Roughly an hour or so into Black Ensemble Theater’s musical bio revue “Sammy: A Tribute to Sammy Davis Jr.,” one of the show’s many narrators talks about the 1954 car accident that almost took the entertainer’s life. The horrific event is summed up in a sentence: “Not only was the car totaled, but Sammy was critically injured.” The moment is indicative of the primary problem in writer/director Daryl D. Brooks’ production: The script is rife with anecdotes, reducing Davis’ fascinating life story to a series of encyclopedia entries.
‘Sammy – A Tribute to Sammy Davis Jr.’ Somewhat Recommended When: Through Jan. 21 Where: Black Ensemble Theater, 4450 N. Clark Tickets: $55-$65 Info: blackensemble.org
As a revue that highlights some of Davis’ greatest hits, the production works intermittently well. There are several numbers delivered with great feeling and vocal aplomb, worthy tributes to the man and his music.
Still, “Sammy” is a mixed bag. Faulty acoustics and a few less-than stellar vocals are a problematic. And while the show isn’t trying to be a deep dive into the life of Davis, it is nonetheless frustratingly shallow. As a Civil Rights crusader, Davis’ feats are legion. “Sammy” makes the latter especially seem no more than a matter of Sammy raising his voice at a racist hotel clerk.
The script is also marred by intermittent fourth-wall breaking repartee among the cast members. At one point, for instance, the women of the cast tell the men to step aside – it’s time for the ladies to sing. Rather than playful and spontaneous, the moment feels forced and awkward. Ditto the affected banter between Davis, Frank Sinatra (Nathan Cooper) and Dean Martin (Mark Yacullo). All of these characters are little more than finger-snapping, cocktail-sipping cutouts.
Under music director Robert Reddrick (who leads the on-stage band), the vocals are sometimes muddied in both volume and pitch. When actor Michael Adkins launches into hits such as “That Old Black Magic,” he’s overpowered by the seven-piece ensemble perched above the stage, his lower register almost completely drowned out.
There are exceptions: Ensemble member Kenny Davis (who, along with Adkins, is the main singer in the revue) fares better with “What Kind of Fool Am I” and “I’ve Got to Be Me,” imbuing the latter with soaring power and might and the former with belting angst. Rhonda Preston puts plenty of sauce and sass in “Begin the Beguine,” and the cast does a fine job with the finale, “Mr. Bojangles.” But quintessential Davis hits such as “Candy Man” and “I’m Gonna Live ‘Till I Die” have little of the magic that put them on the top of the charts.
Blessed with smart choreography by Rueben D. Echoles, the ensemble does better paying tribute to Davis’ talent as a prodigiously gifted hoofer. They don’t have the white-hot dazzle of Davis’ legendary footwork (nobody does), but they sell it with a collective charisma that beams off the stage.
The life of Davis, the consummate entertainer, was packed with heroism, tragedy, drama and adventure as well as a string of timeless hits. You get a mere glimpse of it in “Sammy.”
Catey Sullivan is a local freelance writer.
