By Joan Behrmann
Special to The Detroit News

     Seeing "Some Like It Hot" to gauge Tony Curtis's aging process compared to your own is not a bad idea -- but you may not be happy with the comparison.

     If you've scarcely heard of Curtis, or if he's only a brief memory from a late-night TV movie, know this: he's way older than your parents, and he can dance a soft-shoe after a fashion, talk-sing and manage to keep his dignity in a so-so show.

     And please note: who knows if it's a sturdy girdle or sheer willpower, but Curtis has the best posture of anyone on stage at the Fisher.

     Now for some Truth in Advertising: all the ads focus on Curtis, but the truth is that he doesn't come on stage until the first act's almost over.

     Until then, you have the story of "Some Like It Hot" as told first and best in the classic screen comedy by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond.
Two down-at-the-heels Chicago musicians inadvertently witness a gangland rubout, then flee town to join up with an all-girl orchestra headed for Miami. The orchestra's singer-ukulele player is Sugar Cane, (Jodi Carmeli) who manages to skirt the edge of parody of the late, great Marilyn Monroe, who originated the role, while creating her own version of the good-hearted ingenue.

     Carmeli has the voice and personality to sell a song, but despite her charm and abundant curves, the show seems curiously -- flat. No memorable tunes come from this enterprise, which made it to Broadway years ago in an earlier incarnation titled "Sugar."

     The dancing, however, is another story. I grew fond of the tap-dancing gangsters led by Spats (William Ryall), in double-breasted pinstripe suits, who rub out a rival gang to the rat-a-tat-tat of their machine-gun tap shoes.

     As the musicians who disguise themselves as women to join the band, Joe (Arthur Hanket) and Jerry (Timothy Gulan) are almost indistinguishable in looks and characterization. Both show flashes of comic timing -- but why did director Dan Siretta choose to have them make their entrance as "Daphne" and "Josey" seated on a luggage cart?
Could it be because anyone who's seen the movie will recall that iconic tracking shot of Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis teetering down the train platform in spike heels? Best not to bring up that memory.

     The chorus girls are charmers, the sets and costumes top-quality. But the songs, by Jule Styne and Bob Merrill, don't come out of their top drawer. Curtis does a reasonable job on a tune with the chorus, "Even naughty old men need love," backed by a line of doddering codgers in wheelchairs. Interestingly, one of the hit numbers in "The Producers," now on Broadway, has a chorus of elderly women on walkers. Could this be a trend?

     The opening-night audience seemed content with the opportunity to beam good wishes and "atta-boys" at the 77-year-old Curtis. And Curtis beamed back.

Joan Behrmann is a former arts and entertainment editor at The Detroit News.