A seeker on a timeless quest

Hands reach out from the darkness, enticing, imploring.

“Join us,” urges a silky voice. It belongs to a man in black, a bowler perched rakishly on his head. Barely discernible in shadows, the mysterious figure weaves a spell with his melody, inviting the audience to leave humdrum life behind while traveling to the exotic locale of the story that he and his troupe are about to enact.

The trip still proves fairly exhilarating in the musical “Pippin,” which first opened on Broadway in 1972 and played for 4 1/2 years. Today, the Summer of Love vibe and Renaissance fair trappings freeze the show in time, yet a staging as part of the revival-minded Reprise! series at UCLA’s Freud Playhouse makes a strong case for its story of fulfillment in a confusing age.

With the success of his music for “Godspell,” composer-lyricist Stephen Schwartz was able to earn “Pippin” -- a show he had begun in college -- a shot at Broadway, with Bob Fosse as director and choreographer. Fosse reshaped the simple tale according to his own vision, infusing it with slinky dance numbers and a Vegas floor show’s worth of magic tricks.

New York’s theater columns told of clashes between composer and director, but the show opened to mostly positive reviews and became a linchpin success for Fosse, who earned a pair of Tony Awards for his direction and choreography. The book, by Roger O. Hirson, tells the story of Candide-like Prince Pippin, son of the powerful Frankish ruler Charles I, or Charlemagne. The material is presented by a troupe of street performers in a style that draws upon elements of commedia dell’arte, vaudeville and burlesque.

As the youth who vows “not to waste my life in commonplace, ordinary pursuits,” Michael Arden projects fresh-faced openness and touching vulnerability. In a smooth, sweet voice that floats easily into falsetto and shimmers in its midrange, he yearns for his own little “Corner of the Sky” (the show’s best-loved song) while rushing about with arms open wide, an expectant grin on his face. Soldier, lover and revolutionary are among the roles Pippin will sample.

Urging him along is the sly, sexy and slightly sinister Leading Player -- a role memorably originated by Ben Vereen. Singer and onetime “Star Search” powerhouse Sam Harris might seem an unusual choice for the part, but his vocal arsenal -- with its flamboyant high notes and laser-beam sustained climaxes -- is well suited to this outsized role.

Director Gordon Hunt and choreographer Dan Mojica evoke the Fosse style even as they personalize the production.

The dancers, who serve as all-purpose players, are perfectly sculpted specimens of humankind, barely dressed in mesh, lace, spandex and leather. Mojica infuses their choreography with pulsing pelvises, undulating arms, provocatively turned legs.

Here as in the original, one of the show’s standout segments is its sensually bloody depiction of war. It begins with a trio of soldiers performing a music hall number that introduces a Nazi goose step into an otherwise cheery soft-shoe. By the end, the stage is bathed blood red (lights by Tom Ruzika) as dismembered body parts rain down. Adapting the stick from his hat-and-cane routine to a new use, the Leading Player casually swats at a limb as though playing a game of golf.

The slightly heightened acting style of the first half gives way to genuine emotion when Jean Louisa Kelly and Graham Phillips arrive as the widowed mother and son who will turn Pippin’s search onto a new path.

Folky here, jazzy there, Ralph Burns’ orchestrations are performed by 16 instrumentalists, including musical director Gerald Sternbach, who conducts from his keyboard.

The show ends differently than we remember, bringing the story full circle and poising it for a new generation.

*

‘Pippin’

Where: Reprise! at the Freud Playhouse, UCLA campus (northeast), Westwood

When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays,

2 and 7 p.m. Sundays

Ends: Feb. 6

Price: $60 and $65

Contact: (310) 825-2101 or www.reprise.org

Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes