The Atlanta Journal-Constitution January 25, 2007 `Sister Act' @ the Alliance By Wendell Brock If you groaned when you heard that "Sister Act" was being turned into a musical, that's because you were remembering how dumb Hollywood can be. Well, fear not, oh, ye of little faith. The creators of "Sister Act: The Musical" have found divine inspiration in the flat-footed 1992 film starring Whoopi Goldberg as a lounge-singer-turned-nun-on-the-run. A world premiere co-production by Pasadena Playhouse and the Alliance Theatre, where it opened Wednesday night, "Sister Act: The Musical" is a buoyant reminder of the forgiving nature of musical theater. As imagined by composer Alan Menken, lyricist Glenn Slater and book writers Cheri and Bill Steinkellner, "Sister Act" is a shamelessly referential '70s homage-podge that mixes the cloistered quietude of a Catholic order with the trashy vocabulary of blaxsploitation, the day-Glo colors of disco and the groovy sounds of funk, soul and R&B. Hail Mary, full of bad taste. In director Peter Schneider's raucous reinvention, down-and-out singer Deloris Van Cartier (Dawnn Lewis) is not in bed with the Mafia -- she's slung up with a bad, "Superfly"-meets-"Shaft" hybrid named Curtis Shank (Harrison White), whose outlandish wardrobe is as dubious as his moral fiber. Can you say, "Pimp my convent." When Deloris witnesses a murder, she goes running for police protection, and it turns out the desk sergeant is her old chum from catholic school, "Sweaty Eddie" Souther (David Jennings), a sort of super-geek waiting to be liberated. (Jennings' "I Could Be That Guy" is a vocal highlight that starts out physically stiff and turns into a soulful awakening.) As you probably know by now, Eddie's solution is for Deloris to seek asylum in a nunnery, where she ruffles the feathers of the Mother Superior (Elizabeth Ward Land) but soon wins the sisters' hearts by injecting the choir with a shot of her "Sunday Morning Fever." While the set-up and opening scenes struggle to find their tone -- Deloris' signature athem, "Too Much to Live For," is too flashy to be poignant but later gains power as a reprise -- the show takes off the minute Lewis puts on her habit. As a counterpoint to the seediness of Curtis's Funkadelica Downtown Disco, Mother Superior instructs Deloris, now known as Sister Mary Clarence, in the way of the convent. Land, whose presence recalls both Katherine Hepburn and Broadway's Cherry Jones, carries herself regally and sings beautifully. Her song, "A Simple Life," is a lovely and luminous meditation on the serenity of following the canonical hours. In this world of hustlers, John Travolta wannabees and disco hallelujahs, the Steinkellners excel in sculpting vivid characters. In a wonderfully showoff-y part, Amy K. Murray is delightful as the bubbly, plus-size Sister Mary Patrick. And Audrie Neenan, who played Aunt Eller in Trevor Nunn's "Oklahoma!" on Broadway, is superb as the croaky Sister Mary Lazarus. (Keep an eye out for her cameo turn as a jive-spouting elder rapper.) Costume designer Gary Lennon has a lot of fun yukking it up with the gangsta duds and glamming it up with Deloris' sequins and spangles, and scenic designer David Potts contributes a simple structure of steel-framed flying buttresses and Gothic windows that fly in and out as appropriate. But sometimes, the incandescent lighting (by Donald Holder) and the over-the-top costumes clash so brightly that they are hard on the eyes. (Have a pair of shades ready for the final number, "Mirror Ball," a vocal lowpoint that likens the many facets of God to that rotating emblem of the dance-driven '70s. Oh, dear.) Though "Sister Act" is well over 2 1/2 hours, it's so much fun that it doesn't feel long. Still, it could use some trimming. Right now, it seems like the creators are so in love with the material that they can't bear to lose a thing. But the transitions need focus, and not every song, or character, feels necessary. "Sister Act" is one of those happy occasions in which the makeover is better than the original version. A fantastic premise for a musical comedy, it demonstrates how theater can get away with comedic trangressions that would be unpardonable in other genres. Like Menken's "The Little Shop of Horrors" and Mel Brooks' "The Producers" (both based on films, incidentally), "Sister Act" proves that you can be deliberately silly, and smart, too. If Broadway is its ultimate destination, it's got much more than a prayer. THE VERDICT: Delicious nunsense. THE 411: Through Feb. 25. Alliance Theatre, Woodruff Arts Center, 1280 Peachtree St. N.E., Midtown. 404-733-5000; alliancetheatre.org.