A Wonderful World couldn’t have come at a better time, even if you’re forced to take its title with a grain of salt. Following a week of crushingly disappointing news, this juke-box bio-musical—which premiered at Miami New Drama in 2020—is about Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong (1901-1971), the genial jazz icon, trumpet player, sometime movie actor, and gravelly-voiced singer. It brings a redhot blast of enthusiastic joy—a loaded word these days—to Broadway’s Studio 54, under Roundabout Theatre auspices.
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| Gavin Gregory (rear). All photos: Jeremy Daniel. |
Not that the story of Armstrong’s life doesn’t carry with it
plenty of sour notes about just how less than wonderful his world really was; the
show, however, which, fortunately, supports his story with the actual songs
that boosted his success—rip-roaringly arranged by Branford Marsalis, with
additional input from Daryl Waters—reminds us of why Armstrong remained such a beloved
showman for so many years. And, with a dazzling portrayal of him by the gifted
James Monroe Iglehart—whose Tony-winning Genie in Aladdin was a
Broadway landmark of the last decade—A Wonderful World is, despite its obvious
warts, a delightful, even wonderful, musical.
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| James Monroe Iglehart. |
Like so many other bio-musicals, this one attempts to squeeze
a lifetime of creative achievement and personal ups and downs into a couple of
hours of stage time. It requires extreme condensation by book writer Aurin
Squire to pack in as much biography as possible, while finding excuses for 28 songs
(plus a few reprises). Midway through the second act, the book’s chain of
biographical sketches begins to flounder, but the music usually manages to plug
the leaks and keep the show afloat.
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| James Monroe Iglehart and company, |
Born into poverty in New Orleans, young Louis was, for a
time, nurtured by a Jewish family. When he matured and gained attention for his
cornet (and then trumpet) skills, he was forced to confront racists and gangsters.
His early career took off in a jazz band led by King Joe Oliver (Gavin Gregory),
with whom he moved to Chicago. He eventually parted from Oliver—with friction—to
go out on his own. He was beckoned by Hollywood, where he befriended the
enormously successful Black comedian and former vaudevillian Lincoln Perry (DeWitt
Fleming, Jr.), better known as Stepin Fetchit, and comically characterized as “the laziest man in the world.” Unlike Perry, movie stardom was not in the stars for Satchmo—a nickname whose
derivation is never explained--at a time when notable Black artists barely existed
in mainstream movies. In the 1950s he struggled to overcome blowback for criticizing
Pres. Eisenhower regarding civil rights, but, in his final decade, Armstrong returned
to popular grace with blockbuster recordings of songs like “Hello, Dolly” and the
title number.
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| James Monroe Iglehart and Gavin Gregory. |
Armstrong, a serial philanderer, married four women, his
marriages providing the book’s chief narrative milestones. He moves from the switchblade-wielding
New Orleans prostitute, Daisy Parker (Dionne Figgins), to the slickly sophisticated,
business-wise musician Lil Hardin (Jennie Harney Fleming), to the materialistic
Alpha Smith (Kim Exum), to Cotton Club singer Lucille Wilson (Darlesia Cearcy),
who finally manages to stop his adulteries and provide him with a stable
homelife.
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| Jennie Harney-Fleming and James Monroe Iglehart. |
Each wife is played by an outstanding singer-actress who gets one or more knockout numbers (sometimes shared), including Daisy’s “Kiss of Fire,” Lil’s “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” and “Heebie Jeebies,” Lil and Daisy’s “Some of These Days” (sung as a warning to Louis for what he’ll suffer when they’re gone), and Alpha’s “Big Butter and Egg Man” and “Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth the Salt of My Tears.”
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| James Monroe Iglehart. |
All the songs but one (I believe)—“Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth the Salt of My Tears”—were recorded by Armstrong, even those others sing. The narrative uses their lyrics and feelings to move things along, although the words don’t always fit the events precisely. But for all the extraordinary singing of these great (mostly) standards, the voice you want to hear is Iglehart’s, whose instrument so effectively captures Satchmo’s sandpaper sound—its cause is too quickly glossed over—you worry he’ll somehow strain it.
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| DeWitt Fleming, Jr., and company.. |
Christopher Renshaw is credited as the director, while Iglehart and Christina Sajous are credited as codirectors, whatever that eccentric arrangement entails. As Armstrong, Iglehart is a beaming, one-man charm factory, handkerchief in hand to wipe his horn, mouth, and brow, choppers bright as headlights, a N’Orleans accent saying “foist” for “first” and “goils” for “girls.” Larger in size, in each direction, than the original, Iglehart—as they say of big dancers—is light on his feet, in complete control of his physical, histrionic, and musical chores.
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| Darlesia Cearcy. |
I’m not certain about his trumpet playing, though. An online
article on a reputable site claims he learned to play, but no one can simply
learn to play as well as Louis Armstrong. During the performance I saw,
there was a timing slip when the trumpet was heard a second before the
mouthpiece hit the actor’s lips, which those near me also noted. So I’ll wait
for clarification from anyone who knows. At any rate, if someone else is playing
the trumpet, it’s probably one of the trumpeters in the nine-piece onstage
band, Alphonso Horne and Bruce Harris.
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| James Monoe Iglehart and Darlesia Cearcy. |
Much as Iglehart can wiggle a light-footed tootsie or two, there’s
a heart-thumping ensemble (the show has 26 performers) around him to do the
heavy lifting required by Ricky Tripp’s good, old-fashioned showbiz choreography
and musical staging. Tripp takes us from the sexily jazzy dancers of New Orleans
in the 1910s to the vaudeville style chorus lines of Chicago in the 1920s to the
tap-dancing routines of Stepin Fetchit in 1930s Hollywood and beyond. Everyone
looks sensational in Toni-Leslie James’s period-spanning costumes on Adam Koch
and Steven Royal’s complex set of catwalks, flying backgrounds, and moving units,
perfectly lit by Cory Pattak.
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| Foreground: Jimmy Smagula, Darlesia Cearcy, James Monroe Iglehart, Jason Forbach. |
A Wonderful World has a seriously imperfect book, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore it. Don’t go looking for a serious examination of Louis Armstrong’s position in the history of jazz, for a penetrating portrayal of a complicated man whose private life was masked by a lovable persona, or for a sizzling x-ray of the racism that pervaded American entertainment in the last century.
Just consider the flimsy biographical material
a necessary premise to bring Armstrong’s music back to the stage—even when
others are singing it. A Wonderful World has a polished company, a
charismatic star, rousing choreography, eye-catching costumes, and all the
other accoutrements of an entertaining Broadway musical. In view of what’s
happening outside, the wonderful world on stage at Studio 54 does just fine.
A Wonderful World: The Louis
Armstrong Musical
Studio 54
254 W. 54th
Street, NYC
Open run