REVIEW: Jersey Boys

Courtesy of Warner Bros.

I’m not exactly the target demo for Jersey Boys, the new film from director Clint Eastwood, but sometimes it’s important to step out of your comfort zone. Before walking into the theater, I knew it was based on the wildly popular Tony-award winning musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons (in the vein of similar productions like Mamma Mia! and Rock of Ages), but that’s about it. Still, I went in with an open mind despite the fact that I couldn’t have named more than three of the group’s songs if you put a gun to my head.

On the plus side, it turns out I actually know way more of their hits than I thought. That’s a blessing since the great music and some solid casting choices are the only elements of the film I can recommend wholeheartedly. Everything else is a big misfire, so your decision to see it hinges on how you feel about spending $10 to experience a bizarre, oddly fascinating failure. If that sounds like your idea of a good time, this flick is Christmas and your birthday rolled into one. I constantly muttered “I can’t believe this is actually a movie” under my breath for 135 minutes.

Jersey Boys opens in the early 1950s, with young Frankie Castelluccio (John Lloyd Young, reprising his stage role) trying to break into the music business while working in a barber shop. Tommy DeVito (Vincent Piazza), a local hoodlum with a decent band, recognizes the kid’s talent and takes him under his wing.

After playing a few go-nowhere gigs – and after Frankie changes his last name – their friend Joe Pesci (yep, that Joe Pesci; he’s played here by Joseph Russo) introduces them, along with bassist Nick Massi (Michael Lomenda), to talented songwriter Bob Gaudio (Erich Bergen). A magical bond is created, albeit one that’s quickly frayed by jealousy and short tempers.

Still, the relationship leads to crazy success over the years with hits like “Sherry,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and “Walk Like a Man.” But the movie’s second half quickly devolves into a big-budget episode of VH1’s Behind the Music. The production design might be classier, but the thematic elements are the same. Band rises, band falls, band looks back on its past with a mixture of wistfulness and regret. You’ve seen it a million times.

What you may not have seen is the jarring technique screenwriters Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice use to narrate the story. Each lead character narrates a portion of the film, letting viewers know crucial bits of exposition along the way. But instead of using traditional voiceover, the movie breaks the fourth wall by having each actor look directly into the camera to talk to the audience while the scene is taking place.

The result is characters discussing their history in the past tense while living in their version of the present. It made me think of Zack Morris on Saved by the Bell (not an exact comparison, but still one the filmmakers probably aren’t looking for). It’s a bold choice, one that’s admittedly intriguing at first, but it becomes tedious really fast.

Another drawback is the dearth of performances in this supposed musical. There are giant chunks of time in a movie about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons when nobody is doing any singing. And when one of the big musical numbers finally comes along, Eastwood’s direction is lifeless. He has the band do some perfunctory choreography, shoots them from a couple of different angles, gets a few audience reactions, and then moves on to the next scene. Every time. It feels like assembly line filmmaking.

The other big issue with Jersey Boys is the inconsistent tone that repeatedly takes the audience out of the narrative. Eastwood and his screenwriters can’t decide if they want the flick to be a corny Broadway show or a Goodfellas-esque depiction of real life for our mob-connected protagonists, so they try to have it both ways. As you might imagine, it’s an uncomfortable fit.

For instance, one scene finds the band negotiating with a mobster (Christopher Walken, playing every impersonator’s version of him) and a loan shark in an attempt to help Tommy out of a massive jam – it’s a dark situation where real physical harm is almost inevitable – but out of nowhere it becomes a comedic set piece in which Nick delivers an increasingly unhinged rant about sharing a hotel room with a slob for 10 years. It’s just weird.

What’s worse, Eastwood’s comedic chops aren’t what they used to be. The film is full of supposedly sly winks that he conveys with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Somebody tells young Joe Pesci that he’s funny, so he replies with an indignant “funny how?” One of the characters watches an episode of Rawhide on television, and you’ll never guess who pops up on the screen. The worst offender is the scene in which Bob Gaudio gets the inspiration for “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” I groaned so loudly that I got a death glare from the guy sitting next to me.

Sadly, the solid cast means a successful version of Jersey Boys was a possibility. Using several actors who previously played their roles on stage was a smart choice, especially when it comes to Young and Bergen. Mike Doyle also does nice work as Bob Crewe, the group’s shrewd and flamboyant producer.

But many of these actors are starring in their first big movie, so they could’ve used a director willing to help them modulate their performances accordingly. They’re not the first to learn in hindsight that stage and screen are vastly different beasts, and they won’t be the last.

Jersey Boys is rated R for language throughout.

Grade: C-