Chicago Shakespeare's warm, irreverent 'Cyclone' worth a ride

“Ride the Cyclone,” the Canadian cult musical making its U.S. premiere at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know about regret, resilience, revelation and redemption.

Its instantly recognizable characters — earnest, angsty, hyper-articulate teens — look like they just stepped off the set of TV's “Glee.” Its premise — six high school choir members killed in a roller coaster accident sing their life stories — hints at “Forever Plaid.”

But this warmhearted, irreverent tuner by Canadian writers/composers/lyricists Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell expresses its truths and tropes so cleverly, with such sincerity, it really doesn't matter.

Not when Richmond and Maxwell's score, ranging from hip-hop and glam rock to torch and art songs, is such a delight. Their book and lyrics have wit and heart. The show, which has been revised several times since its 2008 debut at Canada's Atomic Vaudeville theater, is zestfully staged by Rachel Rockwell, whose savvy choreography reflects show-choir style. Doug Peck's music direction is first-rate, as is the quartet under conductor/keyboardist Michael Kaish. And the cast is both engaging and indefatigable.

Mike Tutaj's evocative, inventively executed projections make a fine backdrop for the action, which unfolds on Scott Davis' dingy, decrepit, funhouse-inspired stage in a warehouse where the amusement park stores its castoffs.

Among those castoffs is The Amazing Karnak (an implacable Karl Hamilton), a mechanical fortuneteller who informs the sextet they're competing for a second chance at life and they themselves will determine the winner.

First up is Ocean (a deliciously self-important Tiffany Tatreau), the overachieving “mover, shaker, headline maker” who insists the world needs more people like her. Ocean's best friend Constance (the funny, endearing Lillian Castillo) is the nice girl whose recollection of those fleeting, seemingly insignificant moments that make up a well-lived life is the most personal and affecting scene in “Cyclone.”

Noel, the self-styled romantic and the town's only gay resident (a nicely droll Kholby Wardell, who originated the role and has played it in every production since) imagines himself a chanteuse in post-World War II Paris.

As Ukrainian transplant Mischa, Russell Mernagh expertly balances the young man's tough-talking gangsta rapper persona with the lovestruck teen. Jackson Evans is sweet and sincere as Ricky, the gamer-philosopher with a rich interior life who fancies himself an intergalactic superhero known as Space Age Bachelor Man.

Last but not least is Jane Doe (the angelic-voiced Emily Rohm), an unidentified choir member no one can recall, who has the porcelain skin and fathomless eyes of a China doll. Rohm's beautifully sung “The Ballad of Jane Doe” is easily the loveliest, most wrenching number in the show as evidenced by its well-deserved applause.

For a musical named for a thrill ride, “Cyclone” offers little suspense. It's clear almost from the start how this tale will end. But there is something special about this macabre little musical, and the fundamental truth it expresses that makes “Cyclone” a worthy ride.