Some musicals never die, a case in point being Rock of Ages. It began its theatrical life in a 30-minute version at an L.A. nightclub in 2005. Then it moved to another L.A. nightclub, where a full production was unveiled. Next stop was Vegas, followed by off-Broadway and Broadway, where it proceeded to run for 2000 performances and cop numerous prizes. Productions were then seen in Canada, England, Australia and South Africa. The capper was a 2012 movie starring Tom Cruise. Now the cultural phenomenon has returned to L.A. at a brand-new venue, the Bourbon Room, whose second floor has been retrofitted to accommodate the musical (new lighting grid, sound system, dressing rooms, etc.) Seating is cabaret style; there is a runway in the middle of the room, making for intimate connection with the 16-peson cast, all of whom sing, dance, and clown with manic intensity and glee. Rock of Ages is a jukebox musical whose dozen of songs come out of the 80s and were made popular by such bands as Journey, Foreigner, Whitesnake, and REO Speedwagon. The audience, on the night I attended, seemed to know all the songs and wasn’t shy about belting out the lyrics, encouraged by the cast and the hordes of waiters scurrying around and pouring drinks. It made for a collegial atmosphere, loud, relaxed, raucous, and boozy. Rock of Ages is set in a club (conveniently called the Bourbon Room). Its main plot deals with a love triangle: a busboy who dreams of becoming a rock star falls for a waitress who then is seduced by an actual rock star named Stacee Jaxx. Its subplot involves the evil doings of a French-German conglomerate trying to demolish the Sunset Strip, where the Bourbon Room is located, and rebuild it in its own image. It’s the rock world vs. the corporate world, the people vs. the one-percenters. The action at all times is snappy and quick: one short scene after another punctuated with songs (“I Want to Know What Love Is,” “Shadows of the Night,” “I Hate Myself for Loving You,” etc.), and with lashings of bawdy jokes, campy behavior, satirical irreverence. When you add outrageous costumes, gaudy lighting, and a head-banging live band to the mix, you sit there a bit stunned by the all sound and fury, but ultimately moved by the show’s message: “the dreams with which you enter are not always the dreams with which you leave, but they still rock.”
