Review: Sugar Ray Robinson’s Bouts and Biography, With a Bite Thrown In

I’ve never formally met Reginald L. Wilson. But if I see him on the street, it will be tough not to give him a bro-hug. Indeed, even though he portrays a hard-hitting fighter in “Sugar Ray,” this friendly actor exudes warmth, and that helps make a fairly good play quite a bit better.

A one-man show about Sugar Ray Robinson, “Sugar Ray” packs a lot into 75 minutes. Embodying that former champion, Mr. Wilson recounts the boxer’s teenage years, his womanizing, his marriages, his major bouts, his retirement and his eventual comeback.

The play is primarily anecdotes and casual storytelling, and would be far less successful if done on a traditional stage. But the location here is a character in itself: the New Harlem Besame restaurant, the former site of Robinson’s own restaurant and business offices, on a section of Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard that’s been renamed Sugar Ray Robinson Way.

Mr. Wilson holds court in front of, and sometimes amid, the restaurant tables, occasionally ad-libbing in response to audience members and commenting on fight films that are projected onto a screen. As directed by Woodie King Jr., from a script by Laurence Holder, he tells the tales with an ever-present smile and only a few props.

Though I worry about viewers unfamiliar with Robinson’s career — it helps to have a general knowledge of Jake LaMotta, Joe Louis and other fighters of the era to appreciate the stories fully — Mr. Holder’s breezy script is otherwise easy to follow. Early scenes in which Robinson (1921-1989) recalls his mother and a late one where he remembers a conversation with Muhammad Ali are especially touching.

“Sugar Ray” is at its best during those reflections, and while a tighter story line (and some nuance) would be welcome, the structure allows Mr. Wilson to hold the floor with ease. (Dinner after the show is included with the $49 ticket price; I’ll do double duty as restaurant critic here and recommend the tilapia with peppers.)

At the end of Mr. Holder’s script, we experience only a little sorrow for the champ, despite his constant money problems and his early death. That’s partly because seeing a life this full makes it easy to feel happy for Robinson, and partly because an actor this upbeat makes it hard to feel sad.