'FLOYD COLLINS' OFFERS MUCH BENEATH SURFACE.

Byline: Katherine Karlin Correspondent

TWO AND A HALF years ago, when nine Pennsylvania coal miners were trapped underground, newscasters, tourists and politicians gathered at the site to bathe in the sensational horror. What is it about people buried alive that so transfixes us? Is it the courage of the victims, alone in the dark? Or is it the glee that we are not the ones down there?

``Floyd Collins,'' the 1994 musical currently on stage at the West Coast Ensemble, presents the true story of an amateur spelunker who became a celebrity in 1925. Caught up in the rush to find the next Mammoth Cave-style tourist attraction, Floyd was seeking his fortune in the labyrinth of caverns beneath the rocky Kentucky farmland when he was pinned by a boulder. For two weeks Collins survived in the wet, worm-infested cave while friends and rescuers shuttled from the surface, bearing food and comfort.

Composer and lyricist Adam Guettel explores a peculiarly American kind of fame: the everyman to whom we assign heroism. Through the hungry press, and through the unwitting complicity of Floyd's family, Collins becomes more of a publicity magnet than his cave could ever have been. The disparity between Floyd's lonely underground coffin and the carnival whirling over his head amplifies his sense of powerlessness and anonymity.

One of a new generation of composers for the stage, Guettel borrows less from the tradition of his grandfather, Richard Rodgers, than from the open-ended art songs of modern opera. Don't expect to hum these tunes after the show. However, the music, and Guettel's lyrics, which blend seamlessly with Tina Landau's brilliant book, create an ominous atmosphere and advance the play's dozen or so distinct characters.

Chief among these, of course, is Floyd, played - in the musical's L.A. premiere at the West Coast Ensemble - by Bryce Ryness as an American archetype: eager, entrepreneurial and none too bright. In the age of Charles Lindbergh and Henry Ford, the Floyd Collinses of the world could easily imagine fame within their grasp. Ryness has a light, lovely voice and a rangy physique, and if performing an emotionally grueling role flat on his back isn't impressive enough, he periodically jumps to his feet for some fantasy song-and-dance sequences.

Ryness is supported by a strong cast. Stef Tovar is Homer, Floyd's loyal, smarter brother who dreams of a life beyond Kentucky. The brothers' duet, ``The Riddle Song,'' recalls their boyhood in a burst of happiness and fraternal love. David Kaufman brings nuance to the role of Skeets Miller, the reluctant reporter who burrows into a hole looking for a story and emerges with a conscience.

As Floyd's sister, Nellie, Dana Reynolds may be a little too glamorous for the part. Reynolds is a strong soprano and she looks beautiful, but she seems to miss the other-worldly intensity that calls to Floyd through 150 feet of limestone. On the other hand, Larry Lederman and Andrea Covell, as Floyd's dour father and helpful stepmother, are perfect as simple people who find themselves at the center of a storm.

Richard Israel's direction makes great use of the set, designed by Evan A. Bartoletti as a fringe of support timbers around a spare cavern, and Lisa D. Katz, the lighting designer, makes an indispensable contribution contrasting Floyd's entombment with the glare of public life.

FLOYD COLLINS - Three and one half stars

Where: 522 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles.

When: 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 3 p.m. Sunday; through April 3.

Tickets: $32 to $35. Call [phone].

In a nutshell: A soaring musical about a dark footnote of Americana.