theater For his foray into innocent filmmaking (or at least one that didn't involve drag queens eating dog feces, chicken fucking or sex with Edie Massey), John Waters told a different tale of his native Baltimore: one where the early 1960s pastel kitsch — beehives, dance contests — was tinged with a social redemption unseen in his catalog of shame. He called it Hairspray. Rather than attempt to situate his usual band of freakish outcasts against a middle-class backdrop, Waters created a typical, albeit chunky, working-class family, the Turnblads, with a daughter whose sashaying self-confidence gave her the cocky wherewithal to foil any form of skinny-girl mocking. Not only did Tracy Turnblad dress in short skirts, win the big contest and the handsomest boy in high school, she rallied Baltimore against all intolerance — towards fat people, sure, but mostly the racial kind, integrating the dance contests and making certain all those once cast out lived beyond prejudice. If that sounds lofty for a director whose previous personal best was an Odor-O-Rama scratch 'n' sniff card, you're right. That it made perfect fodder for the Broadway-ish touring circuit, though, is no surprise. With zero involvement from Waters, the bizarre has been removed from the theater version, despite its attempt to channel the spirit of the late great Divine by getting Michael McKean, Bruce Vilanch and Harvey Fierstein to essay the role of Edna Turnblad. Weirdness has been replaced by a sense of twisted feel-good musicality from composer Marc Shaiman (South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut) and the indignant winsomeness of lyricist Scott Wittman. "Mama, I'm A Big Girl Now" and "The Legend of Miss Baltimore Crabs" may be no substitute for the weirdness of Mink Stole, but it's a start.

Hairspray: The Musical, Tue., Aug. 23-Sun., Sept. 11, $26.50-$83, Merriam Theatre, 250 S. Broad St., 215-732-5446 or 215-336-1234.