A Steamy Sleepover

For the first time in years, the sexiest thing in New York can be found on Broadway.

We look to Broadway for cheesy dance numbers, spectacle, and loud singing, but rarely do we find something genuinely steamy trodding the Disney-fied boards of the Great White Way. The kids of Spelling Bee may be charming and hilarious, but no one is begging them to sign any bra straps. Sure, Idina Menzel can belt freakishly high, but she's kind of scary up close. That's all changed thanks to Harry Connick, Jr. (pop crooner and sometime TV guest star) and Kelli O'Hara (The Light in the Piazza), the seductive duo fogging up the windows of the American Airlines Theater in this season's revival of The Pajama Game.

First produced on Broadway in 1954, the musical ran for 1063 performances and launched the careers of Shirley MacLaine (an understudy who made her Broadway debut at the last minute) and producer Harold Prince (Company, The Phantom of the Opera). There was a short-lived revival in 1973, but the show, with music and lyrics by Damn Yankees co-authors Richard Adler and Jerry Ross, hasn't been on Broadway recently for a number of reasons. Based on the union and labor negotiation novel 7 1⁄2 Cents, it's about as dated as a musical can get and still make sense. In the '50s, its message had at least a glimmer of urgency and social relevance; now it seems like the oldest cliche. Like the message, the music is distinctly of its era. Standards "Hey There," "Steam Heat," and "Hernando's Hideaway," may once have climbed the charts, but today they're only vaguely familiar to the average theatergoer.

Connick (Hope Floats, Will & Grace), who finally seems to have distanced himself from the stiff-as-a-board school of acting, successfully bridges the generational divide through his husky and soulful singing. As Sid Sorokin, the new superintendent of the pajama factory, Connick lends gravitas and blue-collar authenticity to the music. It's a new interpretation of the songs made famous by the clear-voiced John Raitt, but it's also a classic style that fits with the tone of the piece.

Unfortunately, director and choreographer Kathleen Marshall-who, after 2004's Wonderful Town, is making a name for herself in the field of musical revivals-does less to make the piece timely in any way. Even more inextricably linked to The Pajama Game than Shirley MacLaine is legendary choreographer Bob Fosse. His dance numbers, particularly the signature hunched-shoulder, bowler-hat look of "Steam Heat," defined the show and lent it a gritty elegance sorely missing from this revival. Marshall is nothing if not competent, but the large ensemble dance numbers like "Once a Year Day" are often clunky and disorganized. The most notable misstep is "Steam Heat"-what should bring down the house is merely serviceable, at best. Watching Marshall's choreography with any knowledge of Fosse's original is a bit like watching a drag queen warble through "Don't Rain on My Parade;" it's eerily familiar, but no one would call it good.

It almost does not matter that the piece is dated or that the choreography is bland when Connick and O'Hara take the stage. Much has been made of their sizzling chemistry, and every bit of it is true. O'Hara, Tony-nominated for her role in The Light in the Piazza, blossoms as Babe, the spunky and strong-willed leader of the pajama factory's grievance committee. The role requires an entirely different set of skills from those she displayed as the ingenue in Light, and O'Hara delivers. Where she once trilled operatic high notes, here she belts musical theater's least operatic songs with authoritative gusto. Connick and O'Hara turn the aurally disturbing yodels of "There Once Was a Man" into theatrical splendor so steamy it falls just this side of pornographic.

The other actors, though not as thrilling as the leads, do their jobs well. Michael McKean (This Is Spinal Tap, Hairspray) is particularly charming as Hines, a higher-up at the factory and jealous boyfriend of Gladys (Megan Lawrence.) His first act duet with Roz Ryan is appropriately amusing.

As Gladys, Lawrence vainly attempts to steal the show. While she never quite gets it out of the hands of its formidable stars, she is impressive in the all-out show-stopper "Hernando's Hideaway." Less seductive than Fosse's original staging, the ensemble number is in turns hilarious and outrageous.

Revivals are usually either disastrous messes (Barefoot in the Park) or imaginative reinventions (Sweeney Todd). This is neither, but it's damn sexy.