‘Jolson’ Is Mostly a Whitewash Without the Offending Blackface

“The minute the curtain rang down, he died.”

So wrote show-biz rival and offstage pal Eddie Cantor about Al Jolson. Jolson’s chemical dependency on applause turned his performance attack into an all-out performance offensive. You look in those wild eyes, in photographs or in his crazily excessive film work, and you don’t see the joy of performing; you see the fear of not being able to.

“Jolson,” the musical, barely scratches this tantalizing surface. It’s too bad, because Mike Burstyn’s Jolson is very good. Especially when singing, Burstyn suggests something of Jolson’s sociopathic intensity. He sounds eerily like Jolson on up-tempo rousers (“Toot, Toot, Tootsie!”) as well as on April showers of sentimentality (“My Mammy”).

Burstyn is the whole show, which is handy, since “Jolson” itself is barely there. A charismatic phenomenon--born Asa Yoelson, the cantor’s son--has been handed a dull, unfocused stage hagiography.

Like it or not, you think Jolson and you think blackface. To hear “Jolson” tell it, Jolson’s blackface act--honed in years of minstrelsy and vaudeville--was merely an unfortunate gimmick he could barely stomach. The show’s so squeamish about associating Jolson with the long, unnerving tradition of “blacking up,” it ducks the whole issue. Early on we see Burstyn half-made up, just before he angrily wipes the makeup from his face. It’s an unconvincing attempt to bend the historical perspective and sidestep a land mine.

Jolson’s marriage to Ruby Keeler (Heather Mazur, a better tapper than Keeler was) is run through the usual cliche mill. He’s devoted to his work, you see. (Jolson’s alleged womanizing is barely hinted at; that he once gave Keeler a black eye is ignored.) It’s all about Jolie, Jolie, Jolie. Jolie’s manager “Eppy” (Harry A. Winter, likable in a pancake-flat role) serves as irritated but admiring straight man to his egomaniacal client. Jolie’s bandleader, Harry (Kenny Morris, the supporting cast standout), plays a variation on the same.

Director Bill Castellino and choreographer Joey McKneely can only do so much with Francis Essex and Rob Bettinson’s libretto. Burstyn can do a lot more with Jolson’s signature hits. “Jolson” comes to life only when Burstyn gets in touch with his inner Jolie, flashes that beacon of enamel and goes in for the kill.

The show comes from the folks who made “Buddy--The Buddy Holly Story,” a similarly unseasoned treatment of a legend. Both shows found audiences in their originating city of London, where (astonishingly) “Jolson” won the Olivier Award for best new musical.

To its credit “Jolson” hints occasionally at its subject’s demons, more so at least than did the 1946 film “The Jolson Story” or its sequel, “Jolson Sings Again.” But a strong and provocative subject has, literally, been whitewashed. The show is terrified of coming off as racist, and so it risks very little. To make a really good musical about Jolson and the milieu that spawned him, you’d have to dive straight into the touchy stuff--the miserable racial stereotypes perpetuated by blackface routines, the effects of which lingered far into the century.

Burstyn recently headlined in the flop musical “Ain’t Broadway Grand,” portraying impresario Mike Todd. That’s twice now the actor has gotten stuck in boring musicals about show-biz titans who were many things, but never boring.

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* “Jolson,” Pasadena Civic Auditorium, 300 E. Green St., Pasadena. Tonight and Friday, 8 p.m.; Saturday, 2 and 8 p.m.; Sunday, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Ends Oct. 31. $21-$56. (213) 365-3500. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.

Mike Burstyn: Al Jolson

Heather Mazur: Ruby Keeler

Harry A. Winter: Louis Epstein

Kenny Morris: Harry Akst

Jeff Richards: Frankie Holmes

Written by Francis Essex and Rob Bettinson. Directed by Bill Castellino. Choreographed by Joey McKneely. Musical director Art Yelton. Sets by James Fouchard. Costumes by Bruce Harrow. Lighting by John McLain. Production stage manager Daniel L. Bello.