Graying rock 'n' rollers may not remember the names of Leiber and Stoller, but they won't forget their music.

The hit songs of the '50s and '60s recorded by Elvis, Peggy Lee, Dion and others define a historical period when lyrics were still intelligible and LSD had not yet begun to corrupt the melodies.

"Smokey Joe's Café," staged and choreographed by Derek Daniels at Army Community Theatre, features 40 nonstop hits by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller: "Hound Dog," "Kansas City," "Yakety-Yak," "Charlie Brown," "On Broadway," and many more.

The show is a string of numbers without a plot line or even an implied narrative. On Broadway, it was nominated for a Tony award, and a touring production temporarily resurrected the career of Gladys Knight.

Manoa Valley Theatre staged it last season with a small cast in a comparatively intimate setting. Daniels' version inflates the size and look of the production to match the cavernous Richardson Theater at Fort Shafter. Both approaches are valid, but the elements within the ACT production sometimes clash.

Tom Giza's set suggests a vaguely Asian nightclub or the mixed décor of a high-school prom. Musical director Carla Jones and her small combo are part of the set on a raised bandstand. Lighting designer John Parkinson accents the stage with a pair of illuminated stairways and a collection of hanging mirrored globes, but keeps things dimly lit — and kind of "smokey."

This has us sometimes peering through the gloom to identify the singer, a task made more difficult by a spunky and wayward new sound system. To say that the sound lacks balance doesn't adequately explain the pantomiming trio of backup singers and the stereophonic B-52-bomber sound effects that fly through the auditorium.

When the mikes work, the music is a lot of fun.

Alison Maldonado neatly controls focus on all of her solos, managing to tame a monstrous red feather boa during "You're the Boss." Traci Toguchi lets loose with vocal skyrockets on "Pearl's a Singer" and Amado Cacho matches them with an impassioned "I Who Have Nothing." Elvis impersonator Dawe Glover takes the lead on "Jailhouse Rock."

The men's quartet (Cacho, Glover, Arnold Pontillas and Gene DeFrancis) creates a smooth ensemble. And the musicians provide excellent support. But the show lacks continuity and feels like it's pushing too hard. The big and splashy approach sometimes seems to work against the music, with too many singers and dancers pulling for focus.

Daniels also designed dozens of bright and elaborate costumes that match the big approach. At times, however, the staging is too literal or too over-the-top with furs, suitcases and sequined silver top hats.

In the end, there's lots of nostalgia in "Smokey Joe's Café," but not enough authentic soul.


Monday, November 18, 2002

Big show can be blustery
at times in ACT production

By John Berger


Give Derek Daniels, director/choreographer/costume designer for Army Community Theatre's production of "Smokey Joe's Cafe," credit for thinking big. Andrew Sakaguchi used a cast of eight singers and five musicians when he presented the show at Manoa Valley Theatre last fall. Daniels' version of this lightweight tribute to the music of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller uses 11 primary singers, three back-up singers, six musicians, a conductor and seven dancers.

Daniels' production proves unquestionably that bigger is indeed bigger.

Tom Giza (set design) provides the cast with an attractive art-deco style bar/ballroom.

Café or ballroom, the brightest star in Daniels' expansive show is vocalist Allison Maldonado. Maldonado demonstrates her charisma and formidable talent in several stellar solo numbers; she usually gives the strongest performance in the female ensemble numbers as well. The impact of her performance is heightened by the fact that she obviously understands the lyric nuances, sings the emotion in the songs rather than just the words and is the only member of the cast who can always be heard clearly over the band.

Maldonado offers a perfect up-tempo interpretation of "Fools Fall in Love" and then rocks the rafters with "Saved" in Act I. Her torch song reprise of "Fools" in Act II, is another of the brightest moments in an otherwise very uneven show.

Unfortunately, none of the other women display Maldonado's consistent grasp of the material. Several -- Shawna Masuda and Kris Chun in particular -- are seen but barely heard even on solo ballads; others are drowned out by the band and backing vocalists.

And then there's stage veteran Traci Toguchi, who attacks her big numbers with the subtlety of a brick through a window. Toguchi affects rock star-style poses that may be intended to establish her soulfulness or how deeply she's getting into it. They don't, and she doesn't.

Toguchi strips any hint of soul or emotion from "Hound Dog" and is completely miscast singing "Don't," an extremely romantic ballad written for Elvis, opposite Dawe Glover, a professional Elvis impersonator. Toguchi's exaggerated delivery obliterates any residual romantic shadings.

There is not even an illusion of romantic chemistry in play as Toguchi sings "Don't" past -- rather than to -- Glover, while he sings "Love Me" past her, rather as though this were a high school play with two people who loathe each other cast as the romantic leads. "Love Me"/"Don't" is one of the worst numbers in the show.

Glover, however, has some good times with the other men -- Amado Cacho, Gene DeFrancis and Arnold Pontillas. They work well as an ensemble with "Young Blood," "Poison Ivy," "Little Egypt" and "Keep on Rollin'." Tara Easley adds a bright splash of sex appeal as the toxic femme fatale in "Poison Ivy," and Michelle Matias is charming and seductive as Little Egypt despite an excessively conservative costume.

"Poison Ivy" and "Little Egypt" are two of Daniels' best ideas as a choreographer, but he also uses dancers to provide continuity in linking the Ben E. King numbers, "Spanish Harlem" and "I (Who Have Nothing)." Pontillas finishes "Spanish Harlem" and walks off stage with dancers Camissa Hill and Diana Mills. Cacho appears as they're leaving, watches them leave as he stands alone, and launches into "I (Who Have Nothing."

This was Cacho's best number on opening night. After sounding for most of the night as though he were singing through a tin can, Cacho bounced back to give "I (Who Have Nothing)" more emotion and sheer vocal power than the sound system could handle.

Credit Daniels also with presenting "There Goes My Baby" as a straight romantic tragedy rather than trashing it as Sakaguchi opted to do last year. Daniels' staging of "Some Cats Know" -- Jade Glover (Dawe's wife) seated on the bar in a revealing black frock, with Cacho and DeFrancis as her silent admirers -- is another successful idea. It's also a fine showcase for Glover.

Daniels brings his own sense of style and panache to the show as costume designer.

Easley's skin-tight Poison Ivy costume and big rust-red wig, Maldonado's sequins-and-big-feathers diva gown, and the period costumes worn by the female singers in "Kansas City" are all assets to the show.

On the other hand, in several vignettes, women sing to a silent man who refuses to acknowledge them. One such piece would be enough. After all, one thing Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller didn't write about was men who aren't interested in women.