Premier Lucien Bouchard, who sat next to lyricist Luc Plamondon during the show, sang along with the crowd on the final reprise of Le Temps des Cathedrales. Badgered for comments after the show, he said he was still under its spell, adding wryly, "If this continues, I'll turn into a critic."

Not likely. Judging from remarks by Quebec icons like Gilles Vigneault, who had "nothing but good things" to say about Notre-Dame de Paris, no one was prepared to find fault with this hallowed Quebec work. After all, it has already conquered Paris.

The question is, why? The first answer is Victor Hugo, author of the novel Notre-Dame de Paris, known in the English-speaking world as The Hunchback of Notre Dame. You might recall he also wrote Les Miserables.

The second answer is the music. Notre-Dame de Paris composer Richard Cocciante has come up with a sweeping, Mediterranean-flavoured romantic score, replete with memorable songs that leave people humming on their way out of the theatre.

Third, Plamondon's lyrics are finely phrased and poignant to the brink of a tear. Fourth, the singers, most of them successful recording artists in their own right, deliver beautifully. And finally, Gilles Maheu's innovative dance-theatre staging sets a unique, contemporary signature. Voila, a Paris hit is born. After that, Quebec is a given.

But what about the next big step, into London's West End next spring? That depends. Notre-Dame de Paris's biggest weakness is a serious one: the book. Like Plamondon's earlier hit, Starmania, Notre-Dame de Paris is a collection of songs in search of a compelling narrative. Only there's less excuse here, as Hugo supplied plenty of material.

The action is mainly encapsulated in the songs presented in a series of tableaux vivants with singers standing their ground in the spotlight and dancers dressed in funky, tie-dyed rags offering dumb-show commentary. The set, with its gray stone walls, gargoyles and moving columns, suggests the edifice of the title. The effect is Rent meets Les Miserables meets Carbone 14 (Maheu's dance-theatre company).

Notre-Dame de Paris offers the visceral excitement of a rock concert interspersed with modern-dance interludes (kind of like the Grammy or Juno awards ceremonies minus the chitchat). Martino Muller's acrobatic choreography is arresting. Each element succeeds in its own right. But the spectacle is overwhelming rather than the drama moving. A third dimension is missing. This is a show wherein the singers sing and the dancers dance. Acting was apparently not listed in the job description.

Daniel Lavoie, as the villainous priest, Frollo, is another revelation, giving a masterful performance that goes beyond mere vocals. His Tu Vas Me Detruire is a searing testimony to the fragility of a man besotted.

In the case of Bruno Pelletier, acting doesn't really matter. What he does to a song like Lune is pure alchemy, and the role of Gringoire, the poet, is a bit of a cipher anyway. If this charismatic dude in the blue trenchcoat wants to prophesy the end of the world in the year 2000, so be it.

With Esmeralda, however, it matters. This singing, dancing gypsy, played by Helene Segara, is supposed to be a firebrand. Segara's sweet, bell-clear voice is capable of creating a holy hush with the angelic Ave Maria Paien or seducing with the passionate Vivre. 

But she's inexpressive, and the dancers do most of her dancing for her. In the show's hit song, Belle, as three men (Quasimodo, Frollo and Phoebus) jointly pray to Lucifer for a chance to run their fingers through her hair, she poses blankly, like a storefront dummy, centre stage. It's embarrassing.

Patrick Fiori - who plays Phoebus, the soldier Esmeralda loves - is another notable non-actor with a great voice. And the miscasting here throws off the story. Given the choice between Pelletier's Gringoire and this guy, why would any red-blooded woman chose Phoebus? And he's complaining, in the song Dechire, about being torn between two women? It doesn't add up.

Luck Mervil, leader of the Montreal band Rude Luck, may not be an actor, either, but at least he has the moves, as well as the voice to play Clopin, leader of the hungry, barefoot hordes. 

Julie Zenatti shows promise in the thankless role of the spurned Fleur-de-Lys. Unlike the spurned Eponine in Les Miz, however, she lacks a dynamite solo.

Despite its dramatic flaws, taped music and $15 program, Notre-Dame de Paris is a delicious feast of song and dance. Company dance numbers like the raging La Cour des Miracles and the erotic Le Val d'Amour are breathtaking. 

One gets the sense that the somewhat tired genre of the modern musical is being ruthlessly reinvented here. The task might not be complete, but the process is exhilarating.

By Pat DONNELLI