There is much for both generations to enjoy. The musical takes place in the 1930s during Prohibition. Both Jerry and Sugar Kane are Black, and Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators travel cross-country to California, not Florida, because, as Lopez and Ruffin’s book clearly states, that would not be possible at the time.
“In writing this comedy, we had to be really truthful,” Ruffin says. “A lot of minorities and all women traveling through America at this time…we had to tell the truth. It wouldn’t have been perfect at every turn, so we did have to be more honest about what was happening to these women. It couldn’t possibly have gone down this trouble-free.”
Played by Adrianna Hicks, last seen on Broadway as Catherine of Aragon in Six, this Sugar Kane is distinctly different from the bruised bombshell Monroe created, who “always got the fuzzy end of the lollipop.” Hicks’s Sugar is no victim. She may regret moments in her past, but she owns them, and she’s planning for her future—which she hopes will land her on the silver screen in Hollywood.
“It’s always dicey to write a Black character that’s not in a Black show, because you wonder how honest you can be while dodging every stereotype,” Ruffin says. “It was scary at first, but then I personally realized that the rest of the show is so honest that she can be exactly who she is. She can be flawed, and it’s fine. She can be a Black woman who is late, and it’s fine. We made this show honest in that there’s a lot of safety where people can be regular people instead of shining beacons of good examples of Black America.”
The character of Jerry/Daphne, played by nonbinary Black actor J. Harrison Ghee, is also opened up. Their relationship with themselves and their identity is deepened, as is their romance with impassioned suitor Osgood (Kevin Del Aguila), who falls for Daphne at first sight. Their courtship, a few brief moments in the film, is a moving scene of honest connection.
Finding that harmony—between earnest honesty and zany comedy, honoring the source material and reshaping it for today’s theatergoers—was a balancing act for the Ruffin-Lopez writing team, which strove to fit meaningful dialogue between chaotic chase scenes packed with tap dancing and romantic ballroom duets performed by ensembles in tuxedos and sparkling gowns.
“We knew that this show could never feel like ‘eat your vegetables.’ It always had to operate as a musical comedy. How do we make something that’s honest but that’s entertainment?” Lopez asks. “Sometimes we would veer—it got too honest and it stopped being fun, and then sometimes it got too much fun and it just sort of defied the logic. A lot of it was just trying to strike the balance.”
That effort hasn’t curtailed Ruffin’s excitement about the show. Accustomed to being the one singing and dancing, she easily admits to longing to join the cast members in their performance.
“You’ve got to stop Amber from jumping on that stage,” Lopez warns.
“I’m too fast. I cannot be stopped,” Ruffin says. “I’m singing it all the time. I am in the show in my mind. I’m just sitting further away from the stage than everyone else.”