The story of the friendship between vaudeville stars Bert Williams and Eddie Cantor is one the general public isn’t familiar with. On the surface, the two characters—a 40-ish African American on the downside of his career and a young Jewish singer/comedian just starting out—appear to be diametrically opposed. Their trueto-life friendship sparked the well-intentioned but disappointing “Bert ’n’ Eddie,” a show by Dick DeBenedictis playing a monthlong engagement at Conejo Players Theatre.

Bert Williams (1874–1922) and Eddie Cantor (1892–1964) met in 1917 while both were blackface performers in the “Ziegfeld Follies,” Florenz Ziegfeld’s annual extravaganza of broad comedy, lavish production numbers and beautifully coiffed showgirls.

Williams became the toast of New York after teaming up with George Walker in 1893. They worked together until 1909, when Williams went solo and became the American stage’s first African American superstar. Despite his success, he aspired to loftier goals, striving to escape the degrading minstrel circuit and go into serious drama.

Enter Eddie Cantor, a songand-dance man just beginning his career. Williams showed him the ropes, and the duo spent three years with the Follies, much of it as a team in blackface, which is when much of the musical takes place.

The detailed research that went into “Bert ’n’ Eddie” is apparent. Signature routines, such as Williams’ “Woodman, Woodman, Spare That Tree” and Cantor’s “Ma! She’s Making Eyes at Me,” are featured in marvelous production numbers, but the show suffers from DeBenedictis’ stilted, cliché-ridden script and his clumsy and unmemorable songs, which pale in comparison to the tried-and-true classics from vaudeville’s glory days.

There are noteworthy exceptions. Act II opens with a lovely instrumental titled “Cakewalk,” featuring an atmospheric dance by Williams and Walker.

Too many issues are introduced in the show, with none sufficiently developed. One of those is Cantor’s leading role in establishing Actor’s Equity, a union created to force dictatorial producers like Ziegfeld (whose name the actors all mispronounce as “Ziegfield”) to treat performers fairly. Williams’ encounters with racism are represented, but cast aside as other plot devices intervene. Thirty-three scene changes result in a disjointed, episodic production.

There is no sense of drama or continuity, and DeBenedictis’ stodgy, tedious book made more than one audience member check their watch during the show.

None of this, however, is the fault of the intrepid Conejo Players, who do their best to turn this sow’s ear of a show into a silk purse. Larry J. Robinson is often riveting as Bert Williams, especially in the Rodney Dangerfield-like “Nobody,” a half-spoken, half-sung, wry monologue that became Williams’ biggest hit.

As Eddie Cantor, Mischa Pollack has a terrific voice but lacks the manic energy that typified Cantor’s routines. Andrew Brasted is a wonderful W.C. Fields, another Ziegfeld performer who was just developing his monologues of booze and shrewish-wife jokes. (The vintage Fields lines drew most of the laughs in the show.)

It was Fields who said that Williams was “the funniest man I ever saw and the saddest man I ever knew.”

Also excellent are Cheridah Best as Williams’ devoted wife, Lottie, and Kamahni Huck as the phantasm of the deceased George Walker.

Despite its shortcomings, “Bert ’n’ Eddie” is worth seeing for its many impressive performances. Overall, it’s a good idea with faulty execution. The lives of these important and fascinating vaudevillians deserve better.

“Bert ’n’ Eddie” plays through Dec. 12 at Conejo Players Theatre, 351 S. Moorpark Road.

For more information, visit www.conejoplayers.org.