Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

HAREM GLOBETROTTER  Tow Hewitt, center, entertains the ladies.

Lately, it seems you can’t walk down Broadway without tripping over celluloid. For every original new musical, there’s a Legally Blonde or Footloose playing just down the street. That’s not automatically a bad thing (exhibit A: The Producers), but only if you pick the right property and understand that Broadway translation doesn’t mean simply jamming in a few random tunes (exhibit B: The Wedding Singer).

In musicalizing the 1988 Steve Martin/Michael Caine comedy about two competing con men in a Mediterranean resort town, Lane and Yazbek navigate both straits with ease. Scoundrels makes a surprisingly good musical—due in no small part to Lane’s laugh-out-loud book (one of the funniest in recent memory) and Yazbek’s catchy, jazzy tunes and überwitty lyrics. Building on the movie’s lush musicality (go back and watch it; you’ll be surprised how dense the underscoring is), they’ve produced a grown-up comic strip of a show, laced with naughty jokes and wonderfully terrible puns. (“I’m Muriel of Omaha.” “Pleased to meet you.” “It’s mutual.”) The one disappointment of this touring venture is the Auditorium’s sound system, which muddles some of the best lines; with lyrics as good as these, you really don’t want to miss a word.

If you’re a Broadway buff, you might be disappointed that original stars John Lithgow and Norbert Leo Butz aren’t touring. Don’t be. Hewitt eschews Lithgow’s “look at me” neediness in favor of a more Barrymore-esque suavity, and while we may miss Butz’s anarchic crassness, Bonds’s lower-key take allows the show’s unexpected sweetness to shine. They’re also willing to give focus to their leading ladies—a move we’re grateful for, considering the razor-sharp comic and vocal chops of Duncan’s Cincinnati “soap queen” and Resnick’s jaded socialite. With a con like this, we’re happy to be had.—Kay Daly