The Cast Photo by Photo by Liz Lauren

Sure, the jubilant final strip number, "Let It Go"–nope, not that one–is every bit as much teasing fun as it has ever been. And the Act One finale, "Michael Jordan's Ball," is so well choreographed by Tor Campbell that it's possible to believe that these shlubs could become dancers just by pretending they are playing basketball. But what stands out here are other less showy moments. From the opening number, in which these broken, unemployed men describe themselves as "Scrap," Terrence McNally's book and David Yazbek's songs make them come alive as fully three-dimensional, struggling human beings. Two young gay men find the solace of each other's arms in "You Walk With Me." Two other men bare their souls to sleeping wives in "You Rule My World." A father sings an equally emotional ballad to an equally sleeping son in "Breeze Off the River." And these beautiful, heart-felt numbers feel every bit as important as the bolder ones. More so, perhaps, in that we are hearing these men's broken lives in the lyrics, and Corti's intimate staging is heartbreaking.

The Full Monty centers around one of these men, Jerry (Ben Mayne), whose ex-wife Pam (Rebecca Hurd), tired of waiting for him to pay long-overdue child care, is threatening to sue for full custody of their son. Desperate, and unwilling to stoop to positions like night watchman that he feels are beneath him, Jerry hits upon the stripping idea after realizing how much money the actual Chippendales are raking in at a local club. How much more would people pay to see people they know doing the stripping? And, to raise the stakes (and the interest), he vows to go for "the full monty" instead of stopping just short of completely naked as the professionals do.

It's a sign of just how low the men have fallen in their own esteems that he succeeds in hiring a bunch of them to do something this outrageous. With his longtime best friend Dave (the inimitable and many-named Jared David Michael Grant) and a seasoned, smart-alecky accompanist (Liz Pazik) who donates her time because it just seems like fun, Jerry auditions anyone who comes in the door. His troupe includes the aforementioned gay men (Adam Fane and Diego Vasquez Gomez), their former boss Harold (Jackson Evans), now jobless himself, and a self-proclaimed "Big Black Man" who goes by the nickname Horse (Bernard Dotson)–and don't think these guys fail to get mileage out of the connotations of that. The fact that, of all of them, only Harold knows how to dance a step doesn't deter Jerry in the least. He needs this in order to keep seeing his son Nathan (Ellis Myers on opening night, who alternates with William Daly), and he is determined to make that happen.

It is his relationship with his son, who clearly shows both the love he holds for his father and the empathetic frustration he takes on–that fuels Jerry. He may lose everything else in his life, but he can't lose Nathan. And Mayne's layered performance allows us to feel his pain as if it were our own. The lyrics of "Man" lay it out plainly: "What is a man? Why does he bother? 'Cause he's a man. 'Cause he's a father. He wants his kid, he wants his life ... he wants to be a man."

Of course, the show features women as well as men. In addition to Pazik (who manages to be both gruffly comic and maternal) and Hurd, who lets Pam's clear ongoing love for Jerry define her performance as much as her frustration with him, both Veronica Garza and Ann Delaney have showy roles. Garza, playing Dave's wife, a brassy woman deeply in love with her husband, makes this character both bigger than life and very real at the same time. And Delaney's Vicki Nichols proves to be far less motivated by the acquisition of the trappings of wealth than her husband Harold fears. In fact, the running theme here is that these women all love their flawed men much more than the men even realize.

Corti's interpretation of the musical makes all of its many layers plain. He is not on his own, of course. Campbell's choreography and Kory Danielson's music direction–Paramount uses a twelve-piece orchestra and Harold Wheeler's original orchestrations–are equally important, as are the technical designers (Adam Rosenthal's sound, Heather Gilbert's lights, Izumi Inaba's costumes–special shout out for the strip show breakaways–Michelle Lilly's set, etc.).

The Full Monty is a complex show. It exposes the struggles people undergo in difficult financial times. It gives us characters we can honestly care about. It is both raucously funny and beautifully tender. It even worships at the altar of love, which in this show is more powerful than just about anything. It is simply a joy in every way; if you love musicals, you should see it. And, by the way, don't worry about what else you might see: the men may well strip down, but the clever blocking and lighting work together to obscure it. Ultimately, it's a kind of MacGuffin, more a means to an end than an end in itself, and not what is most important here. It may be called The Full Monty, but what this show really lays bare is the potential and joy of the human spirit.

The Full Monty plays through October 6, 2024, at Paramount Theatre, 23 E Galena Blvd, Aurora IL. For tickets and information, please visit paramountaurora.com.