Lloyd Webber remake is parable without a prayer

A colorful locale, an escaped convict, a chorus of angel-voiced children and a religious "miracle." Sounds like the makings of a gripping piece of theater.

Not in "Whistle Down the Wind," the dreary retread of an Andrew Lloyd Webber-Jim Steinman musical, now at the 5th Avenue Theatre on national tour.

This odd kettle of catfish transplants the plot of an indie 1961 British film (based on an allegorical novel by Mary Hayley Bell) from a Lancashire village to a Bible Belt town in Louisiana.

This is the third major draft of the musical. Hal Prince staged its 1996 debut in Washington D.C., to critical rebuke. In 1998, Gale Edwards directed a more popular revamped version, which had a solid London run.

This latest edition, which played London last year, is mounted by Bill Kenwright, with a tweaked score by Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Steinman (and a few by Don Black) and a book credited to Patricia Knop, Gale Edwards and Lloyd Webber.

But the many cooks haven't made this bland mumbo-gumbo spicier, or more satisfying.

In all its renditions, "Whistle Down the Wind" requires a large leap of faith from an audience. One must accept that an innocent youth finds a grimy fugitive hiding in the family barn and mistakes him for Jesus Christ. And that she goes to extremes to protect him, believing he'll conjure a miracle.

The black-and-white film of "Whistle Down the Wind" had a stark, bleak visual beauty, and memorable acting by Hayley Mills (the novelist's daughter played the young Swallow) and Alan Bates (as the murderer she shelters).

The same roles are ably sung at the 5th Avenue, by crystalline-voiced Lloyd Webber protégé Andrea Ross, and Eric Kunze, a power-tenor whose messiah résumé includes a starring turn in "Jesus Christ Superstar."

The show also features a chorus of adorable children — many of them local — singing in sweet unison; and a slew of impressive rustic sets by Paul Farnsworth.

But "Whistle Down the Wind" doesn't whistle Dixie. Nor does it make much sense.

In this oddly arid depiction of 1959 Louisiana, interracial couples canoodle in public and in an integrated juke joint, yet don't get arrested or roughed up.

The racist cops are among the few folks who speak in a Deep South drawl. And while Lloyd Webber says his score was partly inspired by indigenous music of the era, it often sounds more like his earlier biblical pop operas (e.g., "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat") than like anything resembling Cajun, Zydeco or swamp rock.

One of several simple, schmaltzy ballads ("No Matter What") became a pop hit in the U.K. Also on tap: an obligatory snake-handling gospel number ("Wrestle with the Devil"), with fakey rubber reptiles as props; some mock-hymns ("Keys to the Vaults of Heaven"); and some howler lyrics ("A kiss is a terrible thing to waste").

In usual Lloyd Webber fashion, the main melodies are encored — all too often. And still they don't stick in your head.

As a parable of innocent Christian faith overcoming adult religious hypocrisy, "Whistle Down the Wind" is also hard to buy. Upping Swallow's age to 16 (in the book and film she was prepubescent) makes for a bit of sexual tension with the fugitive, as well as with the sketchy teen character of Amos (a James Dean wannabe, played by Matt Skrincosky).

But what 1950s teen, even in a Southern backwater, would stubbornly insist that a snarling, tattooed guy on the lam is a deity?

Alas, "Whistle Down the Wind" doesn't work the miracle it needs to save it from the accursed tedium of mawkishness and contrivance.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com