No, there was nothing jerry-built about this spangle-splattered juggernaut—unless you count its creators: Jerry Herman, who did the songs; Jerry Zaks, who directed, and Jerry Mitchell, who choreographed. All three were brought to the stage in the show's finale to take a bow—along with the show's Tony-winning book writer, Harvey Fierstein—and the smiles of that contented quartet positively upstaged the lavish sets of Scott Pask and sumptuously silly costumes of William Ivey Long. (No small feat, that.)

Daniel Davis and Gary Beach star as the old married (if male) couple at the heart of the show—an impresario and his diva at a flashy French drag-club in St. Tropez—who have to put on a conservative charade to appease the prospective in-laws of the impresario's son.

The stage is set for farce, and, if there were ever any shocks here, they are long gone with the wind. If not exactly Dragstrip Alley now, Broadway does have Dame Edna Everage next door to La Cage, and another Edna clicking her high heels uptown (Bruce Vilanch).

The big Tony winner of '84, La Cage has now reached A.E. Housman's age of maturity ("one-and-twenty") but doesn't look it. "I saw the original show, and it is just as fressssch now as it was then." So weighed in no less a sexpert than Dr. Ruth Westheimer. "I think you have to look at the show as a love story and as a relationship between people, not necessarily only the aspect of homosexuality." The doctor in the house was a friend of the court, claiming two of the head Jerrys for buddies (Mitchell and Herman). "I'm very fond of Jerry Herman because he is short. I like a few short people in my life," said the four-foot-seven doc. "The one thing I would liked to have seen in the show—if Jerry would have asked me, I would have said, 'Jerry, one line about safe sex.' I like that they all have sex. I like that they all have partners. But there is no such thing as safe sex."

For Richards, opening night was a sentimental deja vu without his late wife, Mary Lea Johnson, who produced the show with him. "I cried through the whole thing," he said.

He, too, felt the new edition topped the first. "Those dancers!" for one thing. "They are so incredible you wanna burst out and applaud. They give it all they got, and then they come up to me and say, 'Now, Mr. Richards, how long are we supposed to do this?' Sweet."

Mitchell, always an athletic choreographer, really goes for burn this time out, particularly in a spectacular title-tune showstopper three-fourths of the way through the first act in which "Les Cagelles" (an unbroken chorus line of males-in-drag this time around) defy gravity and stamina. "It's as though the 15 years I've been doing Broadway Bares was my preparation for La Cage aux Folles," said the choreographer who recruited a fair number of Cagelles from that annual striptease BC/EFA benefit he has helmed since its inception.

Zaks, a seasoned pro at finding fun in a show, had a field day. "We just tried to make it as immediate and believable and as funny as possible," he said. In comparison, his next project should be a month in the country—and another country at that: "Right now I'm to do The Philadelphia Story at the Old Vic in London." Kevin Spacey is the C. K. Dexter Haven.

Composer Herman was in a special state of euphoria. "Tonight was the most flawless performance of the show I've ever seen," he admitted. "It was so emotional for me. I worked on this revival for three months, and it has been an extraordinary love-in."

Paul Huntley, the only person to receive a Tony for wig and hair design, is a carry-over from the original production, too, but, he hastened to add, "I didn't repeat myself. All the wigs are totally new"—including an unbridled blonde one that makes Beach look like Vera Ralston-in-heat and an gray-swayed one that makes Davis look like Marty Richards.

"People have been accusing me of channeling Marty," laughed Davis, a late blooming musical star whose mellifluous voice isn't often lifted in song (let alone "Song on the Sand," which he does beautifully). "I've done a lot of musicals, but this is my New York singing debut." (He didn't have a song in the recent Sondheim, The Frogs.) I've always been a little terrified, frankly, of singing."

And this debut was especially hard to bring off. Entering the show's homestretch, he was felled by laryngitis in the middle of "With You on My Arm" and had to be replaced by his understudy. "I was out just a week and a half ago. I had no voice of all, but, thanks to Dr. Gwen Korivan, I'm back. She's the best."

In his absence, one of the St. Tropez townfolk—John Hillner—stepped in, without a single rehearsal, in mid-show (Beach introduced him as "my new husband"), finished the evening, then did three other shows until Davis was well enough to return. Hillner (best remembered as the loopy saloonkeep, Lank Hawkins, in the original cast of Crazy for You) held up well during this understudy's nightmare. While Fierstein vamped with 20 minutes of standup and song 'n' dance, wardrobe readied him for the stage. They were just starting to cut him a belt when he came knocking. "They cut me one, and I was on. I was on like a heartbeat," Hillner said. "I think I had it pretty much together by Sunday."

Bryan Batt, who went on for Alan Campbell in Sunset Boulevard and Douglas Sills in The Scarlet Pimpernel, is the able Albin standing by for Beach—and should come in quite handy in February when Beach begins filming his Tony-winning role of Roger De Bris, the gay helmsman and Hitler in The Producers, with Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Roger Bart and Will Ferrell. (Incidentally, the new movie Ulla—Nicole Kidman—just bowed out of the project because she couldn't sandwich the singing-and-dancing rehearsals in between the now shooting Bewitched and the next-up Eucalyptus. Her replacement hasn't been named, but the Tony-winning original wouldn't be a bad idea.)

Beach plans to do both roles simultaneously, bicycling back and forth from Broadway to Brooklyn (where director-choreographer Susan Stroman will shoot most of the film). At least, the crossdressing is a constant. "I'll be very thin by the time that is over," he predicted, but he likes the idea of having Batt on call whenever he can't coordinate both.

And the feeling is entirely mutual. "I couldn't ask to stand by for a nicer man than Gary," said Batt. "He's the quintessential gentleman of the theatre. They don't make 'em like him anymore. I aspire to be like him." (Eve Harrington must be spinning in her grave.) Continued...