As a teenager whose musical tastes (and politics) were shaped more by Laurel Canyon than New Orleans, I never had much interest in Louis Armstrong before his death in 1971, the summer before my first year in college. His ingratiating smile had made a bigger impact than his jazz genius. I couldn't really explain my dislike, but I can now, thanks to A Wonderful World: it was phony.
A jukebox musical probably isn't the most reliable reflection of the historical record, but in this case the imagined truth probably is pretty accurate. Who knows if Satchmo crossed paths with Stepin Fetchit in Hollywood (which, no surprise, is where the production's razzle dazzle soars highest) but the advice the established star gives to the musical newcomer seems sound for the 1930s: remain as non-threatening to the white world as possible if you want to get ahead even if means becoming "the laziest man alive." Armstrong responds with "When You're Smiling," one of his best known songs, after Fetchit assures him that his Black audience will understand and forgive his indulgence of racial stereotype.
In fact, racism forms the very pointed backdrop for Aurin Squire's well-structured book. It tracks Armstrong's life through the lens of his four wives, including Lil Hardin (Jennie Harney-Fleming, terrific), whose Chicago polish and go-getting influence seems to have contributed most to his success. After Lil dresses Armstrong in a tuxedo, we never see him out of one until late in the show while he and Lucille Wilson, the wife who finally got him to settle down, are watching television coverage of the Little Rock Nine. The real Louis emerges and he's no longer smiling. He criticizes Ike, then president, even after his manager has told him never to talk politics, and sings a version of the "Star Spangled Banner" unlike any you've ever heard. Armstrong suddenly finds himself in the entertainment wilderness until he records "Hello, Dolly" and the smile returns. Even I couldn't object when it was directed at Barbra Streisand in the movie.
Apparently that's not how many of his fellow African Americans felt. Times had changed, and many viewed Armstrong as an "Uncle Tom," almost as embarrassing as Stepin Fetchit in a Black Panther era. A Wonderful World strives to revive Armstrong's reputation by providing context for the persona he developed and which has aged poorly. As much as I enjoyed the show, I don't know how successful it will be, particularly when, judging from Wednesday's matinee, the audience is primarily white baby boomers still not quite old enough to remember Armstrong from his jazziest years. Will anyone else even care?
It's also possible no single actor is up to the task of re-creating Armstrong's time-specific charisma. Although I didn't see James Monroe Igleheart (who co-directed the production) in the role, James T. Lane, who performs at matinees, certainly reminded me of the man I remember from television but how can anyone convincingly cover a life over five decades, not counting a brief, maudlin stint in heaven?
Don't get me wrong, I love the title song (thanks mostly to a 2002 cover k d lang and Tony Bennett) but Armstrong's world seemed anything but wonderful, and ending the show on that note only seems to reenforce his now maligned survival strategy. Perhaps it would be better just to listen to Armstrong's early recordings and read a detailed biography which is exactly what A Wonderful World has inspired me to do, no insignificant achievement. I plan to visit his and Lucille's house in Queens, too.
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