Bristol Riverside Theatre presents Jelly’s Last Jam

BRT’s Jelly’s Last Jam, with a book by George C. Wolfe, lyrics by Susan Birkenhead, and music by Jelly Roll Morton and Luther Henderson, is another worthwhile ticket. The show boasts well-choreographed, tightly staged, crowd-pleasing numbers throughout, but it’s the second act that truly lived up to my expectations.

Black entertainment history

When I was a kid, my mother emphasized the importance of attending and supporting Black theater, especially Black Broadway. When we couldn’t travel to New York, we attended tours or watched film adaptations: A Soldier’s Play and Dreamgirls (1981), Tap Dance Kid (1983), and Sarafina and Fences (1987) were seminal to my childhood. For my mother, representation mattered. I enjoyed portrayals of cultural issues in Black entertainment like colorism, which Spike Lee’s iconic School Daze (1988) smartly encapsulated.

Wolfe's 1992 jukebox musical on the life of Jelly Roll Morton is clearly a product of its time. Jelly's Last Jam spoke to issues prevalent in the Black community at that period, including demanding acknowledgement of Black creatives who contributed to American culture while also portraying how social racism replicated within the community through colorism, or discrimination based upon skin tone.

Burning up the stage

At the reviewed performance, the cast seemed to be holding back a bit in the first act, and it was unclear if they were conserving energy, still getting ahold of their characters, or struggling with mic issues. As Jelly Roll, Stanley Martin burns up the stage in the conclusion of act one (“Dr. Jazz”) and throughout the second half, especially in “Jelly’s Isolation Dance”, but his facial inflection and vocal anguish seem muted in dramatic earlier scenes. He brings the tapdancing prowess in the second act.

The Hunnies, a Flapper-style Greek chorus representing the baddest, sexiest, mama jammas around, harmonize beautifully in the second act. Renée Reid brings smoky vocals as Anita, Ryane Nicole Studivant gives operatic hints to Gran Mimi, and Tamara Anderson’s robust voice as Miss Mamie rounds out a trio of astounding musical treasures. Young dancer Giada Leigh gives her all through her facial expressions and nonstop energy. Forest McClendon’s speaking voice is perfect for the Chimney Man.

As mentioned, on opening night, there were some bugs in the sound. During the Hunnies’ introduction, the sound seemed low on their mics, so I didn’t get that belting Gospel feel I expected. There were also some micro-second delays in increasing the volume on Anita’s mic, and the Hunnies and the New York gangsters were more easily heard from stage right.

But the production elements succeed: Dr. Yatande Whitney Hunter and Dewitt Fleming Jr provide smoking-hot group choreography that fills the stage. Industrial influenced scenic design by Jason Simms, Levonne Lindsay's imaginative period costumes, and lights by Alan Edwards all kill.

Modern considerations

Director Tyrone Robinson (check out his recent interview on the BSR Podcast) continues to excel at staging group ensembles with picture-perfect tableaus. He stays true to the spirit of the original Broadway production, but he takes a light touch through the first act on Morton’s colorist statements. I felt Robinson was being careful not to upset the audience with internal racism during the first act. But these statements resonate harder during the second act.

Today, Jelly’s Last Jam almost feels dated in its portrayal of female characters as primarily sexual, characterizing Anita in terms of the bedroom, or her jealousy. However, she frequently bankrolled Morton’s career, especially his assumed 1940 comeback. His real-life back-and-forth relationship with Anita Gonzalez and his other partner, Mabel Bertrand, is fascinating. In the end, Gonzalez inherited Morton’s royalties, which passed down through her family.

Bringing Jelly Roll back

If you haven’t read Jelly Roll Morton’s history, take a couple minutes. It’s horrifying to realize Jelly Roll was turned away from a white hospital after the son of a club owner’s friend stabbed him, or that Benny Goodman recorded Fletcher Henderson's re-arrangement of one of Morton's songs (“King Porter Stomp”) without giving him verbal or monetary recognition. Morton continues to inspire musicians that mainstream culture might not recognize. His original band name Red Hot Peppers inspired the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I would have liked to see more of Robinson’s artistic vision in making this show more relevant to today. Yes, there was a 2024 revival, and racial recognition and colorism remain important, but why produce this now at BRT? At more than 30 years old, this show speaks strongly to Black identity at that time, but I’d love to see elements that tie the show to our moment. As our current leaders roll back DEI and remove public displays about Black history, I understand why Morton’s spirit might want to return to the stage.