To add to this concept of a nice show in the wrong house, ushers seated people haphazardly, not adequately checking their ticket stubs, and then brought latecomers continually throughout act one to seats that were occupied (hence, heated discussions ensued). Bored audience members made loud comments to each other. Maybe it was a bad night for hearing aids. My favorites were the two dames behind me, who kept arguing about whether Kirk Taylor was white or black. Now that's what I call clueless. Let's even ignore the concept that the race of a performer is irrelevant to his performance. But in this case, if you understood the point of the show and the origin of this type of music, the question could not be asked.
After suffering through two long acts of Five Guys Named Moe, a musical that would never be classed as brilliant, but could have been mo' fun at a hotter spot, I emerged from the Gleason with one odd thought. Maybe Dade needs that county performing arts center after all.