Stephen Sondheim is probably the most revued composer of all time. Usually these draw from the whole course of his 50-year career, mixing in well-known classics (if not necessarily greatest hits) and worthy obscurities. They are almost always enjoyable, and “Opening Doors,” which plays through this weekend, is no exception.

Mr. Sondheim is the most personal of the great Broadway composers. More than any of his peers, he seems a complete universe unto himself, cut off by generational differences from his legendary predecessors like mentor Oscar Hammerstein and by artistic inclination from his contemporary colleagues like Cy Coleman and Jerry Herman.

Mr. Sondheim’s lyrics are brilliant, but his music is better. The words, although witty, are simple and direct in a manner that’s directly Hammersteinian: There’s little obfuscation, and the characters almost always tell you exactly what they’re thinking. In the music, however, he is able to suggest a zillion styles from project to project while still keeping everything resolutely Sondheimian.

“The Miller’s Son” is a “Greensleeves”-like English folk song. “That Old Piano Roll” uses Gershwin-esque syncopation. “Too Many Mornings” borrows melody from Anthony Newley’s “Who Can I Turn To” – only with considerably more complicated chord changes. “Another Hundred People” uses unusual meters and counterpoint to craft a better Burt Bacharach song than anything Mr. Bacharach has ever written.

Created and directed by David Kearney, “Opening Doors” is a retooling of “Moving Out” – not the Billy Joel dance show, but a project that played in London in 2000, in honor of Mr. Sondheim’s 70th birthday. There’s nothing startling in “Opening Doors,” but Mr. Kearney has unearthed unheard songs originally written for “Follies” (“Uptown, Downtown,” which was replaced by “The Ballad of Lucy and Jessie”), “Company” (“Multitudes of Amys”), and “Anyone Can Whistle” (“There’s Always a Woman”).

As it’s a revue, Mr. Kearney has removed the songs from the shows, stories, and characters for which they were written, putting the works in a new context.

“Opening Doors” uses the prerecorded voice of the composer himself, talking about his life and his career, around which songs are grouped thematically. Songs about friends. Songs about relationships. Songs about far-flung dreams. Songs about home. Men singing about women. Women singing about women. Eleven o’clock finale songs, character definition songs, comedy songs, and anthems.

The use of multimedia may seem a little impersonal, but in practice it actually somehow makes it warmer and more human. The statements from Mr. Sondheim are, in a sense, redundant, since he’s already expressed his views on all these topics much more eloquently in song. But he comes off less like an oracle and more like a mensch.

The entire revue is expertly assembled, staged, and performed. Eric Jordan Young approaches his songs as a wide-eyed innocent and does much of the dancing. Gregg Edelman gets most of the comedy, and is particularly effective in a gender-reversed treatment of “Company’s” “Barcelona,” which he sings in a Ricky Ricardo accent. (I’ve always thought it should be sung by Daffy Duck).

Mr. Sondheim’s shows are so female-centric they here require three women – Kate Baldwin, Victoria Clark, and Jan Maxwell – to essay the composer’s lineups of ingenues, jaded divorcees, and, in one especially well-constructed segment (that begins with “Passion’s” “Loving You”), desperate lovers. Ms. Clark’s “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” is a standout, delivered in a way that’s both declamatory and internal, and makes it seem like Mama Rose is trying to convince herself of something.

There should be a city law requiring that there should always be at least one show by a master such as Richard Rodgers, Frank Loesser, and Mr. Sondheim running at any time. Fortunately, it looks like Broadway is going to be crowded with Mr. Sondheim’s creations for many seasons to come.