Imagine a dog. The dog isn’t the best dog ever, but he’s a good dog. He’s got a lot of energy. He’s excitable. People like him. He’s got a lot of charm. And then an old guy, who used to be just aces with dogs, adopts him. You worry that the old guy isn’t as good with dogs as he used to be, but with his track record who are you to question him? The old guy takes the dog out for a ride and he has to stop and get smokes at the store and he leaves the dog in the car, all the windows rolled up, and the old guy gets caught up in some conversations and listening to some songs on the radio and so he doesn’t even realize that the dog is still in the car, slowly suffocating, and by the time he gets back to the car his neglect has left that dog a dead lump in the backseat.
That’s Jersey Boys.
This jukebox musical has two built-in advantages - the pop classics of the Four Seasons and a rise and fall story that’s not like every other music biopic. The movie version has a couple of advantages too, including John Lloyd Young, who originated the role of Frankie Valli on Broadway, and Vincent Piazza as the likably degenerate goombah Tommy DeVito. But director Clint Eastwood takes these advantages and pisses them away in a movie that’s the definition of anonymous direction, from its opening pan down from a grey sky to a street filled with old cars to stock standard performance scenes that drain the energy of great songs like Dawn (Go Away).
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