Aida.

With forgettable songs and a rejiggered plot, the new Aida can't live up to the talents involved

Aida * Palace Theatre, New York City (runs indefinitely) * Music by Elton John, lyrics by Tim Rice, book by Linda Woolverton, Robert Falls, and David Henry Hwang * Directed by Robert Falls * Starring Heather Headley, Sherie Rene Scott, Adam Pascal, and John Hickok

"We must have been lovers in a previous life." How many times have you heard starry-eyed love-birds say that? And have you ever noticed how none of them ever think they were Mongolian yak farmers or Mexican prostitutes but usually nobility such as Napoleon or Nefertiti? That kind of romanticism fuels Elton John's Disney-produced Broadway musical Aida.

It begins at a metropolitan museum, where a crowd of contemporary 30-somethings, including a couple of stylish lesbians, are inspecting ancient artifacts. An interracial romance blooms as a black beauty (Heather Headley) and a blond Ken doll (Adam Pascal) cruise each other. Suddenly one of the mummies starts to sing. That would be Amneris (Sherie Rene Scott), who transports us back to ancient Egypt, where she's betrothed to Radames (Pascal), a warrior who's next in line for pharaoh but who becomes smitten with a Nubian slave he's captured, who turns out to be Princess Aida (Headley).

The whole show is their dreamy fantasy, which may explain why it has all the ethnographic authenticity of, well, a Disney movie. The Egyptian army lopes around to a reggae beat. The Nubians have a strange predilection for gospel music. And Radames's father, Zoser (John Hickok), the villain who poisons the pharaoh to get his son onto the throne, leads a gang dressed right out of The Matrix.

Aimed at the audience for such "politically correct" Disney cartoons as Mulan and Pocahontas, Aida is staged with all the taste of a Debbie Allen production number. Headley has a fantastic voice, but it's wasted on surprisingly unmemorable Elton John tunes and Tim Rice's flat-footed lyrics. Pascal, so sexy in Rent, is stiff here and strains to sound like Michael Bolton.

There are a few moments of trashy fun, most of them provided by genius designer Bob Crowley's sets and costumes, especially on "My Strongest Suit," an outrageous fashion show set to a Motown beat. And for me, the discovery of the evening was Scott, who wildly camps up Amneris as if she were a character on Sex and the City but also beautifully underplays the ballads she's given to sing. Now there's a voice destined to be reincarnated in better shows than Aida.

Shewey is the editor of Out Front: Contemporary Gay and Lesbian Plays, published by Grove Press.