RALEIGH -- Marketing the off-Broadway hit "Altar Boyz" is difficult. A musical comedy about a Christian boy-band brings up a number of questions. Is it strictly religious or does it make fun of religion? Is there a story or is it like a concert? Is it geared to preteens only or is it accessible for adults?
Such questions might be responsible for some empty seats at Raleigh Little Theatre on Saturday night during the opening weekend. Those on the fence about attending, however, can rest assured: The show is funny, family-friendly and not sacrilegious. Raleigh Little Theatre's winning cast and highly polished presentation should send audiences home smiling and entertained.
Music and lyric writers Gary Adler and Michael Patrick Walker, along with scriptwriter Kevin del Aguila, have managed the nearly impossible. The show gently spoofs soul-saving via showbiz, offers mildly naughty jokes about temptations of celebrity and makes loving fun of certain religious practices, all without disrespect or hurtful intent. The amiable material is often only blandly amusing or lightly engaging, but the performers and staging provide strong compensation.
The premise has the five Altar Boyz performing in their "Raise the Praise" tour, intent on making sure everyone's soul has been cleansed by concert's end. They calculate this with their Soul Sensor, a machine that counts those yet to be saved after each song. This whimsical device drives the thin plot, as the group keeps pouring on high-powered vocals and flashy choreography to up that number.
Amid the fun song parodies ("God put the rhythm in me," "Jesus called me on my cell phone"), we learn about each performer. Lead singer Matthew (Jason Cooper) is a gung-ho rap artist; Mark (Tyler Betts Rollins), the sweet-voiced, sensitive one; Luke (James Ilsley), a streetwise former druggie; Juan (Jon Skinner), the quietly sultry Latino, and Abraham (Matt Gromlich), the bouncy Jewish guy (go figure!).
These five put out an incredible amount of energy, singing persuasively and gyrating confidently through complex and varied moves provided by Freddie-Lee Heath. The four-piece band easily switches from rock to rap to Mexican pop under Julie A. Florin's expert guidance.
The band is wrapped within Rick Young's tri-level set, complete with lighting grid, video screen and fog machine, adeptly mimicking rock concert ambience. Director Haskell Fitz-Simons keeps things lively and finds the right balance of comedy and sincerity.
The amplified music doesn't get uncomfortable, but the actors' head mics emit variable levels and often-muffled sound, blunting some punch lines and clever lyrics. Otherwise, this is one of RLT's most professional presentations, worthy of nightly sold out houses.
