Entertainment

In Kevin Moriarty, Dallas seems to have its own theatrical Cecil B. DeMille. Only deeper and more sincere.

The Dallas Theater Center's new artistic director finally opened his first show for the company on Tuesday, after a year spent sizing up his new city. The Who's Tommy showed off the new boss's savvy and showmanship, not to speak of his disciplined imagination.

Towering set? Check. Arena-level light shows? Check. Explosive dance numbers? Check. Enough water to fill the Red Sea? Check. Joy unbounded, like something by the great director Peter Brook? Check.

And never has Tommy's religious symbolism stood out so clearly. Pete Townshend's rock opera, which started as a 1969 concept album by the Who, obliquely tells the story of a child who becomes deaf, dumb and blind after repeated traumas. His parents try every solution, from doctors to faith healers, but Tommy remains closed in even when he displays an uncanny mastery of pinball. After a sudden opening to the world, he becomes a messiah-like religious leader whose influence remains even after his death.

Mr. Moriarty hired a local rock band, Oso Closo, to keep the score's hard-rock edge honed. One of the most interesting things about the production is the way he integrates the band into the show. The four musicians who can move around – not the drummer, of course – are effectively cast as angels who invisibly protect or comfort the young hero. You could even make a case for the long-bearded lead singer as the onstage deity. Suddenly you're suspecting that Andrew Lloyd Webber stole a lot of this for his slightly later Jesus Christ Superstar.

The cast, evenly divided between local pros and New York-based actors (with a group of Southern Methodist University students for good measure), could hardly be stronger, either as singers or actors. The leading ladies are especially strong: Betsy Wolfe as Tommy's ambivalent mother and Liz Mikel as the scary Gypsy (also known as the Acid Queen).

For the first half hour, nonetheless, the usual problems of staging a rock opera sometimes stubbornly persisted. If the actors moved around while the band sang, it was too much like a pantomime. But when they took over the microphones, it felt strange that they didn't grab a bass or guitar.

That changed dramatically – a word carefully chosen – when Cedric Neal came onstage during "Pinball Wizard" to replace the two young actors who played Tommy as a child. The character still can't speak, let alone sing, but by sheer force of imagination Mr. Neal makes the whole scene come alive.

And when the man at last lets loose that high-flying voice! Mr. Neal has the pipes, but also the charisma to let us believe in him as a worldwide guru. His performance shows how well Mr. Moriarty has used his 12 months researching the local talent.