to bring the material to life, although this flaw in Jersey Boys might be a product of the
greater system of Hollywood genres.
Musicals since the days of Fred and Ginger are bright and
frisky, and they gained a whole new life once Technicolor entered the equation.
Musicals, as a razzle-dazzle affair, rely heavily on visual pizzazz to sell the
showmanship and the obvious escapism of the musical moments. Take the vibrant
colours of Singin’ in the Rain, or
even the ultra-stylish theatricality of Chicago,
and one sees how much tone and atmosphere can put audiences in the groove. Eastwood,
however, reteams with his frequent cinematographer Tom Stern and they bathe
Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons in the same moody low-key lighting that
defines an Eastwood film. The dark shadows feel spot-on for the gritty fight of
Maggie May in Million Dollar Baby or
for Laura Linney’s wrenching “Lady Macbeth scene” in Mystic River, but they put a damper on the Four Seasons. Jersey Boys looks like Funeral: The Musical! Sadly, it feels
like a death of sorts.
Rating: ★★ (out of ★★★★★)
Jersey Boys is
currently playing in wide release.
