Bryson Battle (center) and Cast Photo by Marc J. Franklin

Some expert hands are assisting him. The music and lyrics are by Sia. James Ijames, who won a Pulitzer for Fat Ham, collaborated with Cardasis on the book and additional lyrics. Additional music is by Honey Dijon. And Darrell Grand Moultrie's up-to-the-minute choreography is a kinetic whirlwind, not always germane to the storytelling, but always thrilling to watch.

The movie Ulysses imagined production numbers; the stage one (Bryson Battle) mentally conjures a Black Jesus, towering above the rest of the cast and prodigiously gowned by Qween Jean, in the form of J. Harrison Ghee. "You're about to have the time of your life!" they announce at the outset, in that Billy Porter-esque begging-for-attention-and-applause mode that makes some of us reluctant to oblige them. But, in fact, they're not far off. For Cardasis has a simple, stirring story to tell, and it lends itself ideally to the format of a conventional musical.

Not at first, with Ghee encouraging the audience to scream like we're at a Taylor Swift concert, and much of it does–off-putting to some of us older folks. The opening number is overmiked to unintelligibility; fortunately, Gareth Owen's sound design soon settles down. Ulysses is a good, churchgoing kid, a trait supported by his Aunt Rose (Joaquina Kalukango), who's looking after him while Amara (Kristolyn Lloyd), his overworked nurse mom, toils away at too many hospital shifts. Rose is pious in the worst judgmental way, forbidding Ulysses from joining the church choir because, as she puts it, he's too "flouncy." It embarrasses her, and in the movie it also embarrassed Ulysses' little brother, who goes missing here.

Ulysses' inner turmoil is succinctly spelled out in his opening shot, "Beyond" (I'm guessing at song titles, as the program doesn't list them), where he pours out his desire to sing ("My voice is my only good thing") and Battle, shifting effortlessly into head voice, does sing like an angel. A chance subway encounter with young Raymond (Jackson Kanawha Perry), and instant mutual attraction, steers Ulysses to Saturday Church, a Village retreat whose sign declares, "All Are Welcome."

The Cast Photo by Marc J. Franklin

The plotting mirrors the movie's closely, but the songs, as songs in a solid musical will, amplify the emotions and let the cast shine. "Five Minutes Away" is Rose's affecting memory of her closeness with her late brother; one wishes Kalukango had more to sing. (Cardasis does add a backstory, missing in the film, that helps explain why Rose is so tough on Ulysses.) "Wrapped in Cellophane" catches Ulysses at his most vulnerable moment, out on the street, and leaving us anxious over how he'll find his way home. There's eventually a ball, of course, with one faaaabulous Qween Jean frock after another, and Ulysses resplendent in a gown that needs to be seen to be believed. And a word must be said for Dhairius Thomas, whose wig and hair design not only dazzles, but inspires the funniest line in the script.

Quibbles? Some. Under Whitney White's mostly astute direction, the chorus appears and disappears at illogical junctures. We know Saturday Church is on Christopher Street, but we'd like a stronger sense of what neighborhood–heck, what borough–Ulysses is being raised in. Ghee, also playing Ulysses' stern, traditionalist Pastor Lewis, doesn't seem as invested in it as they are in donning Black Jesus's silver gowns and two-foot-high sparkling red boots. Amara and Ebony meet in a subway car holding just the two of them, where they bond without knowing who the other is–unlikely, much? David Zinn's set is basic, mostly brick walls and platforms, with two benches unpersuasively portraying that subway car; it's helped by Adam Honoré's vibrant lighting. And while Qween Jean's fashions are stunning, a practical question: Even if they're supposedly homemade, how does this bunch afford the material?

But you know what, I'm done complaining. Saturday Church generates an LGBTQ pride and radiance that hasn't been felt theatrically since Cats: The Jellicle Ball, with which it happily shares some visual and attitudinal outrageousness. It would surely scandalize the MAGAs if they were brave enough to venture to NYTW, which I doubt they are. Its messages of inclusion, affirmation, and the merging of adopted and natural families into a unified, supportive whole is so positive and, in these times, so needed. Even if you're not particularly into drag (I'm not) or don't totally understand the trans community (I don't), you head out of NYTW with Black Jesus' words reverberating: "Can I show y'all what collective love looks like, what collective joy looks like, what collective healing looks like?" That's what we get. Take that, far right!