Eight years ago, Jonathan Groff’s friend Ted Chapin took him to see Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 and then to dinner at Orso. Over dinner, Chapin—who was producing the “Lyrics and Lyricists” series at the 92nd Street Y at the time—asked if Groff might want to perform in an upcoming show featuring the songs of Bobby Darin.

That question sent Groff down a YouTube rabbit hole as he watched clip after clip of the genre-defying singer-songwriter. Growing up in Pennsylvania, Groff had heard Darin’s hits like “Mack the Knife” and “Splish Splash,” but he hadn’t realized they were by the same artist—and he wasn’t sure he could capture Darin’s energy and versatility.

“I was completely taken by Bobby’s primal ferocity, even in these old black-and-white performance clips,” Groff tells Vogue. “There was a real presence and passion. He wasn’t just a rock-and-roll guy or a crooner singing songs. There was a genuine connection in his performance style.”

When he finally decided to do the concert, Groff began exploring his own connection to Darin. Inspired by the immersive experience of Natasha and the club-like atmosphere of Here Lies Love at the Public Theater, he reached out to director Alex Timbers and started working on what would become Just in Time, which opened on Broadway Wednesday night at the Circle in the Square Theatre.

To prepare for the role, Groff—who won a Tony for last season’s acclaimed revival of Merrily We Roll Along—learned to play both drums and piano and took 10 weeks of dance lessons with choreographer Shannon Lewis, making her Broadway debut with the show. But unlike a typical jukebox musical, Just in Time doesn’t ask Groff to lose his own charm. Instead, he introduces himself as the performer audiences know and love, then slips in and out of Darin’s persona.

“I knew I wanted to start the show as myself and break the fourth wall to create that connection Bobby was famous for—the feeling that we’re all here together in this moment, and anything can happen,” Groff says. “I wanted to evoke this love affair between performer and audience, and that’s where the heart of the show comes from.”

Groff’s dream of channeling the golden age of the Copacabana (Darin’s favorite venue) came to life at Wednesday’s performance. His best friend Lea Michele sat front and center at the cabaret tables in the intimate, nightclub-style theater, even dancing with him during the curtain call. Around her were his Merrily co-stars Daniel Radcliffe, Lindsay Mendez, and Katie Rose Clarke, along with former Hamilton castmates Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo. The after-party at Guastavino’s on the Upper East Side drew guests like LaChanze, Grey Henson, and Kevin Cahoon, who danced the night away to a live band with Donna Murphy.

But a week before all that, Groff spoke with Vogue about his connection to Bobby Darin. Below are edited excerpts from their conversation.

Vogue: Was there a particular moment during your YouTube deep dive that convinced you could embody him?

Jonathan Groff: There’s a clip of him singing “Once Upon a Time” that I remember watching that night—and I wouldn’t even call it acting, because it wasn’t like he was performing. It was so deeply felt. He wasn’t just singing a song on a TV show; he was communicating something profound. Seeing that was incredible. Then, in his later years, he’d do these duets with women like Dusty Springfield and Petula Clark on his TV specials, and they would… [text continues]They sit on stools and sing with their faces close together. He was so intimate and present—I remember being completely drawn in by that.

If you close your eyes and listen, where does this music take you?
Honestly, it feels magical. There’s a quote in his son Dodd’s book about Bobby being a nightclub animal, at the peak of his powers onstage, and performing this music—especially in such an intimate setting—really is a transcendent experience. There’s another clip I love of Bobby and George Burns doing a sand dance to I Ain’t Got Nobody. You can see the connection between their generations, and it’s beautiful. It reminds me of Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett—how a modern pop star can connect with, respect, and be inspired by someone from an earlier era.

When we play this music live, the sound of our big jazz band transports me. It takes me to another time, another place. The energy is electric. Some audience members grew up with his music, and you can feel them melting into the moment. Often, when I start singing certain songs—like Beyond the Sea—the crowd erupts in applause. It’s incredible to stand there, singing that music, feeling like you’re channeling something bigger.

But then, a few nights ago, there was an eight-year-old girl in the front row, completely mesmerized. Why? She didn’t grow up listening to Dream Lover. But Bobby was obsessed with the audience, with being the ultimate entertainer—there’s something in this music that makes it irresistible, whether you’re performing or just listening.

What’s the closest you’ve come to that classic, Barbra-at-the-Bon-Soir nightclub experience as an audience member?
That album is an obsession of mine. I’m living out my fantasy here—watching those old clips of Barbra on The Judy Garland Show or Dinah Shore, just her, a simple set, and a phenomenal song, telling a story. That’s what Bobby did too. For me, this is a dream come true.

What have you noticed about the songs Bobby wrote?
They’re deeply autobiographical. Splish Splash was him chasing a hit—rock and roll was big at the time. The story goes that he was at DJ Murray the K’s house when Murray’s mom called and said, I’ve got a song title for Bobby: ‘Splish splash, take a bath.’ Bobby supposedly wrote that novelty song in 15 minutes. Early in his career, he wrote jingles like a savant—he could sit at a piano and just spin out songs.

Things is this bouncy tune about his breakup with Sandra Dee. 18 Yellow Roses hints at his folk era, but it’s also literal—he sent 18 yellow roses every day to Sandra’s mom to win her over before sending them to Sandra herself. Rainin’ came after he learned a family secret [that the woman he thought was his sister was actually his mother, and his grandmother had raised him]. He often paired dark, intense themes with upbeat rhythms—like Mack the Knife. That contrast makes it feel dangerous and special.

And then there’s Songs From Big Sur—it doesn’t even sound like him. It was his Cowboy Carter moment, a total genre flip. You can feel so much of himself in it.Here’s the rewritten text in clear, natural English:

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Expression and evolving cultural connections in his music.
I don’t see many artists releasing covers these days. Do you think we’re missing something because of that?

That’s an interesting point. The first example that comes to mind is Adele’s cover of Bob Dylan’s Make You Feel My Love, but you’re right—it’s not as common now. What I love about Bobby Darin is how he embraced the past and aspired to greatness. He immersed himself in the work of legends before him, and our show captures that impulse.

You see this same energy in artists like Lady Gaga collaborating with Tony Bennett, or Beyoncé paying tribute to Diana Ross (Love Hangover on the Renaissance tour) and Etta James. Even her performance of The Way We Were at Barbra Streisand’s Kennedy Center tribute was powerful. It’s moving when modern artists honor the greats while making it their own. Take Sabrina Carpenter sharing that moment with Dolly Parton—there’s still a spark of that reverence today.

That’s what we’re aiming for with Bobby Darin. We didn’t want a biopic that feels like a museum piece. It should feel alive, not nostalgic. Gracie Lawrence’s portrayal of Connie Francis is a perfect example—she’s not impersonating her but honoring her essence while bringing her own timeless talent. That balance is key to the show’s tone.

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Playing an entertainer with a deep audience connection—is this your most charisma-driven role yet?
I wanted to bring my own self to it. From the start, the project demanded that. Bobby Darin’s voice changed constantly—he was a chameleon, which lets us take a theatrical, expressive approach to his story. His life was marked by urgency; he had a heart condition, was in and out of hospitals, and died at 37. That intensity made his performances transcendent.

What mattered most wasn’t the style or song but the magic he created in the moment. Even Mack the Knife sounded different every time he sang it, yet unmistakably his. That’s what I’m channeling: by tapping into myself, I’m honoring Bobby’s spirit and the present. The audience isn’t just watching a re-creation of a 1959 Copa show—they’re part of the experience here and now, at Circle in the Square in 2025, living his story with us.

(Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)