Bon Jovi

Sunday night's official opening of "Memphis" at the Orpheum theater, where the Tony-winning Broadway musical has been newly staged for the launch of its national tour, finally brings locals face-to-face with the cartoon-colored confabulation of history built upon the sexy premise that rock and roll music was, at the onset of the civil rights movement in the 1950s, a bridge between the races.

The silhouette of the old Memphis & Arkansas Bridge that hovers over the stage is both a fitting symbol and also one of the few real-life landmarks referenced in a show that is, to borrow an expression used by the lead character, a "fantastical" representation of the city and its past.

No doubt, the production opens to the most critical audience of its tour -- a theater full of strong, and well-informed opinions on the subject of Memphis.

Judging by the enthusiasm of Sunday's audience, most will agree that "Memphis" is genuinely entertaining. David Bryan's Tony-winning score, played by an onstage band, has catchy, hummable hooks and a pop sensibility that draws liberally from gospel, R&B and rock genres. The music practically compels listeners to clap along, shout "Amen!," and even join along in the singing. If the anthemic tune "Memphis Lives in Me" doesn't make you feel like you're on the front row of a Lee Greenwood concert while he's singing "I'm proud to be an American" as the fireworks go off, then someone should probably check your pulse.

It's also easy to find consensus on the show's moral lesson: racism does indeed suck. And with racist attitudes of the 1950s serving as the primary antagonist in "Memphis," the characters are so sympathetic simply because their struggle is axiomatic to us in more enlightened times.

The show opens in an "underground" all-black nightclub on Beale Street. "Ain't no white folks here, 'cause they're too damned scared," says one patron just before a young white man named Huey Calhoun comes slinking down the stairs. Grabbing the microphone, he makes a case for why he should be allowed to stay. Black music is the "music of my soul," he avows.

He's attracted to more than just the music, however. The club owner's sister, Felicia, captures his heart through her singing voice.

The poor, illiterate Huey is a romantically anachronistic character that every white man in the 21st century dreams he'd be like if somehow cast back in time -- a colorblind social rebel who sees only the purity of love and music.

Huey lands a gig as a radio deejay and determines to bring black music to the center of the all-white radio dial. As his popularity grows, he gets to host his own dance program on television. Can he integrate TV as well?

Bryan Fenkart, who has been a stand-in for the role on Broadway, plays the relentlessly optimistic Huey with his heart on his sleeve.

Felicia Boswell, an actress originally from Birmingham, brings feisty Southern elegance to the role of Felicia, whose own dreams of success in the music business are as strong as Huey's.

The touring company gives a nice, spiky edge to the story that seems more tempered in the glossier Broadway cast. As club owner Delray, Quentin Earl Darrington has the kind of toughness and grit that strongly emphasizes the danger of Huey and Felicia's love.

As wonderful and inspiring as Julie Johnson is in the role of Huey's mother, her character's instant transformation from bigot to saint after hearing gospel music in a church illustrates one of the hokier aspects of Joe DiPietro's story line, namely that intolerance can be cured by learning to appreciate black music. If only that worked in real life.

As the show begins its trek across the country, one hopes others will equate our city with the positive vibe that resonates so strongly in this hopeful musical.