By Peter Marks
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 25, 2007; C01

Have you hugged a nerd today? After a couple of hours in the company of the orthographically gifted geeks of "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee," you'll be hard-pressed not to find yourself beaming sympathetically in the direction of the nearest egghead.

This charmingly knitted show, docked this week and next at the National Theatre, makes delightful sport of a peculiarly American competition: the contest to find out who among a preternaturally brilliant array of young savants can best spit out the correct letter order in "acouchi" and "elanguescence" and "omphaloskepsis."

Because so much of its wit emanates specifically from the hilarious give-and-take among spellers and judges, however, "Spelling Bee" turns out to be the rare case of a musical in which the most entertaining parts come between the songs.

The score is by the celebrated William Finn, composer of "Elegies" and, even more memorably, the two one-act AIDS-era musicals that became "Falsettos." His songs for "Spelling Bee" -- many of them poignant/goofy autobiographical solos for the socially challenged pubescent contestants -- are very actor-friendly, especially the numbers for a neurotically overachieving Asian American student, played by Katie Boren, and a flaky flower child (Andrew Keenan-Bolger).

It's possible that "Spelling Bee" would feel a little naked without the songs. Still, most of them serve as mere gulps for breath between the laugh-out-loud rejoinders that book writer Rachel Sheinkin scatters throughout the evening. (James Lapine's resourceful direction ensures that the verbal daggers cut cleanly.) Many of Sheinkin's best jokes come in the form of the ridiculous examples that Vice Principal Panch (the entertainingly glib James Kall) composes when the spellers ask that a word be used in a sentence.

He illustrates "strabismus" -- a term having to do with an inability to achieve binocular vision -- thus:

"In the schoolyard, Billy protested that he wasn't cockeyed. 'I suffer from strabismus,' he said -- whereupon the bullies beat him harder."

The musical leaps with almost sinful relish at the opportunity to send up the rituals of a local bee, from the smarmy ministrations of a former winner who's now the contest hostess (the excellent Roberta Duchak) to the tough-love bedside manner of the "comfort counselor" (the equally funny Kevin Smith Kirkwood), an ex-con who consoles girls knocked out of the bee with a tad more, um, dedication.

Perched on the risers of set designer Beowulf Boritt's resonant mock-up of a middle school gymnasium sit the contestants, a gallery of advanced-placement misfits: the insecure girl from the broken home (Vanessa Ray); the overconfident boy with a tumescence issue (Justin Keyes); a pint-size activist (Dana Steingold) with two gay daddies and the PC surname of Schwartzandgrubenierre; and, most magnetically, the unkempt, hyper-allergic science geek who spells out words with his "magic foot."

As played by ample-but-nimble Eric Roediger, this last speller, William Barfee ("with an accent aigu," he explains), suggests the quintessence of the geek aesthetic -- if geeks could actually manage to acquire one. (If you've ever listened to "White and Nerdy," Weird Al Yankovic's scorching parody of "Riding Dirty," you know exactly whom the talented Roediger is playing.)

Barfee and his rivals are given songs linking their characters to common teenage traumas and foibles, and since our hearts are supposed to melt for each and every one of them, this all gets a bit much. A plaintive number about parental love, for Ray's Olive Ostrovsky, comes far too late and is inserted far too clumsily in the proceedings for the audience to summon the requisite empathy.

A much shrewder gambit -- one that has the potential to seem hokey but in fact adds a layer of satisfying unpredictability -- involves the audience itself. Four ticket-holders are selected before each performance to participate in the musical, as contestants in the bee. Their contributions are integrated smoothly into the early phases of the contest; even the teasing introductory remarks made up about each of them have the right amount of snap.

It's fun to see how quickly a random person takes to the limelight; part of the pleasure of "Spelling Bee" is that ordinary people can seem to be out there on a limb and yet never in danger of being humiliated. Tuesday night, the last of the four audience contestants standing appeared to confound the actors by "correctly" spelling a word -- "catterjoons" -- that, it seemed, was supposed to stump him and earn him a trip back to his seat. The cast seemed shocked, and the audience, of course, lapped it up. Having seen the show before (at which the same sort of surprise occurred), I wondered whether there was just a tad more in the script here than anyone was letting on. And there was: An online check revealed that "catterjoons" -- in several spellings -- was cooked up for this show.

"Spelling Bee" is safe ground for the young ones -- even if a lot of the one-liners will sail over their heads. And if a song about erections would give you agita, you might want to have an age-appropriate explanation at the ready. Even so, the sensibility of the show is so gentle -- at last, a musical championing people with pocket protectors -- it's hard to imagine anyone taking offense. "Spelling Bee" is a show that wears corrective lenses with pride. And whose comic vision is well-nigh 20/20.

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, music and lyrics by William Finn, book by Rachel Sheinkin, conceived by Rebecca Feldman. Directed by James Lapine. Costumes, Jennifer Caprio; lighting, Natasha Katz; sound, Dan Moses Schreier; orchestrations, Michael Starobin; choreography, Dan Knechtges; music director, Jodie Moore. About 1 hour 45 minutes. Through Nov. 4 at National Theatre, 1321 Pennsylvania Ave. NW. Call 800-447-7400 or visit http://www.telecharge.com.