ON THE TOWN WITH THE “LAST OF THE RED HOT MAMAS” AT BUCKS COUNTY PLAYHOUSE

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by Chip Deffaa, Editor-at-Large

I just got back from the Bucks County Playhouse, which I always enjoy visiting, to catch the world-premiere production of “Last of the Red Hot Mamas,” a new musical about Sophie Tucker.  The show’s not ready for Broadway yet.  It’s got lots of flaws which need fixing, and I’ll get to those flaws shortly.  But—and this is rarer and much more important–it’s also got lots of vitality.

It is, at present,  an uneven show.  At times, the writing soars; occasionally, it falls flat and I wince.  The score mixes some irresistible, time-tested favorites from the repertoires of Tucker and her contemporaries with some new songs by Susan and Lloyd Ecker (who, along with Harrison David Rivers, also wrote the show’s book); the new songs aren’t nearly as good as the older ones.

But there’s lots of life in this production. Despite the numerous imperfections—which can be addressed if the creative team is willing to make needed changes—I enjoyed this show more than most I’ve seen in recent years.  Producers Alexander Fraser, Robyn Goodman, and Josh Fiedler have put some terrific performers on that stage.  The production is handsomely mounted. It has the look of a winner. (My compliments to scenic designer Nate Bertone.)  The sound design (by Jeff Sherwood) is perfect.  (And that should not be taken for granted; I’ve seen some good shows undermined by poor sound design.)  This production is extremely well-cast.   And the peak moments in this show, directed/choreographed by Shea Sullivan—the moments that really work–give me hope.

 Sullivan has created the best tap choreography I’ve seen in years. I loved the fresh, inventive way Sullivan staged one scene (“Bojangele’s Letter”), with seated tap-dancers creating the sounds of a train traveling down the tracks.    It was worth making the long drive down to Bucks County just to witness that.  I’m glad that Susan and Lloyd  Ecker (who have previously helped celebrate Tucker’s legacy via a book, two CDs, and a documentary, “The Outrageous Sophie Tucker”) chose to do this musical. And they’ve selected some fine vintage songs.

Brassy, sassy Sophie Tucker  (1888-1986) was a fabulous, larger-than-life entertainer; she’s certainly deserving of a big biographical musical.  And there’s enough that is “right” in this production at present to make me eager to see future incarnations of the show.  If the writers can make the needed fixes (in terms of structure, content, historical accuracy), the show will have a good future.  And I’m rooting for its success.  But a lot of work still needs to be done if this musical is to have the kind of future life it deserves.

Set in 1906-1913, this high-spirited musical covers just  the first seven years of Tucker’s fabled 60-year career.  It aims to depict  her rise to stardom. And I like the authors’ desire to show us a fuller, more inclusive  picture of the showbiz world that Tucker emerged from than we usually see.  There’s much to enjoy here.  And a lot of potential.

But the production’s  strengths and its weaknesses both became apparent quite quickly.

* * *

I was riveted when Ryann Redmond—terrifically well-cast as Sophie Tucker—began singing the first number in the show, that old ragtime-era favorite, “Hello My Baby.”  I sat bolt-upright, enthralled by her galvanic performance.  Her voice—wonderfully big, full, ripe—filled the theater. (I’ve seen her onstage before, but not like this; my first impression was: “This is the perfect role for her; this could give her the breakout opportunity she deserves.”)  She just grabbed me.  I jotted on my notepad: “A find!  A compelling ‘Sophie Tucker.’”   I was confident  this was going  to be some great show.

But then, alas—much, much too quickly—everyone onstage joined her on the number, and her singular voice wound up getting  lost in a generic ensemble sound. And then—much too soon–the number came to an end.

  I couldn’t believe it!  Didn’t the powers-that-be realize they had an unknown with real star potential on their hands? (And how rare that is!)   Didn’t they see  that Redmond  had a greater impact, singing by herself alone, than the whole ensemble did?  It’d be  wiser to let her sing longer by herself in that first number—give her time to fully capture the  audience, establish herself firmly  as the star of the show—and then let the others join in, while taking care to make sure that she remains prominent.   The producers have  got a star in their company; they need to showcase her like one.  For me, it was frustrating, watching Redmond briefly wow the audience with that sensational clarion voice of hers, and then see her forced, all-too-quickly to disappear into the ensemble.

Throughout the show, I found myself periodically feeling that same sense of frustration.  They’d let Redmond sing a little in that extraordinary voice of hers—and I’d be thinking, “Now they’re finally going to give her the chance to really be the star in this show”—but then the number would soon be over and the focus would shift elsewhere.

 The show is unusually well-cast (props to Hardt Casting!), and assorted other players besides Redmond  are given chances to shine.  Each one gets his or her turn.  It’s democratic to a fault.

There’s a great deal  of talent—including some artists who are new to me–in that cast.  For sheer entertainment value, I enjoyed the contributions of one performer after another:  Rheaume Crenshaw (wonderful work from start to finish—I’ll be watching for her name from now on), DeWitt Fleming Jr. (superb dancing), Stephanie Gibson, Danny Rutligliano, Jonathan Hadley….  Lots of bright moments to enjoy. But the musical, as a whole, feels unfocused.  It’s as if the creative team, from time to time, forgets whose story (Sophie Tucker’s) is being told.

Watching the show, I found myself thinking of conversations I had over the years with Carol Channing (who long was my favorite person in the business–for several decades she was  my “Fairy Godmother”).  She told me  that when “Hello, Dolly!” first began its pre-Broadway, out-of-own tryouts, it was more of an ensemble show than the show that eventually opened on Broadway.  But director Gower Champion, composer Jerry Herman, and book-writer Michael Stewart realized the show needed to focus more on the character of Dolly Gallagher Levi, and began the process of pruning and re-shaping the show, reducing the number of lines spoken or sung by others in the show, and increasing the prominence of Dolly.  Some in the cast did not like the changes; but once the show really came into focus, the audience response was much stronger.  (Jerry Herman, independently, told me much the same thing.)  I think “Last of the Red Hot Mamas” needs to undergo something along those lines.  In its present form, it feels too much like an ensemble show–an often very entertaining variety show, in which one performer after another gets to perform directly to the audience.  And, for the most part, I liked what the performers had offer.  But with judicious adjustments, “Last of the Red Hot Mamas”  can be made more clearly Sophie Tucker’s show.  And I think it will become a stronger and more cohesive show in the process.

*  *  *

I’ve always loved Sophie Tucker.  As a kid growing up, our family’s reel-to-reel Wollensak tape recorder was usually right in front of the television set.  I’d tape television performances by such showbiz legends as Sophie Tucker, Jimmy Durante, Ted Lewis, Louis Armstrong, and Cab Calloway, and replay over and over  those great tapes (which I still have, even if the Wollensak tape recorder died years ago). In addition,  I was mentored by an ex-vaudevillian, Todd Fisher, who was a contemporary of Tucker’s and greatly admired her gifts.  He still had clippings from when he played the Palace Theatre—the Mecca of Vaudeville—in 1913, the same year that Tucker made her first appearance there.  I was proud to be the youngest member of his theatrical family.  (The oldest was an ancient dame, very much in the Sophie Tucker tradition, who billed herself as “the First of the Red Hot Mamas.”)

 Todd Fisher would recall the importance of—and the impact and influence of—Sophie Tucker on contemporary performers as a song stylist.  None of that is reflected in this new musical; but it should be.  Someone watching “Last of the Red Hot Mamas” would get the impression that  that Sophie Tucker was a loud singer who  sometimes sang risqué songs.  But there was much more to Tucker than that, and a show about her should give a much more complete picture of her contributions  as an artist. 

Todd Fisher admired the way Tucker was equally effective—and few singers are—whether singing bright rhythmic numbers, comic numbers, or numbers rich with honest sentiment and pathos (like “My Yiddishe Momme,” which he noted could make listeners cry; we don’t get to see that side of her in “Last of the Red Hot Mammas” and we definitely should).

Fisher also told me that it was Tucker who introduced and popularized the idea of starting a song in a slow tempo and switching in the middle of the performance to double-time.  He told me that everyone copied Tucker when she began doing that, circa 1916, to the point where it became almost a show business cliché.  But he said she was recognized, back then, as the one who started that trend.  Traditionally, before then, a performer might sing a slow song or a fast song, but a slow song was always sung slowly from beginning to end; a fast song was always sung  fast from beginning to end.  He said it surprised everybody when Tucker began starting a song slowly and then would  heat things up by doubling the tempo midway through it.  He credited her as making that tempo-shift, mid-song, popular.

He liked, too, the way Tucker  could sing (or talk/sing) behind the beat.  The way she could, for example, let the band play most of the music corresponding to the words “Some… of… these… days” before she finally began to sing those words.  Making the audience wait for you, he taught me, was a way to create tension and make a performance feel more authoritative.  It was her song; she owned it; she could begin singing when she felt like it.    When he was teaching me to talk/sing numbers, she was one of the  artists he wanted me to listen to, because she knew how to find the full measure of drama in a talk/sung line. (I still have a couple of Tucker songs in my own repertoire. I’ve used her songs in musicals I’ve written and directed; I’ve had others record some of her songs; and I’ve recorded some myself.)  She understood that sometimes a line could go over much better if spoken rather than sung.  Todd Fisher, who believed it was essential for aspiring young performers to learn from past masters, stressed that Sophie Tucker was not just a terrific all-around entertainer, she was, in the early years of her career, an important and influential song stylist.

None of that is reflected in “Last of the Red Hot Mamas,” but it should be.  The show closes with Redmond singing “Some of these Days.” Redmond does  a good job.  But she could do a much better job, ending the show much more powerfully, if she (working with the  music director/arranger) would listen to various  live performances of  Tucker singing that number through the years, and try to  capture the essence of Tucker’s terrific style.  The show will work better—and evoke Tucker better for those who recall her—if the star portraying her can phrase more like Tucker, declaiming  lines at her own pace—dropping them in later than most singers would–the way Tucker did.  “Make the audience wait for you!”–as Todd Fisher used to put it. 

He noted, too, that Tucker (like Jolson) drew upon both Black and Jewish musical traditions. The wail she sometimes got in her voice, the way she could sometimes turn a one syllable word into a three-syllable word (“Some of these day-ay-ays…”) came from Jewish musical traditions.  That, too, ought to be reflected in the show.  It’d be good to hear more of Tucker’s way with a song—especially in the final number.  “Some of these Days” could be sung longer,  with greater authority, to close the show. (And then a currently good finale would become a great one.)  We should feel that Tucker has grown in strength as a performer over the course of the show.  We should see that, hear that.

* * *

“Last of the Red Hot Mama” is built upon a strong foundation—the actual, enduringly popular songs that Tucker and her vaudeville contemporaries were known for.  The score includes such time-tested favorites as “After You’ve Gone,” “There’ll be Some Changes Made,” “I Wonder Where My Easy Rider’s Gone,” “Darktown Strutters’ Ball,” “Shine on Harvest Moon,” and more.  I heard older audience members remark, during the intermission and after the show—how much they enjoyed hearing once again those old favorites.  And they were, for the most part, sung well.  To a large extent, those songs make the show.

 Bizarrely—and improperly—none of the  songwriters are credited by name anywhere within the show or in the program (the “Playbill”) for the show.  The program credits Susan and Lloyd Ecker with writing “additional music and lyrics.”  But it fails to credit any of the songwriters whose work provides the heart and soul of this musical.  And this musical makes use of songs by some of the best writers of the era, including Shelton Brooks, Joseph E. Howard, William Jerome, Grant Clarke, Jean Schwartz, Henry Creamer & Turner Layton, Nora Bayes & Jack Norwood, and  Dorothy Fields & Jimmy McHugh. 

You can’t simply appropriate the work of such masters without crediting them.  That’s not cricket.  I hope the Playhouse will prepare an insert for the program,   identifying the writers of all 28 musical numbers in the show.  It’s only fair to give credit where its due.  That’s the ethical thing to do.

Tucker played an important role in bring Black music into the mainstream.  She properly credited the songwriters whose work she used.  In one TV appearance late in life, for example, she stated: “As long as I live, I will bless Shelton Brooks”–the gifted Black songwriter who gave her such hits as “I Wonder Where My Easy Rider’s Gone,” “Darktown Strutters Ball,” and her signature song for more than 50 years, “Some of these Days.”   Not crediting  Brooks–who made such a difference in Tucker’s life–bothered me a lot.  Younger audience members (and reviewers), noting only who’s credited in the program, might even mistakenly assume  that Susan and Lloyd Ecker wrote some of the great older songs in the show.  Creamer & Layton, another important pioneering Black songwriting team, who gave Tucker the timeless “After You’ve Gone,” deserve recognition.  Along with all of the others.  The Eckers’ new musical contributions aren’t, by and large,  on the level of the oldtime songwriting masters whose songs are so  essential to the show.

I’m not claiming that every vintage song is a masterpiece.  (“Last of the Red Hot Mamas” ends the first act with one of the weaker of the vintage songs in its score, “By the Sycamore Tree,” needlessly giving the act a low-key ending.  I’d recommend they find a stronger way to end the act.)  But “After You’ve Gone” definitely is a masterpiece—one of the best songs Tucker ever recorded or popularized.

Oddly, both “After You’ve Gone” and another Tucker classic, “There’ll Be Some Changes Made,” are not given to “Sophie Tucker” to sing in “Last of the Red Hot Mamas,” but to another character, “Mollie Elkins” (played by Rheaume Crenshaw).  In fact, audience members unfamiliar with Tucker’s career   would have no way of even knowing these  were Sophie Tucker songs.  The script simply has Elkins saying she’s going to sing an “old song,” and she sings “After You’ve Gone.”  (I might add that in 1913, when the scene is taking place, “After You’ve Gone” was not an “old song.”  In  fact, it hadn’t even been written yet—that’s one, one of  numerous little errors  in the script that I found distracting.) 

Now Reheaume Crenshaw is a terrific singer, with an appealing mix of strength and warmth.  And she does a first-rate job on “After You’ve Gone.” (It’s a high point of the show.)   But this musical is supposed to be about Sophie Tucker; dramatically speaking, it’d make more sense to have Sophie Tucker, not her friend Crenshaw, singing one of those two classic Sophie Tucker numbers—maybe “There’ll Be Some Changes Made.”

One fine vintage song in the show that is not working at  present is “You Can’t Get Away from It,” popularized by Nora Bayes.  It is sung in this show by Stephanie Gibson, portraying Bayes, and she doesn’t have a feel for it.   It is often difficult for modern-day performers to put over ragtime songs; they’re not used to the rhythmic feel of those songs.   But you have to trust the material, perform it as written and originally recorded.  You can’t try to modernize or swing ragtime songs, or they’ll lose their charm.  You have to sing them straight and let the syncopation work its magic.  Gibson has an appealing voice, and if she and the music director listen to various excellent ragtime-era recordings of this cute song (made by Nora Bayes,  Bert Williams, Jack Norwood), I’m confident she can score with it. 

In a similar vein, while I enjoyed very much the energy of Danny Rutigliano and Jonathan Hadley, portraying Willie and Eugene Howard, their characterizations—delightful as they were–bore little resemblance to the real-life vaudeville and Broadway stars they were portraying.  I think if they were to listen to a recording of Willie and Eugene Howard and try to capture some of the way they spoke, it’d make the show more fun and more authentic.

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 * * *

 I also hope the authors will consider selecting a better title for this show to avoid confusion with a different–but much-too-similarly-titled–show about Sophie Tucker that already exists.  In 2002, the great Sharon McNight starred at the York Theatre, Off-Broadway in NYC, in a show about Tucker that she conceived and wrote, called “Red Hot Mama.”  Both McNight and the show were excellent, and I gave the production a  rave review.  That show remains one of the best shows I’ve ever seen at the York Theatre in the last 40-odd years–which is saying plenty.  And from time to time, through the 22 years since “Red Hot Mama” opened in New York, McNight has also starred  in regional productions of the show.  Hopefully, she’ll continue to star in future productions of “Red Hot Mama” as well. 

To me, it seems crazy to title this new show about Tucker, currently running at the Bucks County Playhouse,  “Last of the Red Hot Mamas”.  That’s simply too close to the title of McNight’s superb show about Tucker, “Red Hot Mama.”  (Both shows, incidentally, feature some of the exact same songs from Tucker’s own repertoire.) To avoid confusion, the new show ought to find a unique new title for itself.

* * *

I was bothered by the numerous factual inaccuracies in “Last of the Red Hot Mamas.“ Every biographical show will take some artistic liberties; that’s understood and accepted.  For dramatic purposes, it may be  necessary to create composite characters, or simplify sequences of events.  We readily accept such things if the story as a whole captures the essence of the artist whose life story is being told; we  overlook minor inaccuracies if  the overall show rings true. A period show works best if it’s anchored in historically accurate details.   (The musical “Ragtime,” for example,  is a work of fiction but contains so many precisely accurate historical details, it feels truthful throughout.)   But “Last of the Red Hot Mamas” contains so many inaccuracies, big and small, that after a point the show lost credibility for me.

I’ll name just a few examples off the top of my head; and  I could name many more.  The musical presents Bill “Bojangles” Robinson as an important mentor and influence—a good friend who helps enable Tucker to become a star.

 Now Bill “Bojangles” Robinson was a sublime artist.  He eventually became—although this musical does not indicate it—the highest paid Black performer in show business.  And it is a joy to watch DeWitt Fleming Jr. (beautifully portraying Robinson) bring Robinson’s  classic routines to life.  They were very well done.  I enjoyed every moment Fleming was on stage.

But—and this is very big “but”–in real life, Robinson did not play any significant role in Tucker’s life at all. And for my tastes, the Eckers are taking the concept of artistic liberty too far by presenting him as a major figure in Tucker’s life.  It makes the show feel like a fantasy.

 In the years covered by this show (1906-1913), Robinson was often out on the road, touring in vaudeville–an up-and-coming performer just trying to make a name for himself. (And part of that time, I might also add,  he happened to be in prison.)     He was not hanging around New York City, showing the ropes to Tucker–much less performing for her his famous number “Doin’ the New Low Down” (which Fields & McHugh wrote for him in 1928), as this show has him doing.  Fleming sings and dances that number with infectious flair.  He also gets to recreate brilliantly Robinson’s celebrated stair dance, and more.  All of which are a great deal of fun to watch… but they have nothing to do with Sophie Tucker.

I’m not sure why the authors of this musical have chosen to have Bill “Bojangles” Robinson be  a major character/good friend/prime influence in Tucker’s life.  It’s wholly inaccurate.  To me, it makes about as much sense as it would for someone to write a musical about Taylor Swift and decide to write into the script  Michael Jackson or Diana Ross as a supposed best friend/mentor/major influence upon her. 

But so many things in this show don’t ring true.  Some flaws could be fixed quite easily, others not so easily.  Mollie Elkins, presented as another major influence on Sophie Tucker, refers to herself as having been in Williams & Walker’s show back in 1892.  But Williams & Walker—important early Black stars—had not even met, much less begun putting together shows—in 1892.  Their real fame as show producers and stars came in the early 20th century.  That could be easily fixed, along with the inaccurate claim made in this show that Nora Bayes (in 1913)  had been vaudeville’s top star for 14 years. 

 For some inexplicable reason, legendary impresario B. F. Keith—who owned or controlled more important vaudeville theaters than anyone else when Tucker was coming up—is referred to throughout this show as “E. F. Keith.”   I don’t know if that error is due to carelessness  or what, but it ought  to be fixed.  Small errors gradually add up, and they hurt overall credibility. There simply are too many needless small errors in this show.  (Three song titles are rendered incorrectly in the program.)   If someone brought me a script about the Beatles and it  said that the “Beetles” consisted of performers named  “Jim Lennon” and  “Saul McCartney,” I’d read no further.  For me, hearing B. F. Keith’s name inexplicably rendered incorrectly, over and over, felt something like that.

The script, anachronistically,  has vaudeville star Nora Bayes complaining in 1906 that others are now calling Eva Tanguay, not Bayes, “the It Girl.”  But neither Bayes nor Tanguay (nor anyone else in 1906) was being called “the It Girl.”  That term only became popular when Clara Bow starred in the film “It”  in 1927.  Clara Bow was, as far as the general public was concerned, the one and only “It Girl,” and the phrase remained associated with her for the rest of her life.  The phrase “the It Girl” evokes  the Jazz Age of the 1920s, not the Ragtime Era of Nora Bayes.

The show depicts Bayes, in 1913, as wishing that star Eddie Cantor would hire her, and Bayes makes reference to  Cantor’s five daughters.  But here again, the authors are  pulling  us out of the period.  Twenty-five years after 1913,  audiences would associate Eddie Cantor with his by-then-famous five daughters.   But in 1913, Cantor did not yet have any daughters; he was not yet even married; he was just an “unknown,” struggling to get ahead in vaudeville—not anyone that Bayes, a huge star, would have hoped would hire her. 

The show also has Bayes saying George M. Cohan is mad at her for publicly suggesting that Cohan “yanked his doodle dandy.” That is a cheap, tasteless gag line. And for what purpose? I winced when I heard that.  Cohan thought the world of Bayes (after all, Cohan’s own mother had discovered her, back in 1902); Cohan was proud to present Bayes on Broadway and he personally chose her to introduce one of his greatest songs, “Over There.”  Her recording of it is iconic.

Mollie Elkins is presented as earning—as a maid in 1906–$50 a week.  But no maid in 1906 was earning anywhere near $50 (which would be the equivalent of over $1700 in 2024 dollars); an average Black maid back then was earning about $3 a week.

The show also has Tucker being fined $5,000 for singing a double-entendre song.  But no one was being fined $5,000 (the equivalent of over $150,000 in 2024 dollars) for such an offense back then.  There were indeed times when Tucker got arrested for performing double-entendre numbers (much cleverer and subtler than the blatant, obvious one in “Last of the Red Hot Mamas”). Bayes looked upon it all as good publicity, not some great tragedy—and if there was a fine to be paid, it was part of the cost of doing business.  And you went on to the next gig. 

You don’t have to have every fact right in a show—but you can’t get this many facts wrong.   You want the show as a whole to have the ring of truth.  (Jonathan Larson’s “tick… tick… BOOM!” was presented as a work of fiction, but it got so many small details just right and captured so well the essence of his life, it rang true from start to finish in a way that “Last of the Red Hot Mamas,” at present, does not.)

* * *

The authors of “Last of the Red Hot Mamas”–address the issue of blackface inaccurately as well.  The script has Tucker, circa 1906, being “forced” by some theater manager to perform in blackface.  The script stresses that she feels really guilty about this, as if she has punched Black friends in the gut; and she then works hard to get out of having to perform in blackface.  However,  none of that rings true to the period.  The authors are inventing a Sophie Tucker who in 1906 had the pure, enlightened sensibilities of someone from 2024. But we’re all a product of our times.

 In 1906, blackface was such a commonplace part of show business, no white performers were expressing guilt over using it. Nor were any performers, white or Black, yet raising objections to it.  (Even in the mid-1930s, I might add, Bill “Bojangles” Robinson was recommending to a movie producer that a white actress appear onscreen in blackface makeup with him.)  If you’re going to write about the past, write honestly about the past.

The script repeatedly—inaccurately—describes Tucker as being forced to cover her face with black shoe polish.  Shoe polish?!?  No. She wore tan stage makeup, dressed beautifully, and sang songs written by Black songwriters (or by some white writers trying to work in a Black-created style).  Today wearing such makeup would, of course,  be considered racist.  But Tucker, performing in 1906 the Black songs that she loved, while appearing  in the stage persona of a Black woman, did not think she was doing anything unusual or offensive.  She was being advertised as a singer of Black songs  and Black-influenced songs.  (In the racist parlance of the day, she was billed as a “coon shouter” singing “coon songs.”)  One showbiz account which I find credible says she stopped using blackface  because impresario Tony Pastor, who apparently felt she did not need it, advised her to  perform as herself, without the makeup.  But Tucker never expressed any qualms about the concept of blackface, or criticized anyone back then who used it.  It was part of the times.

I understand why the authors might want to depict Sophie Tucker as feeling very guilty for ever using blackface (even though that’s not what really happened); it’s natural to want  to make the heroes of our shows appear as perfect as possible.  But audiences can handle reality, and shows are often more interesting if the complexities of human nature are acknowledged.  

The script for “Last of the Red Hot Mamas,” in its present form, depicts Tucker as wide-eyed, naïve, well-meaning throughout.  And Redmond does a good job of playing what is written in the script. 

But the real Tucker—based on conversations I’ve had over the years with people who knew her—could also be a tough cookie, whose top priority was her own career.  George Burns taught me that anyone who makes it big in show business is probably tougher and more driven than the public  persona that fans see.  He was aware—as were others who knew Sophie Tucker back then—that she started her career by walking out on a husband and son (never mentioned in Last of the Red Hot Mamas) and putting her own desire for success first.  Letting us see a bit of that burning ambition might give “Last of the Red Hot Mamas” more of an edge.

There’s a lot I love about Last of the Red Hot Mamas in its present form.  But I think it could—and should—be a much stronger show.  I hope the creators will consider making some changes, or perhaps even bring in a knowledgeable dramaturg to help, as many good writers have chosen to do.  (It made all the difference in the world, for example,  when Jonathan Larson got the assistance of a good dramaturg on “Rent.”)  

Despite its many flaws, I enjoyed “Last of the Red Hot Mamas” more than most shows I’ve seen in recent years.  I’d like to see it become the best possible show.  I’ll be following its future development with interest.

                                                            

                                                                                                                                                                                    — CHIP DEFFAA