The time may have come to reconsider the New York City Center Encores! series objective. Initially, the mandate was to look back at remembered—or sometimes forgotten—Broadway musicals of the past so that audience members who had seen them would have cheerful reminders and audience members who hadn’t seen them would be given an appreciative look at what they’d missed.
Not so these days. In the last seasons the revivals of, for instance, The Life and Pal Joey have been remodels of the originals, as if the reason for their reappearance is to shape them for today’s audiences, the past being the past and no longer relevant, or unlikely to be enjoyed by contemporary musical aficionados. It’s as if the Encores! moniker is a misnomer and should be replaced by Revisals!
It’s not as if entertainment is to be scuttled, though. Entertainment remains uppermost, with the perhaps implied suggestion that what was entertaining back then would hardly qualify now.
The current offering, Jelly’s Last Jam, doesn’t quite fit that description, but it does represent a radical reworking of the production’s original intention as charted by bookwriter (and director) George C. Wolfe; lyricist Susan Birkenhead; the legendary and titular figure here, jazz musician Jelly Roll Morton, with musical adaptation and additional music by Luther Henderson.
What’s the hugely significant shift, the explanation behind this revisal? Jelly’s Last Jam was created as a vehicle for Gregory Hines, the late and outstanding tap dancer who’d learned from some of the greatest tappers of the 20th-century and lengthened their tradition, often with brother Maurice.
Granted, in 1992 it seemed odd to cast a dancer as one or the greatest jazz musicians of the 20th century, but Wolfe oh-so-smoothly ironed out that wrinkle by declaring that, in the show’s context, tapping was a metaphor for Morton’s jazz extemporizing. And, well yes, that made a kind of sense, certainly when Hines was the extemporizer. (He was credited with some of the original choreography.)
But here’s the rub for those attending a revival that can boast a multitude of musical pleasures: No tap dancer of Hines’ caliber is at the center. It may be that those in charge—Lear deBessonet is the Encores! artistic director—decided that Hines, a Tony winner in this role, is inimitable. (He sang with gusto matching his dancing.) They may have concluded that hiring an equal was too severe a challenge.
So, for this two-week revival/revisal, tall, handsome Nicholas Christopher—who sings robustly and does get to tap occasionally—is Jelly Roll Morton and a good one at that. But he’s also patently an emblem of why this Jelly’s Last Jam is a significant shift from what audiences saw in the 1992-93 run.
What, then, are the joys of this dust-off with wowee choreography by Edgar Godineaux and tap choreography (plenty of it for the hot-footed ensemble) by Dormeshia and wowee direction by Robert O’Hara? To begin with, Jelly’s Last Jam tells Morton’s story from a harsh backward gaze. The protagonist has died—hence the musical’s title—and Morton is guided, Scrooge-like, though his life as a too-frequently nasty character by Chimney Man (Billy Porter, liquidly effective as ever), who is hardly a Morton partisan.
Indeed, when not jazzing things up at the piano (Lafayette Harris and Andre Chew Lewis are the busy twin pianists, Jason Michael Webb the scrupulous conductor), Morton was a figure very much in love with himself and not as loving of those around him. He was especially back-of-the-hand with longtime sidekick Jack the Bear (John Clay III) and sometime girlfriend Anita (Joaquina Kalukango, her usual scene-stealing self). From start to finish, Morton is busy making sure people recognize he’s from New Orleans Creole Stock, not “coon stock.” Throughout, Christopher suavely pulls the acting assignment off.
During the lengthy first act and the short second act, Morton’s biography is sketchy in large part to keep the Morton-Birkenhead songs coming—Birkenhead’s clever, often effectively boisterous lyrics neatly enhancing Morton’s irresistible melodies. One title—“That’s How You Jazz”—stands for the triumph of the others. The jazzing that prevails is infectious, especially in the ensemble numbers, although Birkenhead’s words are often lost in the exhilarating shuffle.
Then there are the notable supporting performances. When Chimney Man takes Morton way back, Young Jelly emerges; he’s played by newcomer Alaman Diadhiou (who’s some find), tapping like the demon Hines was, as well as reminiscent of Savion Glover, who originally had the part. Kalukango gives Anita abundant snap and does some roof-raising on “Play the Music for Me.” Tiffany Mann as Miss Mamie, another of the cast’s rafter-shaking chanteuses, does just that.
Which leads to Leslie Uggams, Mitch Miller’s discovery way back when. She arrives about midway through the first act as Morton’s Gran Mimi, intent via “The Banishment” that her grandson not sully the family’s Creole name. On screen in American Fiction now (where she doesn’t sing), Uggams sings so forcibly that longtime fans might want to cry out “Hallelujah, Baby!” in deference to one of her previous Broadway turns.
And here’s something that rates as an Encores! series rarity: three players encoring their original roles. Mamie Duncan-Gibbs, Stephanie Pope Lofgren (she was Stephanie Pope then), and Allison M. Williams are back as The Hunnies, slinky commentators in glittering outfits that designer Dede Ayite, who did all the costumes, makes sexy as can be.
Definitely, there are myriad incentives for attending this Jelly’s Last Jam, but one of them is not to view it as it once was.
Jelly’s Last Jam opened Feb. 21, 2024, at City Center and runs through March 3. Tickets and information: nycitycenter.org
