Review: ‘44,’ a musical satire about Barack Obama by one of his campaign insiders, cuts up at the Kirk Douglas

“44 the Musical,” an affectionate spoof of the Barack Obama White House years, had its premiere at the Bourbon Room Hollywood in 2022. The show has returned to L.A. for a run at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, but don’t let the higher profile theatrical address fool you: This fringe-style show still wants theatergoers to metaphorically get their drink on.

Audience members are encouraged to make some noise as they fall into the R&B groove of a musical overflowing with captivating voices. Tops among them is T.J. Wilkins, who lends Barack Obama a smoky timbre as seductive as the patented sounds of Teddy Pendergrass and Marvin Gaye.

Shanice (one name will do for this singing talent) gives Michelle Obama the feisty warmth of a Faith Evans singing her truth. Rest assured Shanice’s Michelle will tell Barack how she feels — without worrying in the least whether he can handle her straight talk.

Chad Doreck plays Joe Biden, the show’s narrator, whose “hazy” version of events give the show’s creator, Eli Bauman, a TV writer who worked on Obama’s campaign, a vehicle for getting into the nation’s first Black president’s private business. (If someone doesn’t feel comfortable with a white artist imagining Barack and Michelle’s sexy talk after hours at the White House, you can put the blame on poor Joe.)

Doreck’s portrayal begins with a shuffling gait, sending up in “Saturday Night Live”-style Biden’s geriatric decline. Trim and perversely puppyish, the character doesn’t let age keep him down for long. When the music erupts, he’s the first to show off his moves, regardless of whether he’s even welcome in the scene.

The show’s baddies — Larry Cedar’s pony-tailed good ol’ boy Mitch McConnell, Michael Uribes’ snarling Ted Cruz, Jane Papageorge’s pole-dancing Sarah Palin and Jeff Sumner’s parasol-twirling Lindsey Graham — have banded together to thwart Obama’s presidency at every turn. Herman Cain (Dino Shorté) is conscripted into WHAM (White, Heterosexual, Affluent Men) as the token Black representative of this group of right-wing loonies. He can’t figure out what he’s doing there either, but he galvanizes the show with a version of Prince’s “Purple Rain” retitled “Herman Cain” and ultimately proves that he’s nobody’s puppet.

The music, under the lively music direction of Anthony “Brew” Brewster, is enjoyably derivative. Bauman’s score made me imagine a musical theater software program that would take R&B hits and recombine them into new tunes.

The effect is like karaoke only with a live band, original material and professionals who can really sing, such as Summer Nicole Greer, who serves as the Voice of the People. Perhaps the most memorable number is the one with an unprintable title that invites the audience to flip off Ted Cruz.

Chad Doreck, T.J. Wilkins and Jenna Pastuszek in “44 the Musical.”

(Bella Marie Adams)

There’s an ephemerality to the theatrical experience. The jokey, gleefully profane lyrics are stimulating in the moment but then quickly forgotten, like novelty songs in a clever college cabaret. Even Bauman’s funniest musical bits get swallowed in the show’s frothy, frolicsome relentlessness.

Sometimes the humor is a little cringey. I’m the last person to defend Sarah Palin, but the misogyny of the stripper caricature seemed excessive. So too was the grudge-bearing, Obama-frenemy cartoon of Hillary Clinton (Jenna Pastuszek). Everybody is a target, it’s true, but some parodies land better than others.

The real problem of “44 the Musical,” though, is its overstretched nature. In his writing, composing and staging, Bauman doesn’t know when enough is enough. The show is a species of pub theater, but somewhere along the way it seems to have convinced itself that it could be the next “Hamilton.”

The sprightly production design is set up for rapid transit, but the traffic on stage isn’t in any hurry. It was nearly three hours with opening night delays before I emerged from my seat for a musical that should be half that length.

The comedy can’t help but grow stale left out so long. The hardworking ensemble never quits. Doreck’s Joe, the show’s secret weapon, slingshots across the stage. But exhilaration runs neck and neck with exhaustion.

Wilkins’ Barack gives “44” a soul. Shanice’s Michelle gives the musical a spine. Cedar’s Mitch gives the story a wily villain with freaky dance moves.

But what a strange, tumultuous, unjoyful moment it is to encounter this winking recap of our 44th president’s political journey. Nostalgia for a president whose greatest sins were expanding healthcare access and wearing a tan suit is a luxury we can ill afford at the moment.