BEYOND THE SEA AND
STRAIGHT INTO YOUR HEART
Well, ring-a-ding-ding, folks — Broadway’s got itself a bona fide, velvet-voiced heartthrob lighting up Circle in the Square, and his name’s Jonathan Groff. In Just in Time, Groff doesn’t just croon — he glides, he grins, and he’s got more razzle-dazzle than a sock hop under a full moon.
The Circle’s done up by Derek McLane like a high-tone retro supper club straight outta the golden days — blue fabric walls glowing under chic little sconces, cocktail tables in the center of the playing area, and an art-deco bandstand gleaming like a Cadillac hood ornament. There ain’t a bad seat in the house at Club Groff. It’s cozy, it’s classy, and ready to swing till the wee small hours.
Gracie Lawrence & Jonathan Groff
Right off the bat, Groff breaks the fourth wall ice with a cheeky self-referential wink: “I sweat and spit,” he shrugs, flashing that million-watt grin, before sliding headfirst into Bobby Darin’s scuffed loafers. And let’s be real — if someone pitched me this gimmick at an investor meeting (“Hey, Groff’s just gonna be Darin”), I would’ve shuddered into my highball glass, clutched my pearls, and backed out the door. But baby, damn, it works. It works so good you’ll swear you can smell the Brylcreem.
Jonathan Groff & Cast
Now, Darin wasn’t just any cool cat — he knew he had a bum ticker, diagnosed young, and that limited-time ticking clock is the secret jet fuel behind the man’s whole zippy, gutsy, burn-bright life. He knew time was running on a short fuse, and baby, he moved. That urgency hums underneath everything in Just in Time. Every song, every wisecrack, every desperate grin says, make it count. It’s that bittersweet buzz that gives the show its beating heart.
Christine Cornish, Jonathan Groff & Julia Grondin
Backing Groff is a trio of sirens so red-hot, they’d make the muses from Hercules throw in the towel. Christine Cornish, Julia Grondin, and Valeria Yamin don’t just sing backup — they own the joint. Those harmonies are so tight you could bounce a silver dollar off ’em. They shimmy, they stomp, they shoot off sparks, perfectly synched while executing Shannon Lewis‘s dances. Half the time, you can’t tell if they’re supporting Groff or daring him to keep up — either way, the audience wins. And those quick-change outfits? Mama mia. Catherine Zuber offers my favorite costuming of the whole season, bar none. The colors, the fabrics — silks, sequins, satins that catch Justin Townsend‘s gorgeous lighting like candy wrappers at Christmas. Bottom line: those sirens are so sexy, I had to physically restrain myself from hopping up onstage and splish-splashing right along with ’em — until I saw that their leg kicks were so high, they hit Jesus in the eye. Ouch in all the right ways.
Jonathan Groff
The first act zips by like a cherry-red Thunderbird. You can tell ace scribes Warren Leight and Isaac Oliver love Darin’s world. No jive, though: Act II eases off the gas a little too much, and even the show’s own script winks at how ballad-heavy things get. Still, the entertainment factor stays hotter than a jalopy hood in July, thanks to Groff’s magnetic glow as he works the room like Sinatra on a Saturday night.
Erika Henningsen
Of course, you can’t tell Bobby’s story without the dames who put a twinkle in his eye: Sandra Dee shows up, played with a sly sugar rush by Erika Henningsen, sweet on the outside but nobody’s pushover, except maybe by her mom. Connie Francis swings by too, served up with sass and satin by Gracie Lawrence, whose pipes could knock the varnish off a grand piano. Both gals bring their own stardust to the proceedings, slipping into Darin’s heart and out of his life without missing a beat.
Valeria Yamin, Michele Pawk & Julia Grondin
Stealing scenes every chance she gets is Bobby’s mama, played by the sensational Michele Pawk — a tough old broad with a mouth like a meat grinder and a heart made of pure brass. Every time Pawk stomps into a scene, the air gets thicker, the stakes get higher, and the laughs get louder. She’s pure old-school gold, baby, and you can’t take your eyes off her.
Jonathan Groff
The whole shebang snaps and sparkles with arrangements by Andrew Resnick, and orchestrations by Resnick and Michael Thurber — pure dynamite under Groff’s feet. That brassy onstage combo punches the tunes straight into your bloodstream. But get this: I was seated right next to the band and I still got every lyric — the sound by Peter Hylenski is that impeccable — meaning there’s nothin’ to peck at. Director Alex Timbers keeps the engine humming and the dance floor hot, slipping Groff and the sirens through clever twists and sparkle bombs of movement — never too much, always just enough to keep the night bouncing like a jukebox on payday. Everything just slides right into the next downbeat like it’s all happening by accident (but you know it ain’t).
Just in Time ain’t about saving the world. It’s about feeling alive — a highball of heart, a cigarette kiss at midnight, a reminder that sometimes you gotta burn bright before you burn out.
Jonathan Groff doesn’t just deliver — he seduces. He swings, he swoons, he punches you right in the nostalgia muscle and leaves you grinning like you just won the jackpot at the Copa.
It’s a slam-bang, love-struck miracle — and baby, it’s right on time.
photos by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
Just in Time
Circle in the Square Theatre, 235 W 50th St
2 hours and 20 minutes, with intermission
open run
for tickets, visit Just in Time
