Watch for plot holes

SAN DIEGO -- They sure don’t remake ‘em like they used to.

“Dancing in the Dark,” the theatrical adaptation of the MGM classic “The Band Wagon,” gives the 1953 backstage movie musical an extensive face lift. And as often happens with radical cosmetic surgery, the outcome isn’t born-again youthfulness but flagrant artificiality.

The Old Globe production, which is receiving its world premiere under the direction of Gary Griffin, sets out to improve Vincente Minnelli’s film without preserving what was special about it.

The screenplay by Betty Comden and Adolph Green -- clearly the work’s Achilles’ heel -- attempted to dramatically string together the old hits from the original “Band Wagon,” a landmark 1931 revue that songwriters Arthur Schwartz and Howard Dietz made in collaboration with George S. Kaufman. If the newly devised scenes didn’t add up to a satisfying story, it was partly because Comden and Green’s contract wasn’t renewed and the movie was patched up with an extended dance-theater sequence that gives a fair indication of what the Academy Awards ceremony might have been like if the writers strike hadn’t been settled.

Still, “Dancing in the Dark” has a lot to live up to. The swank choreography of Michael Kidd and Oliver Smith is legendary. And who could hold a candle to Fred Astaire as Tony Hunter, the light-footed Hollywood has-been trying to regain Broadway glory, and Cyd Charisse as Gabrielle Gerard, the prima ballerina launching her limbs onto the Great White Way?

The rechristened stage version features a book by Douglas Carter Beane that tries to smooth out the movie’s plot while making the most of the memorable music, particularly the anthem MGM exhausted to the grave, “That’s Entertainment!,” a tune Schwartz and Dietz wrote for the film.

Unfortunately, Beane’s script seems as unfinished as his predecessors’. His characters aren’t sharply introduced, and he over-complicates the romantic business. The humor has riotous moments but doesn’t know when to quit. And sometimes the story just doesn’t make sense.

Tony (Scott Bakula) has returned to New York from L.A. with nothing in his possession but a couple of priceless paintings, poor guy. His career has gone bust. He’s lost his Bel-Air mansion. And he’s ancient history as far as the younger generation is concerned.

Jeffrey Cordova (Patrick Page), an oh-so-serious English actor, wants the thrill of directing and starring in a musical blockbuster. He’s decided Lily Martin (Beth Leavel) and Lester Martin (Adam Heller) -- Comden and Green’s thinly veiled surrogates -- will write the show. Paul Byrd (Sebastian La Cause) will choreograph. And Tony will make it his comeback vehicle.

So far, so good. Unluckily for everyone, Jeffrey decides to revamp Lily and Lester’s crowd pleaser into an arty retread of Faust, casting himself as a pitchfork-carrying devil. Paul wants his girlfriend, Gabrielle (Mara Davi), a snooty ballet star, to play the ingenue, which isn’t such a bad idea except that she can’t stand her leading man. And to top it off, Lily has fallen in love again with Tony, which naturally bums out her husband. It also doesn’t delight Tony, who has taken a shine to Gabrielle, even though she keeps storming away from him in a huff.

Such daffy developments are a penny a pop. Musical comedies, of course, traditionally come overstuffed with inanity. But the successful ones have an emotional through-line that can withstand a whole Marx Brothers festival of horseplay.

Beane hasn’t managed to funnel the material’s variety show energies into a convincing plot, so it’s exceedingly difficult to stay connected. The only real thing happening here is in the commitment of Griffin’s talented cast.

Leavel -- a Tony winner for her performance in “The Drowsy Chaperone” -- is especially good as the smart creative dame with a heart, and Page provides a freshly human take on the egomaniacal thespian who has lost touch with everything but his passion for the stage.

Bakula is more singer than dancer, so don’t expect a modern-day Astaire, who in any case doesn’t exist. Sadly, the jerkiness of the show keeps us from understanding Tony, the aging matinee idol, who’s constantly being asked to supply another needlessly explosive reaction. Bakula can’t help but get lost in the shuffle. Davi’s Gabrielle is drowned out by the hubbub. Her character is at most a cipher who can pirouette. How anyone is supposed to root for her romance with Tony is a mystery.

To judge by Griffin’s work on “The Color Purple,” big splashy scenes are his specialty. And this is where he excels with choreographer Warren Carlyle, whose broad, tap-heavy palette strives more to please than enchant.

Only rank amateurs could ruin “Triplets,” the famous bit in which miniaturized adults sing about how hard it is to be one of three bawling babies. And “New Sun in the Sky,” the radiant standard that closes the first act, fills one with enough brightness to resist ducking out after intermission.

But the most imaginative numbers are those that are shown from a backstage vantage. We’re granted only a partial view, but we’re swept up not just in the intermittent beauty but also in the atmosphere of histrionic love and craziness that lies behind their creation.

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charles.mcnulty@latimes.com

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‘Dancing in the Dark’

Where: Old Globe Theatre, 1363 Old Globe Way, San Diego

When: 7 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, 8 p.m. Thursdays and Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 8 p.m. Sundays

Ends: April 13

Price: $52 to $79

Contact: (619) 234-5623

Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes