Eating It Up

The place is gaudy, glittery, operatic and brimming with busloads of blue-haired ladies from the local retirement home — practically the living definition of America’s 20th-century fascination with continental culture. But that’s just the tip of the veal parmigiana at the deliciously funky Great Caruso Dinner Theater, located on the western edge of the city, where entertainment usually means a trip to the megaplex or a chain restaurant. One Mo’ Time, the theater’s latest production, is not only one of the yummiest things going in Houston entertainment but also one of the coolest juxtapositions of cultures in town.

More than a year ago, Anthony Boggess-Glover demonstrated his musical mettle, starring in Caruso’s brassy production of Ain’t Misbehavin’ (see “Delicious Dinner Theater,” January 20, 2000). Now serving as both director and cast member of One Mo’ Time, the soulful singer proves that he’s got mo’ than one trick up his formidable sleeve. He’s turned the antiquated charm of the suburban dinner theater into a black vaudeville stage, circa 1920, then filled the place with a sexy song-and-dance revue from the jazz era of Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith and Bill “Bojangles” Robinson.

As conceived by Vernel Bagneris, the action happens over the course of one night at the once-famous Lyric Theatre in New Orleans. Boggess-Glover is Papa Du, manager of Bertha Williams’s traveling show, which tours courtesy of TOBA, otherwise known as the Theatre Owners’ Booking Agency (or Tough on Black Asses, as the performers, who are often scammed out of their paychecks, call it). Onto the stage struts Boggess-Glover’s astonishing cast. Three gorgeous gals make up the heart of One Mo’ Time, and as played by this trio of sassy, sizzling singers, they couldn’t be more vibrant.

Samantha Cochran, as the big and beautiful Ma Reed, has a soulfully heartbroken voice that can slide right down inside you and make you weep for every love you’ve ever lost, especially in bluesy tunes like “After You’ve Gone.” At the head of the traveling show is Big Bertha, played with a regal snap by Donna Wilkerson-Stewart. She captures all the rueful, naughty ironies and double entendres in old standards such as “Kitchen Man” and “You’ve Got the Right Key But the Wrong Keyhole.” And with those great big pipes, she can make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Last, but certainly not least, is the sinfully sexy ingenue who slinks through this show in tight skirts and high heels. Aisha Ussery’s limber Thelma, squeezed into a red-fringed dress, shimmers with electricity in “Wait Till You See My Baby Do the Charleston.” The combination of Aaron Callies’s joyful choreography and Ussery’s long limbs is magical, and Ussery’s voice has a big and bouncy personality all its own.

These tunes slide easily from one to another under Lydia Alston’s dead-on musical direction. The phrasing is perfect, and the tempo pushes forward organically. Even the moments when Big Bertha’s cast wanders backstage are sophisticated and lively, thanks to Boggess-Glover’s direction. They crack wise with sage words to live by, as when Ma Reed tells us, “Blessed are those that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed.”

The shift be-tween backstage and center stage — movement that could have been enormously difficult given the space limitations at the Great Caruso — is handled with surprising elegance. With Vassili Magazis’s smart, simple set, a scrim comes down between tunes, revealing the rough-and-tumble dressing room world of vaudeville.

This foot-stomping, hand-clapping, stand-up-and-dance show is simply a joy. At the performance I attended, even the blue-haired ladies bounced up to the edge of the stage to boogie-woogie with the cast.