Many musicals about real life people tend to follow a specific formula: they set their plot in an intimate setting the likes of which the real life artist would have performed in, they build a setlist comprised of their greatest hits and then they add spoken interludes during which the actor playing the performer sheds new light on dark aspects of his or her life. It’s a formula that guarantees two things: that fans of the artist will really enjoy themselves listening to the music, and that the spoken parts might prove problematic because they pull you away from the time-travel sensation of the show.
In Mighty Real: A Fabulous Sylvester Musical, the extremely talented Anthony Wayne (who also co-directed, produced and wrote the show) plays the so-called “Queen of Disco” Sylvester, who rose to prominence in the 1970’s with songs like “Do You Wanna Funk?” and “Can’t Stop Dancing”. Like many tragic figures of this era of American decadence, Sylvester died of AIDS complications at the age of 41. In Mr. Wayne’s musical, Sylvester comes back to the grave to tell us his story, and we track his evolution from being an eccentric little kid who danced to Labelle and Aretha Franklin, to becoming a fur-coat wearing diva, who snapped and barked at those who dared tried to kill his groove.
Wayne gives a magnetic performance, interacting beautifully with his backup singers, band and audience, while bringing a sense of depth to the otherwise enigmatic figure. When he sings, it’s impossible to keep from moving. His rhythm is infectious, his dancing hypnotic and his falsetto almost heavenly. The problems come when he stops singing, and the show tries to cover way too much. While the didacticism of the chronology of his life is admirable (after all he was a true icon for many minorities: gay men, African Americans and people living with HIV), it damages the show’s energy. Perhaps if the script had concentrated on a specific time during his life, the show might’ve felt more powerful, more touching. As it stands, it’s undeniably full of life, but sometimes it lacks the soul.
