"Buddy" rocks the Broadway Palm
THEATRE REVIEW
BY NANCY _STETSON Florida Weekly Correspondent

COURTESY PHOTO Todd Meredith as 50s rocker Buddy Holly

Buddy Holly, that geeky, scrawny kid from Lubbock, Texas, was one of the early pioneers of rock 'n' roll. With his trademark oversized black-rimmed glasses and his hiccupping way of singing, he appealed to teens everywhere, with 10 hits in 15 months.

Holly influenced others who followed, including the Beatles, who named themselves in a tongue-in-cheek tribute to his back-up group, the Crickets. He wrote songs such as "Maybe Baby," "Not Fade Away," "Everyday," "Peggy Sue" and "That'll Be the Day," all now classics.

"Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story" focuses on his short musical history, from the time he gets a recording contract to his premature death in a plane crash on Feb. 3, 1959. The show, playing at the Broadway Palm Dinner Theatre through Nov. 17, isn't only about Buddy Holly, but is a love letter to rock 'n' roll as well.

Written by Alan Janes and Rob Bettinson, it follows Holly from a performance on a country radio show in Lubbock to the last concert he gave at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. The action's all cleverly set in radio stations, recording studios, theaters and backstage - all places musicians would naturally be. (One scene takes place in Buddy's bedroom, where he's practicing with his band, and another outside a recording studio.)

Unfortunately, Todd Meredith, as Holly, isn't stellar in the role, though the audience loved him. Perhaps he was having an off night, or maybe he's been in the role too long. (He's played the lead before for another theater.) But I just couldn't warm to him as Buddy Holly. This buff actor didn't look like someone who'd have a mother constantly calling to remind him to eat (a running joke throughout the show). Another character also tells him, at one point, "You've got as much sex appeal as a telephone pole." But this actor is neither scrawny nor gawky. He's leading-man handsome.

He and the Crickets never jell musically. Meredith lacks Holly's jittery energy, and doesn't imitate Holly's unique hiccupping style of singing. It's frustrating listening to them, as the band as a whole never really explodes with sound. Early rock was raw and subversive, but the sound this trio produces is pretty tame. And even when the bassist, in a supposedly daredevil display of wildness, stands on his bass, he's tentative and looks as if he's scared he'll fall.

But the rest of the cast is filled with terrific actors. Tim Reilly is spot-on as Hipockets Duncan, a Texas DJ. He's a colorful character, but Reilly makes him believable, not a caricature. Chuck Caruso shines as The Big Bopper. Squeezed into a leopard print jacket, Caruso milks "Chantilly Lace" for all it's worth, dancing and wiggling during his turn in the spotlight. It's a song most audience members know even better than their own phone number, and Caruso is true to the original, sputtering "Will I whaaaaat?" and finally, acquiescing, rumbling on "Oh girl, you KNOW what I like!"

Jayar Garcia sounds nothing like Ritchie Valens, but his twitching and swiveling hips helps distract audience members from his singing.

It's the misnamed "minor characters" who make the show what it is. Dana Iannuzzi livens up the show as Maria Elena, the girl whom Holly winds up marrying.

The three Apollo Theatre singers (Aurianna Angelique, Kanova Johnson and Melanie Spangler) steal the show with their Supremes-like three-part harmonies on "Goodtime" and the gospel-tinged "Sweet Love." (Where is this energy when Holly and the Crickets are performing?)

Even a couple of throwaway scenes (female singers performing a "Wash Day Blues" radio jingle in perfect harmony, or four male DJs from around the country pitching Holly's first hit) have more zest and are unexpected pleasures.

The show culminates in a series of songs played at the Clear Lake Winter Dance Party -- the last show for Holly, Valens and the Big Bopper. Holly gets the theater audience up and dancing by telling them to stand up; cast members come off-stage to dance with game theatergoers. It's at that point that the show finally takes off and starts to approach the energy it should've possessed from the very beginning.

It's hard to tell how much of this is Rob Watson's direction. He's obviously told the performers to play it broad, and at times it's like someone elbowing you in the ribs and saying, (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) "Get it?" The audience also has to sit through in the dark at the beginning of the show for a verse of Don McLean's "American Pie," which drags down the tempo of the show.

Set design of Kristian Perry incorporates oversized 45s and a jukebox with recording studio sets that slide in from the wings. Jim Conti's costume design ranges from rolled up blue jeans and simple white T's to glamorous tomato-red full-length gowns with matching evening gloves.

And the show wouldn't be half as good as it is without the Clear Lake Orchestra, which accompanies the singer for the ninesong marathon at the end. With two pianos, a four-man horn section, bass, drums and guitar, it really punches up the sound and ratchets up the energy.

"Finally," you think. "THIS is what rock 'n' roll sounds like."

And in a flash, 50 years fall away, and the senior audience is once again teenagers, dancing at the sock hop of their memories.