
There are shows you see once and check off the list. Then there are shows that keep pulling you back, year after year, like some sort of particularly catchy musical siren song. For me, Jersey Boys is definitely the latter. Now onstage at TPAC‘s Jackson Hall thru Sunday, September 20 as the 20th Anniversary National Tour continues, attending the show’s second night in Music City marks the sixth time in 20 years I’ve seen it—and my third time seeing it at Tennessee Performing Arts Center. So, yes, I know when the songs are coming, I know where the laughs are, I know where the story is going…and I still found myself completely caught up in the ride.
That may be the greatest compliment I can give Jersey Boys: after six times, it still works. Officially kicking off just last week in Syracuse, this national tour arrives with an interesting distinction. While the 20th Anniversary Tour is a non-Equity production, the creative forces behind the original phenomenon remain very much in charge. Des McAnuff, the show’s original director, is back at the helm, while Sergio Trujillo, whose original choreography helped define the production, returns with his original choreography. I mention the non-equity status because a non-equity tour can, occasionally, be scaled-down considerably from a show’s Broadway run. Perhaps, because this tour has been so hands-on with the full cooperation of the original creative forces, this incarnation doesn’t feel like any expenses were spared, no corners were cut and no holds barred for this landmark anniversary tour. For the show’s two and a half hour runtime, I’m confident that the entire audience at TPAC would tell the cast our eyes and ears adored them!
This isn’t just another jukebox musical. This is a show with some serious hardware in its trophy case: the Tony Award for Best Musical, the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Musical and the Grammy Award for Best Musical Show Album. Twenty years after its Broadway debut, it doesn’t take long to see why.
The genius of Jersey Boys has always been its storytelling structure. The show cheekily divides itself into Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter, giving a knowing wink to the name of the group while providing four distinct chapters in the lives of The Four Seasons.
Spring gives us the genesis—the young men, the dreams and the unlikely beginnings. Summer is the rocket ride, as the group discovers fame, fortune and what happens when those little songs they’ve been working on suddenly become enormous hits. Fall brings the cracks in the foundation: personal conflicts, financial problems, uncertainty and the realization that success can be every bit as complicated as failure. Then comes Winter, with its reflection, loss and the ultimate accolade: The Four Seasons’ 1990 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Not bad for some kids from Jersey.
The cleverness of that four-season structure isn’t merely branding. It gives the show a natural dramatic progression while providing one of those delightful little theatrical winks that Jersey Boys is so good at delivering.
Of course, you can’t talk about Jersey Boys without talking about the music. And in the vernacular of the Jersey Boys, holy f’in jukebox, is there a lot of it. The production packs more than 30 songs, and this cast nails the vocal demands with the kind of precision that makes The Four Seasons’ famously distinctive sound seem effortless.
The Four Seasons’ musical catalog is so deep—they had 40 songs land on the Billboard Top 40—that there simply isn’t enough room in one musical to accommodate all those hits. The Playbill acknowledges that problem in particularly delightful fashion, with a footnote titled “The Ones That Got Away,” recognizing more than a dozen additional Four Seasons and Frankie Valli bangers that didn’t make the final cut.
But it’s not simply the quantity of the songs that makes this production sing. It’s the quality of the vocals. Audiences arrive knowing exactly how these songs are supposed to sound, from Valli’s unmistakable falsetto to those intricate Four Seasons harmonies.
This cast understands that assignment.
As Frankie Valli, Coby Oram delivers the vocal precision you’d expect from a performer stepping into one of pop music’s most distinctive voices, but there’s also a strong emotional dimension beneath the falsetto. Valli isn’t simply the guy who sings the really high notes; we’re watching a young man grow into the person who ultimately has to carry the group forward. Oram is equally adept at hitting the high notes as he is knocking it out of the park during the show’s more tense relationship moments whether exploring his fractured family dynamic or the never-ending allegiance to his fellow hitmakers.
Peyton Schoenhofer brings youthful energy and confidence to Bob Gaudio, the songwriter whose creative contributions helped fuel the group’s remarkable run. His Gaudio possesses just the right combination of ambition, talent and youthful uncertainty. Schoenhofer exemplifies a great balance of Gaudio’s seemingly more sheltered upbringing–compared to the a couple of the other boys, who racked up police records before platinum ones–with an unexpected business savvy that would be a key element in his relationship with Valli.
Harry Sperduto makes Tommy DeVito an entertainingly combustible force, bringing plenty of swagger and humor to a character whose ambitions ultimately come with a steep price. Tommy can be charming, funny, infuriating and reckless—and Sperduto keeps all of those qualities in play without reducing DeVito to a cartoon gangster. You know he’s good when, time after time of screwing over his bandmates, the audience still feels for him and cheers both his misdeeds and his achievements.
Owen McCredie gives Nick Massi the quietest member of the quartet a genuine presence, allowing us to understand the man beneath that reserved exterior. There’s a dry wit and simmering frustration beneath Nick’s reserved exterior, and McCreedie lets those qualities emerge naturally, making Nick’s eventual departure from the group on of the evening’s more effective moments. McCredie doesn’t let get lost amid all those bigger personalities, he crafts a careful, thoughtful presence. While Valli’s falsetto might have made him the bigger star, McCredie’s booming bass voice as Massi is swoon worthy.
Together, the four are a cohesive, convincing unit—and that’s crucial. The Four Seasons weren’t four soloists who happened to stand next to each other. Their magic was in the blend. This cast gets it.
While the primary focus is of course on the aforementioned quartet, one of the strengths of this production is that Jersey Boys doesn’t treat its four principals as the only people worth watching. Andrew Sattler makes an especially memorable impression as Bob Crewe, bringing a larger-than-life theatricality to the eccentric producer and lyricist who becomes such an important part of the group’s story.
Nicholas Dion Reese gets the evening off to an energetic start with an updated, internationally flavored take on “Ces soirées-là,” better known stateside as “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night!),” The Four Seasons’ final No. 1 hit from 1975. It’s an attention-grabbing opening that immediately announces that this isn’t going to be a sleepy trip through an oldies playlist.
Among the female members of the ensemble, Eliza Levy makes an impression as Mary Delgado and others, helping bring the women surrounding these four men into sharper focus rather than allowing them to become mere scenery in the boys’ story. While she’s initially written as a stereotypical Jersey girl, Delgado doesn’t rest on that, bringing dimension to what could easily be a throw-away role. Her vocals on the late Act 1 tune “My Eyes Adored You” in an adroit call and response opposite Oram’s Frankie, reveal a welcomed depth to not only her portrayal, but the classic song itself.
Another highlight in the supporting cast comes in Sarah Coleman‘s turn as Francine Valli particularly as the story begins exploring the one of the show’s more somber elements revealing the personal costs of Frankie Valli’s extraordinary career. It’s a relatively small role with only a couple of minutes on stage, but it’s one of the show’s most impactful. Coleman, like many of the supporting players appears throughout in a multitude of other roles, but it’s her brief time on stage as Valli’s daughter that stays with the audience.
And then there’s Joe Pesci. Yes, THAT Joe Pesci, as the script cheekily reminds us. The real Pesci was friends with the young Four Seasons, and his connection to the group is one of those almost-too-good-to-be-true details from their early history. Here, the role gets an especially fun Nashville twist thanks to Grant Weathington, a 2025 Belmont University graduate. For those in the TPAC audience who know that little bit of local trivia, it’s one more reason to enjoy the character when he pops up.
Speaking of Nashville, the Music City connection doesn’t stop there. One of the original members and creative forces behind The Four Seasons, Bob Gaudio, has been a Nashville resident since the 1990s. So when the show reaches its later “where are they now?” passage and mentions that Gaudio now spends his days on his boat in Nashville, the response from the TPAC audience was noticeably more enthusiastic than your average biographical footnote. There was definitely a little “That’s OUR Bob!” energy in the room. It’s a small moment, but it’s one of those details that makes seeing a touring production in its proper local context so much fun.
The remarkable thing about Jersey Boys after two decades (six decades if you count The Four Seasons’ real-life history) isn’t simply that the songs remain popular. It’s that the story still works. The musical understands that success stories are rarely as simple as the finished record. Behind every No. 1 hit are relationships, egos, debts, bad decisions, sacrifices, arguments and people trying to figure out what comes next.
That’s what keeps Jersey Boys from becoming nothing more than a jukebox with a plot. The music may be the sugar, but the complicated relationships are the substance. And the 20th Anniversary Tour gives audiences the best of both worlds: a production rooted in the staging that originally made the musical a Tony-, Olivier- and Grammy-winning phenomenon, now performed by a fresh cast with its own chemistry and energy.
Twenty years after Jersey Boys first took Broadway by storm, this new generation of Four Seasons proves that the songs still soar, the story still resonates and there are apparently still plenty of audiences willing to sing along. After six trips alongside The Four Seasons myself, I’m apparently still not ready to say goodbye. And really…why would I? Four seasons. More than 30 songs. Forty Top 40 hits. Twenty years. as one of modern theatre’s most beloved musical.Oh, what a night!
Catch the 20th Anniversary National Tour at Nashville’s TPAC September 16-20. CLICK HERE to purchase tickets or for more information. Following Jersey Boys TPAC’s 2026/2027 Season continues with The Sound of Music onstage October 13-18. Follow TPAC on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube and Facebook.
Not in Nashville? It’s likely Jersey Boys will be working their way back to you, so check them out on Facebook, X, Insta, TikTok, YouTube and Threads to see when it rolls into your city and find out why, two decades later, Jersey Boys remains one of Broadway’s most irresistible musical stories.
As always, if you wanna follow JHPEntertainment to find out who I’m chatting with for my next Rapid Fire Q&A, or for my take on the latest local and national theatre, music, arts and more, visit JHPENTERTAINMENT.com or find us on Facebook, Insta, Threads and X. Till then #GoSeeTheShow!

Electronika, who, in recent years has appeared in pretty much every drag-related production at Playhouse 615, proves effective as Angela Arden Sussman. Having been a fan favorite amongst Nashville’s drag community for nearly a quarter of a century (she knows I love her, it just reads cattier that way) whether she’s reading to kiddies at drag story hour–literacy…it’s SO controversial–hosting a charity event, lobbying for LGBTQIA+ rights, performing a drag show or appearing in a theatrical production, you know you’re gonna get a bit of the diva that is Veronika Electronika, especially if that’s how she’s credited in the playbill. Such is the case with Veronika as Angela. She’s larger than life, self-indulging, wickedly self-important, and thanks to Veronika’s own wardrobe doubling for Angela’s, dressed to the mother-fuckin’ nines–or at least sixes, because that’s how many wardrobe changes I counted, not including at least two outer layer discardings revealing more fashion underneath–while chewing on every inch of that decadent scenery. Yes, per Busch’s script you’ll find aspects of many a great diva including, but not limited to Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, and even Mama Rose, but make no mistake about it, it’s Music City diva Veronika Electronika who’s most present in this portrayal of Angela Arden Sussman.






RAPID FIRE WITH AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’’s ISIAH RANKIN
RAPID FIRE WITH AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’’s YOLANDA TREECE. 
RAPID FIRE WITH AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’’s RAVEN BUNTYN


At the center of the production is Zachary Keller as Jacob Jankowski, the grieving veterinary student who impulsively abandons his former life and jumps aboard the Benzini train. Keller anchors the production with a grounded sincerity and a soaring vocal performance that gives emotional weight to Jacob’s internal struggle between safety and risk, logic and passion. His voice carries a warm ache throughout the evening, particularly in moments when Jacob wrestles with the moral compromises surrounding the circus and his growing connection to Marlena. There are moments within Keller’s performance that the entire audience falls in love with his Jacob. Heck, there are moments his near-perfect pitch vocals fill the venue so melodically that you even wonder if he needs a mic. A true testament to his skills and those of the show’s sound designer Walter Trarbach and the entire technical team.
Opposite Keller (and Tully), Helen Krushinski delivers a luminous performance as Marlena, the circus star trapped inside an increasingly dangerous marriage. Krushinski possesses the kind of voice that cuts cleanly through the orchestrations without ever losing emotional nuance. She brings both fragility and fierce determination to Marlena, avoiding cliché and instead presenting a woman desperately searching for dignity and freedom amid chaos. Like so many of her ensemble cast mates, Krushinski also demonstrates a bit of impressive arial skills, adding a literal and figurative extra layer to her performance.
And yes — the aerial and acrobatic work is extraordinary. This production understands that circus artistry should not simply interrupt the narrative; it should become the narrative. Silks, balancing acts, lifts, and gravity-defying choreography emerge organically from the emotional life of the story. The transitions feel seamless rather than showy for the sake of applause. From the jump, as the circus ‘crew’ is setting up shop at their latest stop, even the pounding of the tent-stakes into the ground and the raising of the tent becomes a cadenced ballet of movement, acrobatics and mind-boggling balance and strength. This elegance of motion and bodily discipline becomes another character throughout.
Particular praise belongs to Yves Artières, whose physical performance as Silver Star, Marlena’s beloved show horse, becomes one of the evening’s unexpected emotional centerpieces. Through movement alone, Artières creates personality, loyalty, exhaustion, and tenderness in a way that feels almost impossibly expressive. In a key scene when Silver Star reaches his untimely end, the visual of his spirit leaving his body, by way of Artières ascending silks hanging from the rafters above the stage, then dramatically unfurling the silks as he descends to return to the earth–simply breathtakingly beautiful. The puppetry/animal work throughout the production is remarkably inventive, but Silver Star’s presence lingers long after curtain call.
The lighting design deserves enormous credit for shaping the show’s emotional landscape. Warm ambers, smoky blues, and stark silhouettes constantly shift the atmosphere from romance to danger to wonder. Combined with a richly textured sound design that captures both the intimacy of whispered confessions and the thunder of circus chaos, the technical package immerses the audience completely without ever feeling excessive.

Opposite him, Grammy nominee Mykal Kilgore delivers a mesmerizing Judas. From the opening notes of “Heaven on Their Minds,” Kilgore refuses to portray Judas as a simple villain. Instead, his Judas feels conflicted, frightened, frustrated, and heartbreakingly human as he watches events spiral beyond anyone’s control. His powerhouse vocals soar effortlessly through the score, but it is the emotional vulnerability beneath the performance that lingers longest.
As Mary Magdalene, powerhouse vocalist Olivia Valli comes by her talents naturally. Granddaughter of The Four Season‘s founding member Fankie Valli, she’s a legacy entertainer. As Mary Magdalene, Valli brings warmth and aching sincerity to the role. Early on During “Everything’s Alright,” Valli’s calming presence provides a needed emotional balance amid the increasingly chaotic atmosphere surrounding Jesus. Soon after, her rendition of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” avoids unnecessary theatrics in favor of emotional honesty, allowing the heartbreak within the song to quietly unfold. Under Cassidy’s direction, Valli explores the often-avoided attraction between Mary the woman and Jesus the man, once again offering yet another layer to the humanity of the piece.
As Pontius Pilate, Geoffrey Davin offers one of the evening’s smartest tonal shifts . Presented as a gaudy, self-important joke of a man sporting an intentionally terrible hairpiece (kudos to the show’s wig designer Meredith Schieltz for just simply going for it), Davin leans fully into the absurdity of performative power. The portrayal initially earns plenty of laughs, but underneath the comedy lies another sharp reflection of the production’s larger themes—people desperate to appear more important than they truly are. His “Pilate’s Dream” balances nervous humor with growing dread, while sinisterly daunting presence during “Trial Before Pilate/39 Lashes” becomes genuinely unsettling.
W. Scott Stewart’s thunderous bass vocals as Caiaphas roll in like a deep fog, brilliantly setting the stage for the dread and darkness to come. Robert Parker Jenkins‘ Annas perfectly snarky glances peering over those disturbingly small, dark glasses, brings an unspoken self-righteousness to his role as a high priest. As other members of Caiaphas’ doom squad, Garris Wimmer‘s sinister voice and Jennifer Whitcomb-Oliva‘s snide presence all come together perfectly to present a united and terrifying quartet who initiate the plot to end Jesus.
Then there’s the most intriguing of Whitcomb-Oliva’s multiple roles, her dazzlingly, gloriously commanding presence as King Herod. Landing somewhere firmly between Tina Turner’s Auntie Entity from Mad Max: Beyond the Thunderdome and Elton John’s Pinball Wizard from yet another rock opera, Tommy, Whitcomb-Oliva’s Herod is the true definition of the villainous character we know we’re not supposed to love, but we just can’t help ourselves. Combine the stage presence and spectacular wardrobe with Whitcomb-Oliva’s undeniable talents and you’ve got yourself a show-stopping performance and another of Studio Tenn‘s Jesus Christ Superstar‘s truly magical cast members. There is no role this mega-watt talented performer can’t handle and she proves it show after show after show.
Other ensemble members like Bakari King, Garris Wimmer, Maya Antoinette Riley, Matthew Hayes Hunter, Savannah Stein, Lane Adam Williamson, Victoria Griffin, Emma Rose Williamson, Connor Adair, Nikki Berra, Christina Ledbetter and Patrick Jones each contribute to the overall energy, emotion and beauty of the piece. From the full ensemble Act 1 favorite, “What’s the Buzz’ to a shining, glittering all-in late-hour moment, the entire cast brings everything they’ve got, resulting in a feast for the eyes, the mind, the heart and soul.
Likewise, Joi Ware’s choreography injects continuous movement and urgency into the production. There are moments where subtle Bob Fosse-inspired isolations seem to collide with flashes of Michael Jackson-inspired movement during larger ensemble sequences, creating choreography that feels simultaneously nostalgic and contemporary. Even those ensemble moments reinforce the power-in-numbers juxtaposed to the isolation of one theme found throughout the piece. Coupled with Cassidy’s direction, Ware’s choreography fills the stage with passionate movement, whether the entire company is on stage for a group number, or the action slows for a solitary moment from Pascal, Kilgore or Valli.
Leading this beautifully doomed endeavor is Joshua Mertz as Chris, the director/star/producer/everything-else of the show-within-the-show. Mertz plays Chris with just the right mix of puffed-up authority and slow-burn panic. As The Inspector within the mystery, watching him try to maintain control as things unravel faster than a cheap sweater is half the fun—and when he finally snaps, it’s worth the wait. Mertz, in his sixth show at The Keeton is proving himself to be a valuable asset the the company.
Aaron Gray’s Robert is the kind of community theatre actor who clearly believes he’s performing in Masterpiece Theatre, even as the world collapses around him. The fact that Gray is in or involved with nearly every Keeton production somehow added a if you know you know aspect to his role as Robert. As Thomas Collymoore, his dead-serious commitment in the face of utter nonsense makes every moment land harder, especially as the physical comedy ramps up and refuses to let him off easy. Kudos to his library scene. While the Keeton stage area does limit the intensity of the prospect of the second floor of the set completely collapsing, Gray’s physicality while keeping himself and all the props around his from falling away as the floor beneath him gives way, is gasping, belly-laughing joy to behold.
Keeton newcomer, Connor Boggs is tasked with the key role of Max. Initially cast in another role, Boggs stepped into the role of Max after the original actor had to drop out of the show. As Max and his mystery counterpart, Cecil, he figures out very early on that subtlety is overrated. Within the supposed seriousness of the murder mystery, for Cecil, once he gets a taste of audience laughter, it’s game over. He milks every moment for all it’s worth, turning even the smallest slip into a full-blown bit. That said, dressed in wardrobe that can only be described as a technicolor travesty—yes, the character is typically a bit of a dandy, but not quite so…flamboyant. Usually played as an overly confident community theatre actor with at least an initial modicum of subtlety, Bogg’s Cecil starts at 100mph and never slows down doing everything short of cartwheels from his stage entrance right on through to the final curtain. Under the direction of Bailey, Bogg’s Cecil is amped up and definitely played for laughs so much so that it runs the risk on a SNL skit that just doesn’t know when to
demanding physical comedy without ever dropping character. In one scene in particular, she’s pulled and flopped around by her cast mates as if her joins are made of bendy straws. Her physicality is slapstick at its best.
Wanderson Rezende’s Trevor Watson, stationed at the tech booth, proves that sometimes less is more. His distracted, couldn’t-care-less approach to running the show results in some of the night’s most perfectly timed “mistakes,” and when he’s finally dragged into the action, it’s awkward brilliance. And yes, Denese Rene’ Evans (the show’s costumer) I did indeed appreciate that Trevor is sporting a Duran Duran t-shirt!
name, by the way), tasked with playing a corpse who…isn’t exactly great at the whole “lying still” thing. Fonville’s physical comedy—mistimed reactions, missed cues, and all—adds an extra layer of delightful absurdity to a role that could just be…well, dead.
Bottom line, if you like your theatre polished, pristine, and predictable…this ain’t it. But if you’re in the mood to laugh until your face hurts while watching a cast absolutely commit to the bit—even as the set tries to take them out—The Play That Goes Wrong at The Keeton is exactly the kind of beautifully disastrous night out you’re looking for. Just don’t expect anything to go right, because…Where’s the fun in that?
One notable change is the role of Sweet Sue, bandleader of the all-girl band that serves as the perfect hiding in plain site destination for our two unintentional leading men, or should I say leading ladies? Little more than a brief appearance in the source material, Ruffin and Lopez wisely fleshed out Sweet Sue and as played by DeQuina Moore, we’re glad they did. Moore’s Sweet Sue doesn’t just open the show—she detonates it. Her “What Are You Thirsty For?” lands with the kind of electrifying force she herself described in our recent 
Leandra Ellis-Gaston’s Sugar Kane arguably comes with the steepest climb. Not because of the technical demands—though those are certainly present—but because Marilyn Monroe’s original Sugar remains so indelibly iconic. Wisely, the creators of the stage adaptation “understood the assignment,” sidestepping imitation entirely. By reimagining Sugar as a strong-willed, career-driven woman of color, the role becomes instantly unshackled from direct comparison—and Ellis-Gaston runs with it. With a speaking voice that lands somewhere between The Color Purple’s Squeak and legendary chanteuse Lena Horne, her Sugar is equal parts vulnerability and resolve. Sweet? Absolutely. But never simple.
As G-man Mulligan, Matt Allen plays the essential “straight man” with surgical precision, anchoring the show’s more outlandish antics while quietly setting up some of its biggest payoffs. As he said in our recent Rapid Fire 20Q, that role is not only necessary but foundational in launching the show’s farcical momentum. And when he finally gets to dip into the madness—particularly in that delightfully ridiculous undercover sequence—it’s a payoff worth the wait.
Minnie, Sweet Sue’s right-hand woman is revealed throughout as a bit of a sticky-fingered gal. One of the show’s running gags is her revelations of accidentally entering the wrong apartments thinking they were Sue’s and taking things that weren’t hers. To that end it makes perfect sense that Devon Hadsell’s Minnie is a scene-stealing delight, leaning fully into the character’s charming chaos and absconding with laughs each time she’s on the stage. There’s a lived-in sense of loyalty and mischief here, making Minnie far more than just comic relief. She’s an essential part of the heartbeat of the band. And that ever-present cigarette dangling from her ruby red lips, the kind of subtle sight gag that again perfectly pays homage to that 1930 prohibition-era Hollywood spirit. Side Note: When that Gregg Oppenheimer I Love Lucy play makes its way to Broadway, Hadsell has my vote for the Vivian Vance/Ethel Mertz role!
And then there’s Edward Juvier’s Osgood, who may just be the show’s most quietly radical reinvention. As he shared in our recent Rapid Fire 20Q, what drew him to the role was Osgood’s ability to lead with curiosity rather than judgment—and that ethos radiates throughout his performance. Where the film played him as the punchline, this version is in on the joke and, more importantly, in on the love. That shift—from caricature to fully realized romantic—becomes one of the production’s most meaningful evolutions.






RAPID FIRE 20Q WITH OFF BROADWAY: THAT’s SO HIGH SCHOOL‘s ELLE MCLEMORE



RAPID FIRE Q&A WITH MEOW MEOW; AT OZ ARTS NASHVILLE APRIL 11
MEOW MEOW: SO many. I have to love all of them or I can’t sing them ! I love Patty Griffin’s poetry in her songs – one of my favourites that is like a prayer
JHP ENTERTAINMENT: Looking back on the 2007 High Line Festival, curated by David Bowie—where you took your place among fellow featured artists Arcade Fire, Laurie Anderson, Ricky Gervaiis, The Legendary Stardust Cowboy and more—sounds almost surreal—How did you feel in that moment?
JHP ENTERTAINMENT: On the subject of unpredictability—How do you handle it when an audience “volunteer” just isn’t matching the vibe?