By TOM SIME / The Dallas Morning News

     The Billy Wilder movie comedy Some Like It Hot can't really be improved upon, but as variations on a theme go, the musical version is sheer pleasure even in its redundancy.

     Some Like It Hot began its second life in 1972, just 13 years after the film, with a new score by Jule Styne and lyrics by Bob Merrill. Sugar did OK that first time out, but it's been revamped for the touring version that opened at Fair Park Music Hall on Tuesday, with the original movie's star, Tony Curtis, along for the ride.

     A restored title, a few new songs, a couple of dirtier jokes, lots of delicious choreography and an array of terrific sets lay the groundwork, and an excellent cast brings it all to life. This is a good old-fashioned musical comedy, unabashedly frothy and skillfully sleek as directed and choreographed by Dan Siretta.

MILTON HINNANT / DMN -photo credit
Singing and dancing may try the talents of Tony Curtis (center),
but Some Like It Hot wouldn't be the same without him.

     It's 1929. Saxman Joe (Arthur Hanket) and bassist Jerry (Timothy Gulan) have witnessed a mob hit and are marked for death by the gangster Spats (William Ryall). They somehow pull together a plus-size wardrobe and disguise themselves as women – Josephine and Daphne – to join the all-girl band conducted by Sweet Sue (Lenora Nemetz). But it's hard to keep up the ruse when both men lust after the band's singer, Sugar Kane (Jodi Carmeli).

The band gets a gig in Miami, where Joe/Josephine takes on yet another alter ego, a millionaire who's just Sugar's type, to woo the singer; meanwhile Daphne catches the eye of the real thing, Osgood Fielding III (Mr. Curtis). But Spats is hot on the trail of the witnesses.

The leading men aren't great singers, but their comic skills, particularly Mr. Gulan's, are top-notch. Ms. Carmeli is ravishing; her Marilyn Monroe impersonation is flawless, and this Sugar has a full-bodied voice to match the curves.

Ms. Nemetz also has great pipes; her sound is big and delightfully husky. Mr. Ryall's villain is a pip, and Mr. Siretta has devised an inspired "theme" for him: Whenever Spats and his henchmen are about, they tap dance menacingly; furiously when their tommy guns are blazing.

Mr. Curtis is another matter. He's there for marquee value and is barely functional as a singer-dancer. But there's a little smirk to his performance that seems to say: "Hey, I know I'm in over my head. But this is my baby, baby, so onna da fodda."

E-mail   tsime@dallasnews.com