Back in the old days, musicals became movies because Broadway wanted the rest of the world to “oo” and “ah” over their latest creations. Not everyone could get to New York or one of the spots a tour would reach. Now, musicals are made of non-musical movies because of a dearth of original ideas and a general lack of interest in contemporary audiences. Subsequently, it’s a hit-or-miss proposition. We get successes like The Producers and Spamalot, and gag-inducing pieces such as Footloose. Librettist Jeffrey Lane and composer/lyricist David Yazbek lit upon the intriguing idea of turning the sneaky little comedy Dirty Rotten Scoundrels into a musical. The result was a minor success on the main stem, although having now seen their final result, I suspect that just as much of that came from the original cast (including Norbert Leo Butz as vulgarian con-artist Freddy, Laura Marie Duncan as the sweet-pigeon Christine, and Jenifer Foote as the twangy Okie Jolene, all of whom have joined the tour) as from the script and music they crafted. This musical falls into the same trap as all retreads of cinema: As a lover of the original movie, my reaction was mixed (though much more leaning toward the positive), while my wife, who had never seen the film upon which it is based, loved the production.

For me, the scales were tipped by Butz and the ensemble’s infectious energy more than the collection of Yazbek’s generally unremarkable songs. Lane is successful at adding just enough new material (including a whole new subplot) to keep those who knew the movie guessing while hitting all the right memorable spots. He has also chosen to go baser than Frank Oz did in the movie, so he has edged the musical more toward NC-17 area. There is, though, the tinge of self-reference that has become the easy way out for writers to grab a quick laugh that sometimes works and sometimes seems rather gratuitous. Worse, a lot of Yazbek’s songs feel grafted onto the script rather than integral to the movement of plot and establishment of character. A few, like the titillatingly foul-mouthed “Great Big Stuff” and the hilarious “All About Ruprecht” are keepers, but I couldn’t hum you the music to “Here I Am” or “The Only Game in Town” on a bet. And because of the iffy acoustics depending on where you sit in the Gammage, I haven’t a clue what was being sung during the “Ruffhousin’ mit Shüffhausen” number when Tom Hewitt’s Lawrence was singing with a German accent.

But then there’s Butz. This is probably familiar territory for him after having done the role for about two years now, but he presents it as fresh and freshly as if it was spontaneously popping out of Freddy’s foul little mind. Think a thinner, courser Cale Epps. He makes Freddy an unapologetic boar, and we can’t help but love him for it. Hewitt is more problematic. The role of Lawrence is supposed to be the peak of sophistication and breeding, but Hewitt is not quite there. Part of it is textual, since we see more of his inner workings than was allowed in the movie, but his indistinct accent doesn’t cut glass, and his carriage is not as primly elegant as it feels like it should be. However, his comedic timing is nearly as good as Butz, and his singing voice is strong. It is Duncan who nearly steals the show as the daffy innocent Christine. Her voice is outstanding, her dancing light and lilting, and her acting shows much range. Scenes between the three leads glimmer.

The supporting cast is also strong. Hollis Resnik is adorable as Muriel, one of Lawrence’s first marks of the evening, with strong voice and great stage presence. Drew McVety is a solid Police Inspector Andre, but he becomes stronger when working with Resnik. Leggy Foote is a hoot as over-the-top Okie Jolene, and the remainder of the ensemble is in step and tune as you’d expect from an A-tour. Jack O’Brien has helmed the show to include a lot of pratfalls and silly bits, while Jerry Mitchell’s choreography is as big and splashy as this over-the-top script requires.

Steven Bishop’s tiny five piece orchestra regretfully sounds every bit a band thrice it size, inevitably showing that the art of music in musical theatre is doomed to be left to soulless computers. David Rockwell’s revolve-based set is a little flat, even for a tour, but Kenneth Posner’s lighting more than makes up for it with many flashes of brilliance.