Trent Armand Kendall’s one-man cabaret-style musical Picture Incomplete, directed by Greg Ganakas and currently playing at the Laurie Beechman Theatre, sails upon the energy of its star. Incoherent, strictly speaking, as a “musical,” the material still succeeds in providing a cabaret showcase for Mr. Kendall’s many vocal and acting talents, allowing him impressive characterizations, compelling anecdotes and some wise insights.  It’s the kind of show that leaves me less interested in the work itself, than with the man performing it.

I like this guy! This is the kind of winning, unstuffy act that should prevail as a staple of the New York cabaret scene. So many cabaret acts are dominated by performers who’ve given to affectation and pretense, holding themselves as though they’re performing to the Royal Family, that seeing a performer with Mr. Kendall’s qualities ebullience, honesty, and soul - makes theatre-going a joyful and uninhibited experience.

Dramatically, sorry to report, Picture Incomplete is a bit of a mess. Its individual segments lack any semblance of focus or direction. Mr. Kendall’s act shifts randomly, blithely between songs about  homelessness to anecdotes about Muhammad Ali.  Written by Kendall, with songs by Michael Polese, it is about - if it can be said to be about anything in particular - Kendall’s life and the various amusing characters whom he’s met along the way.  His toolbox is actually quite extensive, utilizing an array of costumes and gizmos to don his many characters. He employs drag to bring to life the magnetic Mrs. Mavis, and then characterizations of a rousing pastor, a homeless fellow with whom he shared a brief connection, a subway rapper, etc.  (A brief hip-hop intro, the best number in the show, and performed to perfection by Kendall, surpasses anything that Lin-Manuel Miranda achieved in In the Heights).

These figures are never connected, however, in any meaningful way. None of the parts contribute to the whole and yet, strangely enough, these myriad, varied stories are all glued together by Trent's indomitable energy. The show, which is a “theatrical” disappointment, is in fact a “stylistic” triumph! The style could best be described, I suppose, as an amalgam of Tyler Perry, Eddie Murphy and Robin Williams. Kendall incorporates Perry’s devotion-to-character, Murphy’s joviality, and Williams’ sheer manic energy to deliver his material. Yet he does not copy the aforementioned fine comedians. His style is his own. I dare say that Trent Armand Kendall could have been up on that stage for two hours talking about 13th Century Chinese gardening and it would have produced a similarly happy and exciting effect.

Perhaps he should have spoken and sung about gardening, because that, at least, is grounded material. As is stands, I have no idea what this show really about. The many intricate characters and settings indicate a work of lofty ambitions, but the nature of those ambitions is never clearly conveyed. The show has no definable theme.  Kendall has a point that he’s trying to make and he never makes it. The show’s title, Picture Incomplete, is derived from some sort of ham-handed notion of not judging people based on their appearances and that there’s more-to-people-than-meets-the-eye sort of thing. Oh brother, we’ve all heard that before. I don’t buy that for one second, really. Most people are exactly how their pictures present them. Confusing songs revolve around his looking up popular phrases and words in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, and about his coming to terms with his sexual identity. Oddly enough, the audience with whom I watched this show responded strongly and enthusiastically to all of the songs, many of which were incomprehensible. I think I can explain this phenomenon. I recently watched an interview with Carl Reiner on “The Tonight Show,” where that great comedian talked about bringing a Shakespearean audience to their feet after ad-libing Shakespeare’s dialogue, stalling as another actor made his entrance. Reiner spilled out gibberish, resembling nothing of Shakespeare’s, but performed it in such a way that his audience felt they were witnessing mastery. In a way they were; the mastery of a comedic salesman. The same thing happened here! I recognized some of these songs as gobbledygook, but Mr. Kendall performed them with such Newtonian force, and with such terrific vocal prowess, that the audience was swept up into the belief that they were great. Trent is a wonderful singer. Some people just have those Irish-coffee voices: soothing enough to loosen and relax, and yet imbued with an energy-jolt that compels rapt attention. I’d ordered a salad during the show, and I was compelled, at times, to hold the lettuce in my mouth without chewing for fear that the crunches would interfere with hearing his voice.

One bouncy song, in particular, about his coming “out of the closet,” revealing his homosexuality to his family, strangely entitled “Walk-in Closet,” was blissfully nonsensical. “I built a walk-in closet with lots of room to spare, so all my friends and family could move on in right there. I thought I was progressing, and now life would begin  but it wasn’t so much that I came out, that everybody else came in.” See? The lyrics don’t mean anything, but you couldn’t tell that at all if you were in the theater. He encouraged the audience to sing along; I didn’t sing along, but I was having a good time, all the same. His outrageous dancing - if you can picture it, he’s a heavy-set fellow doing high kicks and gyrating hip motions - is simply captivating.  He was just having too much damn fun! And, well, “when in Rome,” as they say.

Mr. Kendall is aided in this terrific deception by his three-man band - pianist Adam Klipple, drummer Brian Floody and electric bassist Chris Tarry, who provide the music and sound effects for the shows many strange musical sequences, and who brought the audience – myself included - to boisterous applause with their only speaking-lines as they helped Trent to reenact a Folgers Coffee commercial.  Credit director Ganakas for having the foresight to allow the musicians those one-line gems. (Explaining the context of why a Folgers Coffee  commercial is lampooned in Mr. Kendall’s show is a little bit too intricate for this review. I just don’t have the space…really, I’ve said too much, already) Trent’s comedy is terrific, but his dramatic forays don’t come across as well.  He is simply too heavy-handed, at times.  Being overly dramatic and employing social messages within the context of a cabaret style musical is always a losing gambit.  One can fight for the most righteous cause and still not impress a New York crowd that’s just looking for a good time on a Monday winter-evening.  New Yorkers are so aware of social issues, anyhow, that their being drudged up in a cabaret musical is extraneous and unwanted.

Oh, but there are so many things he pulls off so well!  His interpretation of that Folgers Coffee commercial is priceless. His interpretation of a motivational preacher is infectious. Towards the end of the show, his “Righteous Reverend” roused the audience in such a way that a beautiful girl, who happened to be sitting next to me, ended up giving me a loving, almost sensual hug. That just doesn’t usually happen in the theatre.  (It should, though, if you ask me). This was a unique experience, and ultimately I’ll remember it fondly not only for the rousing moments, but for the unusual way in which its many flaws are surmounted by the singular overwhelming vigor of Trent Armand Kendall