Here’s what a $150 orchestra seat gets you at “Motown: The Musical”: bargain-basement sets, basic choreography performed merely adequately, and laughable dialogue.
But then there are the songs: thrilling, unimpeachable, familiar yet still completely fresh. They fill the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre in a huge, giddy rush — and number a whopping 59, though most are shortened.
The plot is equally wide-ranging: This may well be the first bio-musical about a company, covering the record label’s first 25 years, up to 1983.
You can understand book writer Berry Gordy for not wanting to leave anything out — after all, he himself founded Motown and steered it through a golden age of soul and R&B. (Younger readers probably know Gordy better as the dad of Redfoo from LMFAO.)
Here he’s portrayed by Brandon Victor Dixon as a passionate fan with a double mission: to bring the music he loved into every home and to make African-Americans proud.
Gordy addresses those goals in some of the new songs he co-wrote for the show. “Hey, Joe (Black Like Me)” describes young Berry’s discovery of racial pride after Joe Louis’ historic 1938 victory, while “It’s What’s in the Grooves That Counts” confirms his open-armed approach: “For me, there is no black or white,” he sings.
Like another great American achievement, the Model T car, Motown’s music was made in Detroit as if on an assembly line, the better to deliver perfectly polished product.
But unlike Motown records, Charles Randolph Wright’s production is rough around the edges. Daniel Brodie’s projections often look fuzzy and out of focus. Choreographers Patricia Wilcox and Warren Adams’ ensemble numbers are lax; the Temptations and the Four Tops’ coordinated moves lack the necessary silky smoothness.
The show fares best with the music, which is usually spot-on. The engaging actors work hard to overcome the constraints of imitation. Despite being onstage for just a few minutes, the electrifying N’Kenge (Mary Wells) and Eric LaJuan Summers (as Jackie Wilson, Contours singer Billy Gordon and Rick James) make lasting impressions.
All are bolstered by Peter Hylenski’s excellent sound design, a rarity on Broadway. Loud but crisp, it’s a perfect match for the large orchestra’s explosive brass and driving rhythms.
Some of the label’s less savory moments are mentioned in passing: the songwriting team Holland-Dozier-Holland suing for missing royalties, Gordy pushing Florence Ballard out of the Supremes to guarantee Diana Ross’ reign as leader.
Ross actually dominates the second act, and she’s hilariously played by Valisia LeKae as a meek “who me?” naif who just loved Berry and wanted to sing. Several of her scenes flirt with unintentional camp worthy of Gordy’s cult 1975 movie “Mahogany,” as when Ross launches into “I Hear a Symphony” after her mogul lover has a bedroom failure.
Like this show’s audience, she should just have closed her eyes and thought of Detroit.