A SKETCHY, SPREAD OUT SEND-UP
SAGS WITH SLUGGISH SATIRE
I like to go into shows completely blind. Sometimes that backfires, but usually not before the show even starts. On Thursday, I walked into the opening-night performance of 44: The Obama Musical—a show framed as Joe Biden’s hazy recollection of Barack Obama’s rise to the presidency. Expecting a snappy 90-minute romp for this thin set-up, the usher informed me it was two and a half hours with intermission. Talk about ambitious. Are they trying to kill me? This remount, however, has its devoted fans, who now have a chance to see it with most of its original cast and crew at the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City.
Chad Doreck, T.J. Wilkins
With book, music, lyrics, and direction by Eli Bauman, 44 kicks off with a power anthem, “M.F.O.” (“Motherfuckin’ Obama”), an amusing opening that quickly wears out its welcome. The premise—seeing history through Biden’s distorted memories—suggests a goldmine of absurdity and self-aggrandizement, but Biden is ultimately a minor character, often pushed aside. Instead, 44 plays out more like an extended Saturday Night Live sketch, covering Obama’s rise in broad strokes with a flood of historical inaccuracies that would have worked if Bauman had stuck to the premise of Biden’s faulty mind. And at a nearly three-hour evening, it goes well past its sell-by date, needing serious editing.
The show leaps from the 44th president’s famous 2004 Democratic National Convention speech straight to Hillary Clinton fuming over the 2008 primaries, skipping over the years in between with little setup. Major political figures—Michelle Obama, Mitch McConnell, Lindsey Graham, Ted Cruz, and Herman Cain—pop in and out, though some get more stage time than others. John McCain and Mitt Romney are barely mentioned, but Sarah Palin gets an inspired show-stopping number as a pole-dancing flag enthusiast in “Drill Me Baby.” (Obama’s successor is not mentioned, nor his crusade for the birth certificate.) The approach is scattershot, assuming audiences are already well-versed in Obama-era politics.
Shanice, T.J. Wilkins and cast of 44
Musically, 44 leans on pastiche, pulling from gospel, soul, R&B, and rap. Musical quotations and parodies are the overall approach, with many numbers feeling like winking tributes to well-known songs. Some references are clear (Prince, Little Shop of Horrors), others are more elusive. The low point comes with “What Would Liam Neeson Do?,” a puzzling number that sent my mind wandering to “What Would Brian Boitano Do?” from South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut.
Shanice
Given the role race played in Obama’s presidency, it makes sense that 44 foregrounds the topic. However, the most charitable way I could describe the way Bauman handles them is simplistic and muddled, though I see it more as regressive and ignorant. The Obamas are depicted as near-flawless, while Biden is an eager, bumbling sidekick. Clinton is portrayed as power-hungry while Republican figures are largely cartoonish villains—all except Herman Cain, who, despite his real-life status as a staunch Tea Party conservative, is depicted as reluctant to toe the party line, recognizing that he’s being used as a token Black person. He is allowed to be a member of W.H.A.M. (White Hetero Affluent Men) and chafes at having to read party talking points on Fox News. Is it so unfathomable that Black Republicans are true believers? More of the black/virtuous, white/undeserving-at-best attitude goes so far as to make Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant Black. The most egregious handling of race, though, was in regards to Ted Cruz, who is looked at by other members of W.H.A.M. as if he doesn’t belong, because, you know, “Latino”—except Hispanic people are classified as white, and have been for a very long time. The point is that 44 flattens political complexities into easy punchlines.
Chad Doreck, T.J. Wilkins, Jenna Pastuszek
Vocally, the cast is excellent, delivering powerhouse performances. Cutie Chad Doreck is charming, but skews young as Obama-era Joe Biden, coming across more like Gavin Newsom as played by Josh Meyers. T.J. Wilkins has a magnificent R&B sound, but he’s generic as Obama, conveying none of his charm. Diminutive Shanice gave a hint of zaniness as Michelle Obama getting aroused by a portrait of George Washington in “(Let’s Make) White House Love,” but the show reduced her character to a stereotypical supportive-wife role. Larry Cedar plays Mitch McConnell as a badass with a ponytail. Jane Papageorge’s brash, over-the-top Sarah Palin is a highlight, but she’s gone too soon. Jeff Sumner was delightful prancing around as a mincing Lindsay Graham, and Michael Uribes as Ted Cruz did a terrific Dr. Seuss rapping in “Filibusters”—but that number fizzled out, too. Jenna Pastuszek as Hillary Clinton tended to be overshadowed by, well, everything, but she provoked one of my few good laughs during the show. Dino Shorté was not believable as Herman Cain. One of the big disappointments of the night was a wasted Summer Nicole Greer as “Voice of the People,” a concept that didn’t work. Her vocal pyrotechnics bowled me over, but she didn’t get a number that allowed her to soar.
Jenna Pastuszek, T.J. Wilkins, Chad Doreck
Visually, the production is polished but restrained. Julio Himede’s set keeps things simple with an Oval Office backdrop. Nathan W. Scheuer does lighting and projection, the latter of which is used so sparingly, and is so difficult to see through upstage window frames, that it would have been better discarded. Haley Meeker’s costumes are functional, with occasional flair—showing off Doreck’s ripped bare chest and Shanice’s sky-high shiny heels provide fun distractions. Miss James Alsop choreographed, keeping the actors busy.
Jonathan Burke’s overbearing amplified sound design, on the other hand, overwhelms with chest-rattling bass, booming bass drum and huge face microphones that drown out lyrics (maybe that was for the best; the ones I heard often veered into the insipid). The smokin’ hot five-piece band, with Musical Director Anthony Brewster leading on keyboards, was placed above in the boxes and was too loud for nuance. By the time we got to the climax with everyone belting full-blast, I could no longer even attempt to pay attention to the words. I just wanted it to end. Bring earplugs.
Shanice, T.J. Wilkins and cast of 44With many friends and fans in the house, audience response (which was encouraged at the start) was nonetheless mixed—some laughed uproariously, while others (like me) remained less enthused. The show lands some sharp gags—the Fox News “bimbots” are amazingly clever—but it rarely goes beyond surface-level satire. If you still find The Daily Show cutting-edge, you’ll likely enjoy 44 more than I did.
Political comedy should bite. It should challenge and surprise. 44 mostly coasts on nostalgia and easy applause lines. Obama was a singular figure in American history, but the show assumes we already know why, rather than making us feel it again (and, boy oh boy, do we ever need to feel that now). So as the finale swelled with endless repetitions of “M.F.O.,” I found myself sitting there, thinking, “B.F.D.”
photos by Bella Marie Adams
44: The Obama Musical
Kirk Douglas Theatre, 9820 Washington Blvd. in Culver City
Wed-Sat at 7:30; Sun at 1
ends on March 23, 2025
for tickets, visit 44
for more shows, visit Theatre in LA
