Reviews

All Shook Up

This musical based on the songs of Elvis Presley isn’t all that original, but it’s surprisingly entertaining.

Wally Dunn, Susan Anton, and Joe Mandragona
in All Shook Up
(© Carol Rosegg)
Wally Dunn, Susan Anton, and Joe Mandragona
in All Shook Up
(© Carol Rosegg)

Sneer as one might about the relentless mining of 1950s kitsch for musical inspiration, All Shook Up consistently and insistently seduces. The major credit for this goes not just to the catalogue of Elvis Presley songs but also to the book by Joe Di Pietro (of I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change fame), which focuses on a motorcycle-riding stranger’s arrival in a small town. While concocting a shamelessly derivative stew of theatrical/cinematic references, from As You Like It and Twelfth Night to Footloose and Hairspray, Di Pietro manages to make the material piquant and, against all odds, fresh. Added to the mix are David Rockwell’s ingenious, evocative sets (catch the cupids in the closing scene) and Sergio Trujillo’s snappy, peppy choreography.

With some notable exceptions, however, the touring production of the show doesn’t get much of a boost from its principals. Joe Mandragona may have the requisite physique for the Presleyesque roustabout Chad, but his pelvic gyrations don’t generate much heat. Maybe that’s because his voice is rather high and thin. What’s a Presley without that warm tremolo guaranteed to set aural G-spots thrumming?

What about that statuesque glamour girl who looks like Susan Anton? Well, it is Susan Anton, now an eerily well-preserved 55. Alas, “statuesque” also applies to her acting style — and what’s a 1960s-style bouffant doing in a paean to the 1950s? Wig and hair designer David H. Lawrence gets a demerit for Anton’s ‘do. But David C. Woolard’s costumes, from the mayoress’ trim lilac suit to the swingers’ bobby sox, are spot-on.

Jenny Fellner does a yeoman’s job as the Gidgety “grease monkey” Natalie, who has yet to enjoy being a girl. If only her alter-ego, Ed — Natalie eventually goes undercover as a guy to get close to Chad — didn’t look like David Spade on an especially squirrelly day. Sure, the joke is that this weird little dweeb turns out to be sexual catnip, but this requires too great a suspension of disbelief. As Dennis, a genuine geek who secretly (but obviously) pines after Natalie, Dennis Moench has got the gawky body language down, and his voice has a wonderfully warm timbre. Still, there’s really only one person in the cast whose pipes approach Presley’s, and he’s silent for most of the show: Kudos to David Benoit as the taciturn Sheriff Earl.

Wally Dunn is winning as Natalie’s father, Jim, who turns to Chad for counsel on how to improve his cool quotient. As Jim’s buddy (and perhaps more) Sylvia, a seen-it-all bartender, NaTasha Yvette Williams emerges as an audience favorite. Her high notes rock the house, and her rendition of “There’s Always Me” is an oasis of genuine emotion amid the general “wall of sound” approach that reduces much of Presley’s catalogue to assaultive choral medleys. Rounding out the cast are Valisia Lekae Little and Brian Sears, who vibrantly embody the kind of innocent teenage lust — call it horniness, if you must — that would eventually topple the era’s veneer of propriety-at-all-costs.

This show may not be original, but it sure is entertaining. In fact, it’s precisely the kind of piffle that Presley’s handlers would have been happy to commandeer as a vehicle back in the heyday. To echo the immortal King, you might as well “Let Yourself Go” and let yourself get all shook up.