Jonathan Groff (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

Just In Time

By Marc Miller

When Jonathan Groff finishes a big number in Just in Time-and there are quite a few-he's a mess. Bent over, breathing heavily from holding that long last note, wet hair in his face, sweating so profusely that the authors slipped a joke about it into the script, he has given, given, given. And when he's given that much, what are you going to do but take.

Just in Time, in which Groff plays the mid-century vocalist Bobby Darin, or rather plays Jonathan Groff playing Bobby Darin, is indifferently written and doesn't veer very far from the standard jukebox musical format. But as a showcase for a performer at the top of his game, and what seems is his heartfelt adulation and respect for the troubled guy he's playing, it's a keeper.

If you're of an age, you remember Darin. Born Walden Robert Cassotto, in East Harlem, he was a frail kid, with rheumatic fever, whose doctor assured his mother (Michele Pawk) that he wouldn't make it past 16. In fact, he only made it to 37, and determinedly crowded as much living into that short space as he could. He became a pop star at 22 with "Splish Splash"; romanced fellow vocalist Connie Francis (Gracie Lawrence), until her strict dad (Caesar Samayoa) put an end to it; crossed over into standards and had a major hit with "Mack the Knife"; signed a contract with Universal Pictures and met his wife, Sandra Dee (Erika Henningsen), on his first movie; was Oscar-nominated for "Captain Newman, M.D."; got embroiled in the cultural and civil rights battles of the '60s, antagonizing many of his fans; and acquired a certain peace of mind before dying in 1973.

Plenty of dramatic potential, it would seem. But the librettists, Warren Leight and Isaac Oliver, have curiously standardized the material, traversing the familiar jukebox format of rising star, troubles at the apex, descent, the skids, and find a way to send the crowd out on a high. They're smart in introducing Groff as Groff, explaining to us that he'll be portraying Darin, immediately putting us one station away from reality, and setting us up for the meta moments to follow.

But the storytelling is lopsided: almost every song in the first act is diegetic, i.e, actually being sung in performance, while almost every song in the second is non-diegetic, i.e., expressing the characters' feelings or forwarding the plot (barely). And the authors have a way of billboarding time and place in the baldest, most functional fashion. Darin to his sister, Nina (Emily Bergl), who's about to tell him an unpleasant truth about his parentage: "There's important things going on in the world! Vietnam, civil rights!"

When you're stuck with such boilerplate exposition, you'd better make up for it in the musical numbers, and that's where Just in Time excels. The Circle in the Square has been transformed into a swanky mid-century nightclub-like the Copa, which Darin's mom revered, and which he eventually played-with a chic semi-deco Derek McLane set, and lighting, by Justin Townsend, that evokes the purples and oranges of Darin's Technicolor output at Universal. The band, led by Andrew Resnick and scored for late-big-band sound by Resnick and Michael Thurber, blares with Nelson Riddle confidence.

Jonathan Groff (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

And if we must have another jukebox musical, at least this is a mighty tuneful jukebox. Groff comes out swinging with Steve Allen's "This Could Be the Start of Something," segues seamlessly into the title tune (with one inexplicably altered lyric, "changed my lonely heart that lovely day," not "life"), and keeps the hits coming.

And does he ever deliver. "Your hands are your real backup singers," Darin's ma tells him, utilizing her vaudeville background to tutor him in showbiz technique. (Pawk plays her touchingly, but she has a vibrato you could drive an Edsel through-intentional or not?) And he does gesticulate an awful lot, as Darin did, but he does so much more. He leaps up into the aisles, looks audience members (a couple dozen are onstage, at nightclub tables) directly in the eye, invites some lucky lady to dance with him, and, in brief, establishes a connection with the crowd such as Broadway seldom sees. "This can only happen in this room, right now, with you, and it'll never happen quite the same way again," he emotionally tells us in the finale, and we believe it.

It's not so much that Groff acts brilliantly, sings magnificently, or dances spectacularly (the choreography, by Shannon Lewis, is uncomplicated, though he sure looks terrific doing it-especially in Catherine Zuber's form-fitting '60s suits, which I want when he's done with them). What he has, and this is very rare, is a genius for making people happy. Hugh Jackman has it, Robert Preston had it, theatergoers of an advanced age will tell you Alfred Drake had it. There are many excellent musical leading men, but I can't think of any others who light up a stage like this. Groff's urgency to connect with us is so strong, his eagerness to please so unrelenting, that we can do little but marvel at his tenacity and surrender to it.

To be sure, Just in Time has other assets. Henningsen, in a thinly written part, does convey Dee's insecurity and determination to help her floundering husband, even as their marriage is falling apart. Lawrence, while she doesn't really sound like Connie Francis, has an appealing belt. Groff's three "Siren" backup singers (Valeria Yamin, Christine Cornish, and Julia Grondin), clad in Zuber's spangly miniskirts, shake it up in frantic variety-show fashion and nimbly fit into several supporting roles. And Joe Barbara, as Nina's sympathetic though possibly mob-connected spouse (his name's even Charlie Maffia), creates a whole character out of meager scraps. Alex Timbers's direction, aside from sometimes splitting the characters onstage wide apart, so we have to volley our heads like at a tennis match, keeps the narrative clear and swift.

Jonathan Groff and the Company (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

But you're not really here for the narrative, are you? Just in Time functions mainly as one great performer's tribute to another, ably embodying Darin's compulsion to wrap the audience in his arms, figuratively and sometimes literally. There has been a lot of performing virtuosity this season; we salute Sarah Snook, we adore Andrew Scott. But I'm not sure any other show has sent an audience out this happy, and that's Groff's doing. Certainly I haven't heard so many murmurings of "Isn't he amazing," and "Can you believe he does that eight times a week?" No, I can't.

Just in Time
At Circle in the Square, 235 W. 50^th St.
Tickets and information: www.justintimebroadway.com
Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes with intermission