I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change
Broadway Performance Hall, 325-6500. Through Oct 6.

Men are from Mars, women are from Venus: This overly familiar bit of marketing smarm pretty much sums up the concept behind I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change, which always seems to teeter dangerously on the edge of being just another collection of exhausted and clichéd heterosexual-type dating and mating scenarios. Through an exhaustive parade of short scenes, the refreshingly energetic and gifted ensemble cast explores the always familiar, sometimes unsettling, and fitfully endearing landscape of male-on-female relations: beginning with the possible Biblical origins of love (something like, "And God said, 'Let there be breeders,' and there was nookie") and continuing down on through the quagmires of dating, "I do," divorce, and/or death. All of the stock characters are present and accounted for: the ESPN-obsessed, couch-potato husband; the geek who hungers to be a stud; desperate divorcées scrambling for a rebound shag; and, my personal least favorite, the "long-suffering" hubby dragged to Nordy's by the shop-aholic missus. (He sings, "Like she needs more shooooes!" Whatever.)

Like the majority of musical revues, I Love You... forsakes plot for vibrato, character development for bouncy jingles, and story line for jazz hands. It's light and airy, fluffy and predictable, and 65 percent of it will evaporate from your mind the second the house lights come up. But the remaining 35 percent makes this show worth seeing. Examples? Adair Chapell's moving and endearing scene as the recent divorcée making her first videotaped personal ad (had me in tears), Stephanie Shininger's sparkling number "Always a Bridesmaid, But Never a Bride" (had me in stitches), Leif Norby's heartbreaking "Shouldn't I Be Less in Love with You" (boohooing again), and the too damn adorable "I Can Live with That," in which two cute old codgers (Shininger and Gary Wayne Cash) hook up at a wake (gotta love that). Still, taken as a whole, this show is mostly frilly, sometimes fun, but ultimately forgettable first-date fare. Nothing, really, more than that.