Brett Williams
Lonny (Sean Langenecker) struts his stuff.
You know you are in for a kick-ass, hedonistic evening when you enter a haze-filled theater, plastered with hair-band posters, and Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle” is blasting through the sound system.
It’s not a Whitesnake reunion tour, it’s Rock of Ages, the jukebox musical tribute to the excesses of the 1980s. Presented by Madison Theatre Guild and OUT!Cast Theatre Productions and boldly directed by Dana Pellebon, Rock of Ages — at the Bartell Theatre through March 17 — boasts a large, enthusiastic cast clad in half-shirts, leather pants, skin-tight animal prints — and a lot of really big hair.
With a plot as thin as a broken guitar string, the story is an excuse to revisit some of the songs that teenage Generation X-ers cranked up to 11 on their boomboxes back in the Reagan era. Power ballads and head-banging tunes from Joan Jett, Whitesnake, Guns N’ Roses, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Twisted Sister and Jon Bon Jovi are shoehorned into as many scenes as possible.
The slight plot features a sweet, small-town girl who wants to make it in Los Angeles (Kate Mann) and the struggling songwriter who falls for her: “just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit” (Travis Phillips). A strung-out rocker on his farewell tour (Andrew Lonsdale) takes time out from being fondled by female fans to complete the inevitable love triangle. They all meet at the Bourbon Room, a sleazy rock club on the Sunset Strip, run by some hard partiers (Sean Langenecker and Terry Christopher). Evil German land developers (Dennis Yadon and Patrick Chounet) want to close the beloved club and replace it with something clean and efficient. Only a city planner stuck in the ’60s can stop them (Nicky Dougherty), with some old-fashioned protesting. With choreography from Lyn Pilch, everyone writhes, lunges and crawls their way through the story, using MTV video moves that made Tipper Gore blush.
As the show’s cheeky narrator who keeps things moving between dance breaks, Langenecker is clearly having the most fun of anyone in the theater. His boundless energy and continuous crotch-grabbing fully exploit the material he’s given. Dougherty is another standout, and Mann, with her killer voice, is completely charming here as a good girl going bad, even getting the hang of pole dancing by the end.
The onstage band, led by music director Erin McConnell, totally rocks the house, but the guys in the show just aren’t up to the vocal challenge. They don’t have the gravelly edge — or the range — of Axl Rose and company, and that takes the fun out of a lot of the big numbers. They are also frequently overwhelmed by the chorus. And even the onstage pyrotechnics, laser light show and a confetti cannon can’t make up for sour notes at the top of the scale. But hey, don’t let that stop you from believin’. After all, every rose has its thorn.
