Brian Stokes Mitchell with the Boston Pops

As part of my discovering-what's- playing-in-my-own-backyard tour, last night I took in Brian Stokes Mitchell singing with the Boston Pops. The title of the concert was "Broadway's Leading Man," which I felt was a bit presumptuous. BSM is a talented guy, but he's not the only leading man Broadway has these days.

So I have to admit I was a bit prejudiced going in, further reinforced by a conversation I had recently. When I mentioned I was going to the concert to my friend David, he said that after he saw Mitchell's self-aggrandizing curtain-call bow at the end of Ragtime, it was over for him with BSM. He even skipped the revival of Kiss Me, Kate, lest he be forced to witness the self-love fest once again.

But before we get to Mitchell's performance with the Pops, I must mention what happened during the first half of the concert. After a perfunctory tribute to Leonard Bernstein on the 90th anniversary of his birth, conductor Keith Lockhart segued into three performances by semi-finalists in the Pops' first-ever high school musical-theater sing-off. In other words, "American Idol" with showtunes. Predictably, the girl with the most vibrato and the biggest mannerisms won, giving an emotionally excessive rendition of "Being Alive." (As performed here, "Being ALLLLLLLLLLLive!!!")

So, I was feeling a mite perturbed when BSM took to the stage. Lockhart introduced Mitchell as a "legendary" performer, which made me bristle. No, Keith. Judy Garland is legendary. Brian Stokes Mitchell is sort of well-known within a very parochial group of Broadway insiders. I was reminded of Gerard Alessandrini's parody of "Wunderbar," featured in Forbidden Broadway 2001: A Spoof Odyssey.

Would-be stars
Would-be stars
[...]
But my name you'll forget
'Cuz I'm not quite famous yet

My overall reaction to Mitchell's concert set was that I wanted to climb up onto the stage and wipe the smug, self-congratulatory smile off his admittedly chiseled face. The songs he sang were mostly over-the-top show-stoppers ("Some Enchanted Evening," "Impossible Dream," "This Nearly Was Mine") mixed in with the occasional over-orchestrated standard ("How Long Has This Been Going On"), or showboating virtuoso piece ("Don't Rain on My Parade," "Tchaikovsky").

The few interesting selections (Maury Yeston's lovely "New Words," "I Was Here" from The Glorious Ones) also failed to land, mostly because of Mitchell's immodest delivery, and his propensity toward RLNS (Really Long Note Syndrome). Mitchell also did a painfully twee rendition of "It's Not That Easy Being Green," trying unsuccessfully to channel his remote youthful self, which had me squirming in my seat.

Don't get me wrong: Brian Stokes Mitchell can be a terrific performer. With the right material and a strong-armed director, he's quite an imposing and effective actor. But left to his own devices, he seems to be following in the self-indulgent steps of Mandy Patinkin.

As Guenevere says to Lancelot in Camelot: "Tell me, Milord, have you come to terms with humility lately?"