By Christopher Rawson,
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Drama Critic

     If we accept the concept of a tribute band, then why not a tribute musical?

     That's "Some Like It Hot," the musical version of the brilliant 1959 Billy Wilder movie comedy which opened last night at Heinz Hall. It's really a tweaked version of the 1972 Jule Styne-Bob Merrill musical "Sugar," but whereas that adopted a new name to appear new, this frankly puts its mouth where its money is. And to make its tributary nature doubly clear, it brings along as good luck totem the movie's Tony Curtis, transposed into the role of Osgood, the elderly millionaire.

     At first, you wonder why. Osgood doesn't appear until late in Act 1, which ought to whet anticipation, but his eventual entrance is anti-climactic and Curtis himself seems unsure why he's there. More wooden totem pole than totem, he starts as though he were corseted, making you nervous he won't recall his next lyric before the musical moment passes.

     But maybe that's canny technique, because as he begins to unbend and have fun, we relax. Tony Curtis on stage is more curiosity than real acting, and his singing never rises above good-hearted approximation, but as the perpetual imp within the famous face begins to shine through, we get it: In the same way that this is a tribute musical, it is also a tribute Tony Curtis, a reconnection to a history of performance still vivid.

     Once Osgood's comic courtship of Daphne (the disguised Jerry) gets rolling, Curtis shows himself a capable straight man and lands a few comic jabs of his own. He delivers the iconic final line with perfection and joins the girls for some energetic tapping at the end.

     There are many performances to enjoy. Timothy Gulan is a master of klutzy comedy as Jerry and Arthur Hanket is a pleasant Joe -- though his phoney rich man's accent is more Aussie than Cary Grant.

     But it's the women who star. Jodi Carmeli is a delectable Sugar with an expressive voice and a body around which every flapper bead curls with loving duty. As bandleader Sweet Sue, Lenora Nemetz is a fluid comic engine, driving the show with her lively baton and high-kicking dance. And the female ensemble is cute and busy.

     In a generally straightforward retelling of the movie, the cleverest embellishment is to turn gangster Spats (William Ryall) and his sidekicks into tap-dancing killers. And Larry Storch -- as much a survivor in his way as Curtis -- makes a game appearance as the frazzled Bienstock.

     Although the vehicle is far from a Rolls-Royce, it provides a pleasant throwback journey, with plenty of jazzy dance and a winning smile. And it makes those memories live.