What's That Smell: The Music of Jacob Sterling

Imagine an extremely good SNL skit (you’d definitely have to go back to at least the Molly Shannon years) about a second-rate musical theatre composer presenting excerpts from his very questionable songbook. That basically sums up What's That Smell: The Music of Jacob Sterling in a nutshell. There’s definitely some great material, with surprisingly tuneful music disguising some of the best bad lyrics ever written. But like almost every good SNL skit, it ultimately doesn’t go much further than surface parody. I found my thoughts wandering at about the 50-minute mark (the show runs a sleek 70-ish minutes). And although thoroughly entertaining and fun, ultimately it left me wanting something more than surface laughs.

I know plenty of you will say, “Fausto, you’re such a typical theatre queen snob. What’s wrong with a show that just entertains? Do I have to be bludgeoned like a baby seal with important ‘messages’ and ‘meaning’ every time I go to the theatre?” Well, no. But shows like Title of Show and even Nunsense all have something else to say about human nature and life and still happen to be wet-your-pants funny.

The show’s got plenty of laugh-out-loud moments, but if not for TDF, I’m not sure I would have paid full price to see the show. Part of the problem is that the best parody song is performed first, setting the audience up with extremely high expectations. None of the songs that follow quite measures up to the delicious “oh-no-she-didn’t” reaction that the first song elicits. I mean, how do you top a song called “He Died Inside Me” (no pun intended) written for the title character of a fictional musical adaptation of Private Benjamin? That’s pretty genius. The 9/11 section (though we are now years removed from the event) still made me squirm just a little. On paper, the premise sounds good - musical reminiscences of what people were doing when they heard the news. And the situation - a gal who is embarrassed to admit that on that fateful day she was getting breast enlargements - seems ripe for comedic development. But somehow the moment doesn’t quite hit the mark.

David Pittu embodies the over-the-top flamboyance of the title character. He’s self-assured, yet completely ignorant of how ludicrous most of his ideas are. He truly believes he’s the next Sondheim. Luckily for audiences everywhere, his every near brush with success is thankfully thwarted by ever more outrageous circumstances. His complete ignorance about his limited talent immediately endears us to him.

Peter Bartlett plays loveable Leonard Swagg, the host of Leonard Swagg’s CLOT (Composers and Lyricists of Tomorrow). Swagg is the apparent love child of James Lipton and Nathan Lane accept that Bartlett imbues him with a warmth and wide-eyed adoration of his guest that Lipton and Lane could never duplicate.

Unfortunately, loveable characters can’t sustain the entire evening. The one joke conceit, though original and extremely funny at times, simply can’t sustain an entire evening. Cheap tickets are available, so I would recommend it if you aren’t paying full price.

Semi-celebrity sighting: Marc Shaiman, composer of Hairspray sitting two rows behind us.