Book by Eleanor Bergstein. Directed by James Powell. Presented by Broadway Across Canada. At the Queen Elizabeth Theatre on Tuesday, January 12. Continues until January 17

Dirty Dancing—The Classic Story Onstage has all the sophistication of a fine boxed wine, but, you know, you can still get drunk on it.

Eleanor Bergstein, who wrote the screenplay for the 1987 hit film, also wrote the book for the stage musical—and it’s goofy. In a film, an actor can establish character almost on presence alone; in the theatre, especially in a large theatre, audience members can’t see the twitching of an eyebrow, so words help. But Bernstein’s scenes for the musical are so short and superficial that it always feels like we’re rocketing across the surface of the story.

That story remains the same, of course. It’s 1963, and 17-year-old Frances (“Baby”) Houseman is at a resort in the Catskills with her family, when she falls for Johnny, the hot dance instructor. We all know what dancing is a metaphor for, and Johnny is soon instructing Baby on the dance floor and other available surfaces. On the political front, the civil-rights movement, abortion, and class all become part of the discussion.

Although these themes aren’t explored in any depth, their very mention is moving. Basically, however, Dirty Dancing – The Classic Story On Stage is soft porn and that’s the level on which it’s most successful and most fun. On opening night of the Vancouver run, when Johnny first touched Baby, women in the audience started to yip. Yip, yip, yip. Like coyotes. And at the end of Act 1, when Johnny and Baby get it on, darkness falls on them, and the audience gets sprayed with thousands of circles of light as if we’re all participating in a massive mutual orgasm.

The musical doesn’t really have a centre, though. Largely, that’s because, unlike in most musicals, the songs are incidental. In everything from Oklahoma! to Wicked, songs advance the plot and expose the internal lives of the characters. In Dirty Dancing, on the other hand, familiar pop tunes—which are performed by singers, rather than by the main characters—establish the period and comment on the mood. It’s kind of like having the radio on in the background, and it’s not enough. Although the dance numbers are energetic, they don’t fill the expressive void.

In this cast, Christopher Tierney plays Johnny, and the butch persona he assumes feels like it’s made out of Teflon, but he is a spectacularly good dancer, athletic and precise. Gillian Abbott, who plays Baby, is a more responsive actor and she does a nice job with her movement as she transforms from ugly duckling into swan. For my money, one of the most talented performers on-stage is Adrienne Walker, who performs a whole lot of songs, including “We Shall Overcome”, with force and originality.

The design leans heavily on Jon Driscoll’s projections. Sometimes, this approach is inventive: when Johnny and Baby are lit behind a scrim onto which the surface of a lake is projected, it looks like they’re practising their dance routine in the water, for instance. Too often, though, the grainy textures and overly bright colours mimic the aesthetics of a second-rate video game.

Sitting in the audience, the mood of this event feels a lot like a night out with the straight girls. If that’s your thing, go for it. If not, hang on to your cash.