Just in Time
Jonathan Groff. (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)
By Fern Siegel (Posted 5/2/25)
Bobby Darin lived life in the fast lane.
That’s due largely to his heart, the ticking time bomb that exploded when he was 37. A sickly child, he knew his time was finite. But Just in Time, now on Broadway at Circle in the Square, isn’t a eulogy. It’s a fun jukebox musical — part bio/part concert — that offers hot choreography and costumes and the joint-is-jumping performances.
Darin (a stellar Jonathan Groff) came truly alive on stage and set designer Derek McLane has skillfully transformed the theater into a deco version of early Sixties’ nightclub cool, including café tables in the theater’s center. They flank a higher stage where Groff introduces himself, then pays enthusiastic tribute to Bobby D for an athletic two hours.
Happily, Groff has the musical chops and appeal to carry the show. The one distraction, particularly for those in the front, is his projectile spitting. Something his powerhouse co-stars, particularly the women in his life, avoid. Gracie Lawrence is an incredible Connie Francis, Darin’s first love, while Erika Henningsen is a touching Sandra Dee, whose marriage to the singer was anything but “Dream Lover.” Michelle Pawk nicely embodies a mother determined to inspire her son’s show-biz career.
As we watch Darin’s ascent, from writing commercial jingles with later legendary producer Don Kirschner (Caesar Samayoa), we get the pleasures of a first-rate band. His rags-to-riches-to-resurgence story begins with the hit “Splish Splash,” which he said took minutes to write, and a career-defining jazz version of “Mack the Knife.” A brash, intelligent man who mastered numerous musical instruments, he skyrocketed to fame by 25. “Just in Time” takes that journey with him, aided by amazing backup dancer-singers Valeria Yamin, Christine Cornish and Julia Grondin. The trio executes Shannon Lewis’ choreography to perfection.
Darin initially imitated Elvis, but his vocal talent and youthful edge turned him into a teen idol. The second act compresses Darin’s career, his flirtation with folk music and politics. His life is told in brushstrokes — so his musical impact and subsequent rebellions get short shrift. While he was electric on stage, he was part of an era. He did not define it. What’s interesting is Groff breaking character to remind the audience he isn’t Darin, but noting the similarities between them. Both connect with audiences on a visceral level.
And while we can debate the lasting value of pop melodies with cliché or silly lyrics, there’s no denying Darin’s entertainment value. Director Alex Timbers keeps the tribute pace lively and upbeat. Justin Townsend’s colorful lighting design adds to the ride, smoothly capturing the thrill of a singular performer.