DOWN UNDERDOG.('The Boy from Oz,' Imperial Theater, New York, New York)(Theater Review)

By 1964, the twenty-year-old singer-songwriter Peter Allen had seemingly gone as far as an ambitious, young, white, bisexual man from small-town Tenterfield, Australia, could go. The more excitable half of the Allen Brothers, a fake-brother act that had toured Australia for a number of years, he had a gig singing in the lounge at the Hong Kong Hilton--in Cantonese. But the glitz of swinging British-ruled Hong Kong was still a far cry from the shimmering filigree of Allen's show-biz dreams. According to Martin Sherman, who wrote the book for the new musical "The Boy from Oz" (at the Imperial), rescue for Allen and his "brother" Chris Bell arrived in the diminutive form of Judy Garland. She was on her way back to the States from a tour in Australia, where she had engaged in a number of characteristic antics both on- and offstage. Overextending herself to the point of collapse and concert cancellation, Garland had also worn out as many other people as her formidable will--and wiles--could gather up. Now she was flying home over that "goddam rainbow," her gay husband in tow.

In "The Boy from Oz," Allen (played by Hugh Jackman) has just slept with "Mr. Garland" when he recognizes the legendary chanteuse (Isabel Keating) getting hammered and increasingly agitated in the hotel bar. To calm Garland down, he coaxes her into singing a lovely ballad, "All I Wanted Was the Dream." Keating, in a red dress, red heels, and a red, sparkly top with the famous Judy-in-the-sixties cowl neck, opens her red-lipped mouth, and the audience gasps: we're in the presence of a great theatrical star impersonating a great theatrical star. Keating delivers a near-perfect rendition of Garland's exhausting and inexhaustible need, performing with a skill and delicacy of interpretation that go well beyond her subject's own abilities. Garland could only be herself (and what a self!); Keating, on the other hand, has the range, the discipline, and the technique to rise above the show's poor direction, by Philip Wm. McKinley, overwhelming the obvious staging and simply living the part. She's not camp--she's Judy.

But the reason we've come to see "The Boy from Oz" (the "Oz" in the title refers not only to Allen's Judy connection, but also to Australia) is to learn something about Allen, the all-singing, all-dancing entertainer who died of aids in 1992, so it's unfortunate that his character is shown up at every turn. Jackman--a charming, wildly hardworking performer, who made his name in such films as "X-Men" and "Swordfish"--has been put in the awkward position of having to prove that Allen is worthy of our attention. Whether the life of Peter Allen is enough to build a show around is open to debate; this is not the show that will answer the question.

Sherman has Jackman address the audience directly throughout much of the evening. Presumably, this solves a dramaturgical problem, by keeping the exposition out of the dialogue. But Sherman knows that he's cheating. Instead of a show, he has written a theatrical version of the first-person memoir, one in which the protagonist wears his heart (and his lungs) on his sleeve. As "The Boy from Oz" opens, Allen is alone onstage with a piano. Overhead, purple lights cast a moody glow. He embarks on the story of his early days in Tenterfield, and the lights turn to brown and orange hues that bring to mind the Australian outback. (The excellent lighting work is by Donald Holder.) The son of a chipper mother and a brutal, alcoholic father, who eventually committed suicide, Peter Woolnough, we discover, took to performing at a tender age. As a boy, he tap-danced, sang, and played the piano--skills that generally amused his mother but not his father. These biographical details are illustrated by young Peter himself (Mitchel David Federan), who entertains at home and at the local pub, while Jackman looks on admiringly, occasionally commenting on his younger incarnation's energy and need for approval. As Federan plays him, the ferociously ...