Grey Henson Photo by Marc J. Franklin

For the musical at Manhattan Theatre Club's Stage 1 is similarly silly and exuberant, and silly in a smart way. The work of Kevin Sciretta (book), David Schmoll (music), and Amber Ruffin (book, music, and lyrics), it's laid out like a golden age musical comedy, down to the opening number that tells us where we are and what the tone is going to be. That's "Muddirt," which establishes time (1980something) and place ("mostly wet and gross and smelly and brown/ whose population is steadily going down/ whose happy face is a slightly smaller frown"; the lyrics don't all rhyme that fastidiously, but they're above the current standard). It's a dying small town, befouled by the local nuclear plant and chemical factory, and impoverished by the incredibly corrupt administration of its mayor (usually Alex Moffat; Mike Millan last night, and he was terrific). The air is so bad that Francine (Crystal Lucas-Perry) has relentless coughing jags, and, though devotedly tended to by her smitten doctor (Jason Tam), she may not be long for this world.

She would expire with a secret: She's the mother of Bigfoot (Grey Henson), the local hairy beast rumored to live in the forest but actually seen by few. (We don't know much about his father, but as Francine says, "You have sex with a carny next to a nuclear power plant, you end up with a giant son.") Contrary to popular reputation, Bigfoot is, the script has it, an "absolute sweetheart": happy, considerate, and given to such pronouncements as, "I don't want this moonshine to have realigned my foundational understanding of emotions." All he wants is a normal life; he even has a song celebrating the mundane. But to the townsfolk he's an other, not one of them, and thus the first of several social-commentary points Bigfoot! makes, without ever approaching the drearily preachy.

The mayor wants to save his failing town by building a water amusement park, complete with lavish kickbacks from an avaricious CEO (Jade James), and figures that the best way to divert Muddirt from his financial treachery would be to launch a hunt for Bigfoot. ("The hunt!" Every time it's mentioned, Frau Blücher-like, there's an offstage howl/screech.) Enter sharpshooter Joanne (Katerina McCrimmon), armed with rifle and numerous knives, but dissuaded from beasticide after an initial friendly encounter with her quarry. The plot isn't really worth going into from here; suffice it to say virtue triumphs, evil is quashed, and the mayor thrashes through the most strenuous, acrobatic near-death scene you'll likely ever see.

Unlike many attempted musical comedies of the past decade, this one has a genuinely funny book. Granted, a lot of the fun derives from antiquated pop-culture name-dropping–who here remembers Chaka Khan?–and overextended similes and comparisons, of which there must be dozens: "I've killed more animals than a lipstick company!" "Bigfoot is just a legend, like the Loch Ness monster or ethical nonmonogamy!" And my favorite, and it got a huge laugh, "That shack blew up like a white lady from the suburbs when she sees a black family enjoying themselves." They play better than they read, because this cast, which also includes Jake Letts and Kala Ross, has been directed and wittily choreographed, by Danny Mefford, to go very large and very enthusiastic, and the material suits that.

It's a wide-ranging score taking in R&B, soft rock, and classic Broadway, and while it may fall short of memorable, in context it works just fine. Highlights include "My Love Burns," with the doctor and Francine giving in to the lust they've been hinting at for pages, and "On the Wings," the mayor's celebration of filthy lucre. All the voices are strong, and Lucas-Perry, in particular, knows how to dial back and proffer an honest understated emotion when it's called for.

But honest understated emotions aren't what Bigfoot! is about. Aided by Tim Mackabee's goofy set, with its moving trees, and Mextly Couzin's lighting, which casts a ghostly nuclear haze over much of the action, the mood is mainly merry. Clever staging ideas–a chorus that rushes on to repeat Gilbert-and-Sullivan-style, "They own the store!," then rushes back off–and big, basic, easy-to-convey wants and emotions dominate. Henson is an adorable, strong-voiced Bigfoot, McCrimmon a great belter with a confident, I-can-handle-this attitude. Sun Hee Kil's sound design is, par for the course, too loud, but at least most of the lyrics are discernible.

Yes, there's posturing about celebrating diversity, protecting the environment, battling corporate greed, etc. But this isn't a message musical. Mostly, Bigfoot! is out to provide a good time, through means sillier than you thought possible. And in times such as these, couldn't we all use a little more silly?