"Bat Boy the Musical" | A fun frolic

He's an adorable, overgrown boy with cute pointy ears and a winsome smile. But watch it there before you kitchy-koo at him. He's half bat, half human and he bites.

Inspired by the maybe-true 1992 tabloid tale of a "wild child" found in a West Virginia cave, Bat Boy is another sexy-grotesque ghoul in the growing genre of campy horror musicals, starting with "The Little Shop of Horrors" and "The Rocky Horror Show."

Now he's infesting ArtsWest Theatre in the energetic, if over-amped, local premiere of "Bat Boy the Musical," a cleverly crafted, predictably lurid and proudly ridiculous chamber show. It's been a cult fave Off Broadway and elsewhere.

Christopher Zinovitch, who runs ArtsWest's increasingly ambitious theater program and directed "Bat Boy," has enlisted a winning lead in Troy Wageman, a performer who can hang upside down by his feet, communicate in clicking bat-gibberish and believably charm his way into the hearts of a typically atypical Hope Falls, W.Va., family. (In such shows, no matter what year it is, it's always some version of the 1950s.)

But there's an even scarier (and more dangerous) grotesque here: Dr. Parker, a hypodermic-wielding vet played with sweaty comic flair by frequent ArtsWest standout Nick DeSantis.

A busy ensemble has fun with Kristin Culp's spoofy choreography and whizzes through sundry character changes. Big-voiced Evan Woltz particularly shines, as a tub-thumping evangelist and wildly distraught mother of three.

On the downside: ArtsWest is a compact 149-seat theater with good sightlines and acoustics. So why mike all the actors for this show? Presumably so they'll be heard over the small stage band, led by R.J. Tancioco.

Trouble is, the miking muddies some of composer-lyricist Laurence O'Keefe's witty lyrics, which are more consistently humorous than the wacky book for "Bat Boy," by Keythe Farley and Brian Flemming.

And the sonic mix isn't kind to all. Heather Hawkins acts the part of Bat Boy's (surrogate?) mom just fine. But she strains to meet the singing demands of the part, and that's exacerbated by the miking. And Krystle Armstrong as her nymphet daughter Shelly sings so loudly into her rock-style headset mike, she's shrill.

Vocal mixing is tough in our largest theaters. In the cozy confines of ArtsWest, couldn't the band cut back a bit — and the actors be coached to sing out? In any event, some technical adjustments might help this "Bat Boy" fly.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com