The newest in an extended line of jukebox musicals to be impeccably carried out however useless behind the eyes – Ain’t Too Proud – The Life and Times of The Temptations opens on the Prince Edward Theatre
“Momma I’m depending on you to tell me the truth”
What a second to be opening a brand new jukebox musical… As limitless debates rage about viewers behaviour and the culpability (or in any other case) of this explicit sub-genre, Ain’t Too Proud – The Life and Times of The Temptations launches onto the vast stage of the Prince Edward Theatre as the newest in an extended line of the Jersey Boys-style bio-drama/live performance efficiency which is, in fact, the far much less imaginative path to take in terms of these jukebox exhibits.
It’s a very good whereas since I’ve seen Jersey Boys itself however I wasn’t a fan then and as I’ve taken within the Motown, On Your Feet!, Get Up Stand Up!, The Drifters Girl and extra, there’s a miserable recurrence of the identical points. Glitzy productions led by robust casts delivering some distinctive vocal performances, papering over the cracks of the flimsiest of sanitised, selective books, deathly afraid to the touch something controversial about its topic (usually on account of their involvement, or that of their property).
Such is the case right here. Dominique Morisseau’s guide pulls from Otis Williams’ memoir, co-authored by Patricia Romanowski, and as a founding (and solely surviving) member of the Temptations, it handcuffs the narrative to his perspective and his interpretation of occasions – his avatar right here actually narrates at instances. The result’s a narrative that’s depressingly missing intimately – the social context of era-defining occasions paid scant lip service, biographical insights into his fellow band members ushered off-stage on an precise conveyor belt much less they scuff up the shiny presentation.
That’s to not deny the robust work from the central 5 – Sifiso Mazibuko’s Otis Williams, Cameron Bernard Jones’s Melvin Franklin, Kyle Cox’s Paul Williams, Tosh Wanogho-Maud’s David Ruffin and Mitchell Zhangazha’s Eddie Kendricks are all appealingly executed, significantly within the swish strikes of Sergio Trujillo’s choreography. But Des McAnuff’s manufacturing can’t conceal the whole lack of dramatic dynamism or storytelling intent, past offering a shiny new automobile for among the biggest music ever composed.