In the early ’60s, when Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons were hitting no. 1 on the charts alongside the Beatles and the Beach Boys, all three groups were recording up-tempo, nonthreatening songs like “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.” But while the Beatles and the Beach Boys followed the mood of their generation into the experimental territory of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and “Pet Sounds,” the Four Seasons adamantly remained a group of old-school guys in coats and ties who sang straight-ahead pop tunes about girls.

These “Jersey Boys,” as the new musical about Mr. Valli and the Four Seasons dubs them, weren’t playing for the anti-war protesters, but for “the guys who shipped overseas, and their sweethearts.” Their fans weren’t the fancy college kids but “the kids pumping gas and flipping burgers, the pretty girl with circles under her eyes behind the counter.” “Jersey Boys” paints its subsequent as American heroes, and even a steady stream of uncomfortable facts (jail time, abandoned families, Mafia connections) doesn’t get in the way of mythologizing the guys from the old neighborhood.

The show’s book lightens what would otherwise be a pretty heavy tale by shifting back and forth between two familiar and easy-to-swallow mythologies. First, there’s the basic American dream. Sure, the boys are a little rough, they serve time and borrow money from Mafia loan sharks, but after all, it’s Jersey – and they made it out of the projects to “American Bandstand.” Second, there’s the kind of rock ‘n’ roll victimology made popular by shows like VH1’s “Behind the Music,” where a man’s sins are the inevitable consequences of fame – and a grueling life on the road. “None of us were saints,” one of the Jersey boys says. “You sell a 100 million records. See how you handle it.”

Writers Rick Elice and Marshall Brickman (“Sleeper,” “Annie Hall,” “The Tonight Show”) have done such a good job of whitewashing the “Jersey Boys” story that odds are you won’t even notice that these guys are leading miserable lives. Tony-winning director Des McAnuff’s sure touch creates a wave of punchy narration and witty repartee, touching only slightly on the tragedies that spring inevitably from Fame and Life on the Road.

And judging by the delirious reaction of the crowd, you’ll be swept away by the show’s 34 musical numbers, most of them toe-tapping hits. The musical arrangements wisely reproduce the Four Seasons’s recorded sound, and the vocal blend on stage is close enough to the beloved originals to let you forget these aren’t the real Four Seasons. John Lloyd Young, who plays Frankie Valli, handles the tricky falsetto with aplomb and creates a convincing portrait of a stressed-out, chronically uncertain rock ‘n’ roll star. His high point comes when he leads the band onto the stage for its prime-time debut; he sings “Sherry” with enough raw concert energy to convince you that he really is making his big debut – and in fact, this is Mr. Lloyd Young’s Broadway debut. When he finishes and takes his bow, his eyes show you how far he’s come to reach this point.

Convincing performances by the other three portraying the original band members give the show a solid footing. Christian Hoff plays the big-talking gambler Tommy DeVito with Jersey-inflected swagger, while J. Robert Spencer gives hints of the pent-up emotions inside the strong, silent Nick Massi, and Daniel Reichard subtly differentiates the middle-class sensibilities of the band’s songwriting wunderkind, Bob Gaudio. All three performers move seamlessly from story to song, using the numbers to deep en character development.

This slick production delivers exactly what an oldies musical audience wants – a lot of songs, fast-paced scenes, and production values that justify the ticket prices. Klara Zieglerova’s two-story set allows for a prison-type catwalk on the upper level, employed to good effect by various subplots. Back-wall projections include a striking Jersey skyline and a breathtaking concert effect when the band members turn their backs to us and we see the audience stretching out before them, floodlights glaring, flashbulbs popping. The costumes are heightened versions of the clothes the guys would have worn, echoing the script’s heightened, slightly cartoonish version of the band’s true story.

The story arc of “Jersey Boys” is the only aspect of this carefully constructed package that feels unpolished. The overly long first act seems to end twice before it finally peters out, and the book takes some side trips that seem devised only to permit inclusion of a certain lyric. Searching for an ending, the show winds up at the band’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction – a rather sorry attempt to boost audience adrenaline that doesn’t quite take.

But the musical’s fans (and they are bound to be legion) aren’t likely to object to the excessively glossy production numbers in “Jersey Boys.”It’s clear that the story serves the same function as the few lines a DJ speaks before the next track – it only exists to increase our enjoyment of the songs. And that enjoyment can be immense. When Frankie Valli, dressed in his tailored dark suit, takes that old-fashioned microphone and croons “You’re Just Too Good To Be True,” the lighting is glamorous and lonely. When a horn section walks out onto the catwalk and begins to play, the excitement of it all surges through the crowd.

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