Let’s call this a tale of two shows – The Bodyguard and Jersey Boys.  Last week, I saw touring companies of both shows during their stay in Los Angeles.  The Bodyguard is, of course, based on the Whitney Houston film of 1992.  Alas, the stage adaptation is short on dialogue – or plot.  The script seems structured to link together the 20 songs almost solely sung by the phenomenal Deborah Cox (two of the songs are sung by others).  Given the fact that she is virtually carrying the entire musical and doing six shows a week (no matinee Cox), it’s almost understandable that Deborah holds back somewhat.  However, I wouldn’t be overstating things to say that her performance had all the energy of a latter-day Sunny von Bulow.  Even with her abilities in check, one cannot deny that voice.  And certainly she dances better than Whitney.  But her comatosed performance in a show with major structural deficiencies made for a wholly unsatisfying evening.  While the major culprits are the writer and director, I was taken aback watching the musical director, Matthew Smedal, who looked bored stiff.  As they say, the fish stinks from the head.  But I should add two important points.  First, Cox and company let loose for the post-show mini-concert, which was almost worth the price of admission.  Second, practically every performance on the tour has been sold out, and audiences respond enthusiastically.

Then we have Jersey Boys, led by Mark Ballas from Dancing with the Stars.  Unlike The Bodyguard, Jersey Boys is a well-structured, well-written, and well-directed show.  Like The Bodyguard, the brunt of the vocal burden falls on the star – although he has able assistance by the rest of the Four Seasons.  To say Ballas is not much of a singer or actor would be an understatement.  His strain in trying to approximate Frankie Valli‘s unique sound is evident from the first note.  One wondered how he would get through the second act – let alone five shows a week (like Cox, Ballas doesn’t do matinees.  He also has something else to do Saturday nights).  Predictably, Ballas ran into trouble as the show went on – the second act was particularly grating.  Unlike Miss Cox, Ballas works hard – very hard.  He pushes what limited resources he has to extraordinary lengths.  While he is often painful to listen to, one can’t deny that he wants this – and wants it badly.  And, like The Bodyguard, the show is a crowd-pleaser.  And, on opening night, the real Frankie Valli came onstage to congratulate Ballas and company.

So it comes down to this – do you take the exceptionally talented person sleepwalking through an abysmal show?  Or do you opt for the lackluster but likable person who is killing himself to get through a better show?  In this case, I will give it to Jersey Boys by a hair.  But if someone gives Deborah Cox a Red Bull, I’d go back in a second.