Runtime: 2 hours, 14 minutes
Rating: R
Director: Clint Eastwood
Quick Impressions:
Our kids really like musicals, so when I first saw that Jersey Boys was coming to the big screen this summer, I planned to take the kids on opening weekend. But then I saw that it was rated R and directed by Clint Eastwood.
Can you imagine taking children to Mystic River or Million Dollar Baby? I’ve never seen the Broadway show, and I didn’t know much about the backstory of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, so with the R rating and Eastwood in the director’s chair, I just assumed the non-singing parts of the film would be gritty and intense with flashes of graphic violence and occasional nudity.
So when our five-year-old begged, “Please can I go to the movie with you tonight?” we had to tell her sorry, not this time.
But guess what? Now that I’ve seen the movie, I know that she could have watched it, after all. And her older brother would have loved it.
I’m honestly not exaggerating when I say that Jersey Boys has to be the softest R I have ever seen (well except maybe The King’s Speech. Maybe). Bleep out a few choice expletives, and this could literally air as is on network TV.
My husband and I speculated as we left the theater that this must be one of those movies that got an R just for saying the F-word more than whatever the arbitrary limit is now (once? Three times?) Honestly, though, you don’t notice the profanity. It’s hardly non-stop, and I don’t recall anything particularly offensive. And there’s no nudity (unless you count a guy pacing around in a towel yelling about needing more towels, and if you find that objectionable, how do you ever take your kids to the beach?)
Now maybe parents would want to steer their young children away from this. Jersey Boys does include some less-than-kindergarten-ready aspects of life. People sometimes cheat on their wives. People die. The Mafia exists. And there is one jump scare “murder” scene that may temporarily alarm young children. (But again, the average episode of CSI is scarier and more graphic.)
How in the world this didn’t end up PG-13 instead of R is beyond me. I mean, yeah, Frankie Valli and his friends are mixed up with the mob, but the mob boss is their friend and protector. Eastwood often gives us gritty, violent realism (or you might even argue hyper-realism since frequently in his movies, things are even more hopelessly grim than in real life). But in Jersey Boys, we get this incredibly romanticized, nostalgic reimagining of the seedy underbelly of New Jersey in the 1950s. It’s about as likely to corrupt and traumatize kids as that episode of the Simpsons where Bart joins the Mafia (although I guess that, too, caused a stir when it originally aired). The early part of the movie is kind of like the first fifteen minutes of Sleepers. The difference is, instead of getting their lives destroyed by a careening hot dog cart, these kids all join a boy band and become rich and famous.
I went into Jersey Boys with no particular expectations. I usually enjoy Broadway musicals (and own a lot of soundtracks), but I hadn’t seen this one, and though I know (and like) most of Frankie Valli’s biggest hits (more of them than I’d realized, in fact), I’m not exactly a rabid fan of The Four Seasons.
I also usually like films directed by Clint Eastwood. (Just because I’m weird, I guess, I’ve enjoyed some of his less warmly received films more than his hits. Sean Penn and Laura Linney’s last scene in Mystic River left me with kind of a gross feeling, and I think the dilemma in Million Dollar Baby is frustratingly contrived, but I actually really loved Changeling and found far more redeeming qualities in J. Edgar than a lot of people.)
But the name Clint Eastwood doesn’t exactly scream “Broadway musical,” and a Broadway musical directed by Eastwood seems like an odd choice for a big summer release. So I didn’t know what to expect and could easily have been talked out of going in favor of some other unknown movie.
I’m glad I went, though. In fact, a part of me wants to see the movie again. I know our eleven-year-old would love it, and I think my parents might enjoy it, too.
The Good:
When you go to the movies at least once a week, it’s hard to afford to see Broadway shows, too (particularly on Broadway). I live right in the heart of Texas, so Broadway is not exactly convenient. In fact, despite a love of musicals, I’ve never even been to New York. (I’ve seen quite a lot of West End shows over the years, though. And if you’re wondering why New York is inconvenient, but London’s not out of the way, the answer is how can I possibly afford to take a trip to New York if I’m going to London all the time? It’s very expensive to visit London!)
Anyway, I usually love musicals and used to peruse the showtunes section of the music store regularly, searching for soundtracks and original cast recordings that I didn’t yet own for my collection (which is now collecting dust on an entertainment shelf in my bedroom dedicated exclusively to storing old CDs and millions of used plastic drinking straws.) (Just don’t ask about the drinking straws.)
My point is, I didn’t know what to expect from Jersey Boys, and my lack of anticipation definitely worked in the film’s favor. I was surprised to find it consistently engaging, often funny, and well-acted by almost everyone.
I was also amazed by how great the movie looked and sounded. Clint Eastwood does not like bold colors. If you ever wake up washed out and look around you to see a lot of pale, dull, muted blue tones, then it’s a pretty good bet you’re in a Clint Eastwood movie. (How you got there is not my problem, and I don’t have time to address it here.)
The washed out look works well in a movie set in the past, though, and despite the pallor of the world, everything in Jersey Boys had a crisp, clear, desirable look to it. I particularly loved the numerous establishing shots of cars driving up and down the street. (We’d get these periodically to illustrate the passage of time or a change of location.) I would always think, “Wow! What a sleek, elegant, energizing time! I wish I had lived then!” (I did, actually, live in the 90s. So when I saw those cars, I just missed riding around with my Grandpa.)
As you might expect, the music is really great, too. It’s literally toe-tapping. Some songs refuse to let the audience get away with not nodding their heads and tapping their toes. And as I watched, I felt like a total idiot because I hadn’t realized until seeing Jersey Boys just how much the popular sound of the 1960s was influenced by The Four Seasons. When I thought of Frankie Valli before the movie, I immediately called to mind “Walk Like a Man” and “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” but they sing a billion other songs, and (to my surprise) I knew all of those, too (most of them very well). (The one song I didn’t know was “My Eyes Adored You.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before. Don’t ask me why. Huge, inexplicable gaps like that are always surfacing in my pop culture knowledge.)
But the movie is more than just the songs. It’s easy to believe that it came from a Broadway show because it still feels a lot like one. Characters are always breaking the fourth wall and narrating. Each one of the Four Seasons spends some time talking to the audience. I think this device works well even in the film because it prevents the movie from dragging. With a few exceptions, the movie stays focused and moves forward at a brisk pace. We don’t have to see each mundane thing that happens because if we jump forward in time, one of the narrators can catch us up on what we’ve missed.
Elements like Tommy and Nick’s limited stints in the revolving door prison serve as a reminder that the movie is adapted from a stage play. I liked the artificiality of this structuring device. Musicals aren’t really supposed to be realistic. They’re as much their own genre as comedy or drama, and one of the markers of a musical is a structure that’s one step removed from ordinary reality. Often song lyrics reveal and drive the plot. In this case, the songs are realistic recreations of pop hits, but the speaking-to-the-camera device works like a song would in a more traditional stage musical. For me, these confidential asides from our friendly narrators make the story far more engaging than it would be if presented more realistically.
The movie also features some fantastic performances, all from actors I’d barely (and in many cases never) heard of. (The only big star in this movie is Christopher Walken. Everybody else is either unknown or next to unknown. I don’t know where Eastwood found them all, but most of them are fantastic.)
John Lloyd Young, who played Frankie Valli on Broadway reprises the role here. That makes sense because it must be tricky to find someone who sings like Frankie Valli, especially if you want that person to look passably like Valli and to be within a certain age range. Young does have a great voice (probably not as good as Valli’s, but still a million times better than mine), and he has some fine dramatic moments, too (although I think he’s the weakest of the four leads in terms of acting).
Erich Bergen makes a really captivating Bob Gaudio (and he looks so familiar. At different moments his face reminded me of Toby Stephens, Tate Donovan, and even a little of Armie Hammer—though that’s more his expressions than his face. He turned out not to be any of those guys, so I thought he must have been an original Broadway cast member. Nope. So who is Erich Bergen, anyway? Apparently he did play the part of Bob Gaudio on stage in Vegas for a while but was fired. That’s all I know about him, but I imagine I’ll know more in the future because he strikes me as a promising talent.
Meanwhile, Michael Lomenda played Nick Massi in a Canadian production of Jersey Boys (as well as on tour). He’s very good, too and brings a lot of depth to a character who doesn’t have very many lines and even self-identifies as the Ringo of the group who mostly stays in the background and doesn’t pull focus.
Probably my favorite of the main cast members is Vincent Piazza as Tommy DeVito. I’ve never watched Boardwalk Empire, so this performance was my introduction to Piazza, and I loved him. He’s the only one of the four who has never played his character before on stage, but I think he’s the best actor of the bunch (by far). His charisma makes him very appealing. (I initially wrote, “He’s very handsome.” But that’s not true because he looks like somebody smashed the hair and forehead of Edward Cullen on top of the face of Harry Potter.) But he definitely has a spark. Of course, Tommy DeVito is also the character I found the most interesting, so I’m not sure if Piazza is the best actor or if it just seems that way because he has the best part. At that point, it becomes a vicious circle.
Only at the end of the movie did I realize that Valli and Gaudio were executive producers and also behind the original Broadway musical itself. (Their handshake seems a lot more significant when you realize that they must have profited tremendously from the highly successful show.) Given the tumultuous events depicted late in the film, thought, I was truly surprised in retrospect that Tommy is portrayed so sympathetically early on (in a project produced by Valli and Gaudio). Tommy’s the first person we talk to, our very first narrator, and he definitely presents himself in a compelling way. In the end, in fact, I thought of all the protagonists, only Tommy DeVito truly has depth and complexity. You wouldn’t call him a hero. He’s like a clever fish who has figured out how to swim successfully through his habitat. Then suddenly he realizes that the body of water he’s in is much bigger than he ever dreamed, and now he’s out of his element, and his old survival skills no longer work. Right from the beginning, you know this guy is going places, and you also know that when he gets there, he’s going to be so lost. He seems to want to be like Frank Sinatra except that he knows he’s not a great singer. That’s how you know his life is bound to go off the rails in a big way. He does his best to live like Sinatra, and he can’t particularly sing.
Best Action Sequence:
Near the very beginning, there’s an antically zany scene in a getaway car that was like something out of an old cartoon. I’m completely positive that our eleven-year-old would have found this scene hilarious and riveting. It’s highly engaging without being at all disturbing or violent. When this happened, I realized suddenly, Oh I see! This movie is going to be a lot of fun. It’s going to be a pleasure to watch. I was quite gratified to realize that.
Best Scene:
I can’t defend this choice by arguing that it’s the most important scene in the movie (because clearly, it’s not) but my favorite part was Frankie’s first date with Mary Delgado, the restaurant scene. I absolutely fell in love with Mary (as winningly portrayed by Renée Marino, who also played the role on Broadway). She makes the character so feisty and fun and full-bodied and believable. You’re completely sold that this woman really exists, and you totally get what Frankie sees in her. At least, I did. As I watched their lively conversation, I thought, Good grief! A few more minutes of this, and I’m going to propose to her myself.
I know Renée Marino is mainly a stage actress, but I hope she makes more movies after this because I now think she’s fantastic.
Funniest Scene:
Despite what the Hollywood Foreign Press seems to think, musical is not synonymous with comedy, and I can think of quite a few musicals that are very dark without much humor at all. Though I went in fully expecting Jersey Boys to be one of those, it’s actually extremely funny. Of course, because it’s autobiographical, it’s much more a drama than a comedy, but there are plenty of genuine laughs throughout the entire thing.
To be honest, the first part of the movie (the scenes of Frankie’s teen years before the group gels and hits it big) was so delightful and charming that it made me want to travel back in time and visit the era. Seriously I was sitting there feeling nostalgic for 1950s New Jersey! Then I had to remind myself I was born in 1979, but a huge part of me was still like, Are you sure? This world looks very vivid and delightful. I’m pretty positive that I was there and have a lot of fond memories of those years.
For me, the funniest line of the movie belongs to Christopher Walken (which is hardly surprising). At a moment of unusually high tension (the most stressful scene of the film, in fact) Walken’s Gyp DeCarlo has a throw-away line that’s far more hilarious than it ought to be. Part of the humor surely lies in Christopher Walken’s delivery. (He just has that rare and coveted ability to make anything a hundred times funnier. I swear Walken could stand in front of a brick wall not talking and making no facial expressions for half an hour, and about fifteen minutes in, you’d suddenly burst out laughing for a minute or so and never be able to explain what he had done to provoke the outburst.)
The line itself is sort of witty, but what really makes us laugh, I think, is the unexpected timing of the joke. Really, it’s a moment of such high stakes and high stress. When the most important guy in the room opens up his mouth just then, we’re just not expecting a joke. That makes it funnier.
Best Scene Visually:
There’s a moment when the camera climbs a sky scraper that I absolutely love. Watching, I thought with a thrill of excitement (and a rush of memories of our recent trip to Chicago), “Oh I love the city! Big cities are the best!” Then I swiftly realized, “Of course, I also love the country. It would be really amazing to live out on a big piece of land under the stars and roam around all day through a field of wildflowers chasing butterflies!” Then I realized, My problem is, I just love everything! City, country, Broadway musicals, movies…
Life is too short, you know.
But the climb up the building is great as are the frequent scenes of period cars driving down the street to help us establish the era we’re in at the moment.
By far the most beautiful thing in this movie, however, is one of the child actresses who plays young Francine sitting on the stairs. The girl has an ethereal beauty. She’s absolutely breathtaking, like an actual angel doing a cameo. My husband even remarked on her conspicuous beauty after the movie was over. I believe this particular young Francine is named Elizabeth Hunter. She is the loveliest child I have seen on screen in a long time. I don’t know if it’s all just lighting, make-up, and camera tricks, or if she really has that stunning, perfect beauty in real life. Part of me wants to scream, “Run, little girl! You’re too beautiful! Get out of Hollywood before they destroy you!” I’m wondering if this extreme, dramatic beauty is intentional. No one else in the movie looks so ethereal. Maybe Frankie idealizes Francine, and that’s why she gets this treatment.
The Negatives:
The movie loses a lot of energy in the second half.
What happens with Francine is tragic, but I found myself not caring in the way I thought I should. Now don’t get me wrong. If you’re the real Frankie Valli, you have my deepest sympathies, and I’m not trying to be disrespectful or trivialize your pain. But I have two problems with the way the movie handles this plotline.
The biggest issue is, the character of Francine is really not revealed to us until it’s too late. Throughout the movie, we know almost nothing about her at all. Then suddenly we get an unexpected reference to her immense talent and her desire to become a professional singer herself. This seems to come from out of nowhere. Maybe the movie needs to slow down a little bit in the early part of the Francine subplot to let us get to know her character a bit better so we can connect with her more deeply.
A lesser but still relevant issue is that although John Lloyd Young has a fantastic singing voice and thoroughly convinces us he’s Frankie Valli, his dramatic acting is not what it might be. To convey strong emotion, he merely gets silent and stares with tears in his eyes. As I’m describing this tactic, I realize, But that ought to work. That’s what a lot of truly marvelous actors do to convey strong emotion. Well, I’m not a great actor, and I’m not a man, so don’t ask me to explain it. All I can tell you is that he’s doing it wrong somehow.
Ultimately all of the characters are too shallow. Even though I felt bad about it, I didn’t care enough (or know enough) about Frankie or Francine to really feel a cathartic connection to this part of the story.
After the big confrontation/meeting/intervention scene in Gyp’s office, the movie develops pacing problems and seems to lose its focus and forward momentum for a time. It finishes strong, but until the big finish, it falters quite a bit. I’m assuming that quite a bit of material had to be cut from the stage musical (because that’s usually the case), so maybe Jersey Boys is longer and works better as a Broadway show.
As a movie, though, I find it curiously lacking in depth and development. It tells the story of the rise (and decline) of the Four Seasons well enough, but the only character we truly learn anything worthwhile about is Tommy. The rest of them don’t get as much development, not even Frankie. (With him, we learn too little, too late.) He’s very strong in the scene in Gyp’s office, but until that moment, he never really seems like his own person. I think if we understood him a bit better (got more interiority from him) in the beginning, the ending of the movie would be more powerful. As it is, there’s just not time to care enough.
Part of me wonders if perhaps Eastwood just wasn’t more interested in/enchanted by the early years of Frankie’s life than his later career and adulthood.
Of course, it can’t be the director’s fault that the film (quirky and colorful in the first half) becomes formulaic after the Four Seasons rise to fame. Every time we get a biopic of an entertainer, we see an early marriage fall apart because the famous spouse is never there, and half the time, the remaining spouse descends into drug abuse/depression/alcoholism/some combination. Usually it’s the wife who stays at home and goes insane. And then the husband is always baffled by this and finds women so mysterious and keeps reflecting on it in later years and asking why the marriage fell apart. And he usually expresses some sentiment like, “I just never could see why this was happening because I was busy being on tour 300 days a year,” and sitting in the audience, you just want to scream, “Oh, maybe you should have come home to look into that.” Seriously, I don’t understand why the husbands never seem to get why the wives become depressed when they’re home alone with the kids for ten or eleven months out of every year and the husband is off with a string of girlfriends and his buddies on the road. In life, there are many great, unfathomable mysteries, and I’m afraid that this is just not one of them.
Of course, maybe this just seems obvious to me because I’m a woman. It’s very easy for me to comment on how ridiculous it is to mystify women’s motives needlessly, and yet I myself find men a constant source of mystery. Early on in the film, when Tommy is giving Frankie advice about women, I found myself thinking, It seems so hard to be a man. There are so many complicated rules and social conventions. Of course, thoughts like that seemed particularly to apply to Tommy who so desperately wanted to learn how to navigate his world, behave properly, and rise to become something better. Honestly I think Tommy is better written (and acted) than all of the other characters because what he’s doing and what he’s about is clear immediately, and we really don’t get that level of insight into any of the other characters. (Well, I mean, we do get Tommy’s opinion of Mary, which is very interesting.) I wonder if Tommy handles the bulk of the early narration because his real-life narration helped shape Frankie’s early perceptions of the world and how to behave in it. The frustrating thing is, once Frankie steps out of Tommy’s shadow and finds his own voice, he doesn’t seem to have anything much to say. That’s one of the disappointing things about this film. Whether it’s the same way in the stage show, I don’t know.
One final word: make-up. Clint Eastwood should probably just stop making movies that requires young leads to put on tons of old age make-up in the final scenes because whomever he’s hiring to do it clearly does not know how. The old age make-up at the end of Jersey Boys isn’t quite as bad as the make-up in J. Edgar. Well, actually, yes it is. It’s every bit as bad. In fact, now that I think about it, it’s worse.
Overall:
I would be more than happy to watch Jersey Boys again, and if I had the money, I’d take my kids right now. Like I said, it’s one of the softest Rs I’ve ever seen. The rating, honestly, is ridiculous. Families could enjoy this movie. It’s a lot more fun than I expected, and the great soundtrack and top-notch performances make it engaging viewing start to finish, even if the second half is conspicuously weaker than the first.
My only regret about the whole experience was that the theater showed at least eight (possibly ten) previews before the movie started. Did they lose the film and throw on a second reel of previews while they scoured the projection box for it? Maybe. (It reminded me of an old SNL skit from a million years ago where they get locked in Lowe’s watching never-ending previews starring Shelley Long.) All I know for sure is, I’d happily watch the movie again, but I think I’ll wait till it’s on blu-ray so I don’t have to sit through another twenty-five minutes of previews first.