Seventy-three, folks. Seventy-three. That’s the number of Broadway musicals, many of them historic, that included at least one cast member from this weekend’s remounting of “70, Girls, 70.” “Hello, Dolly!” “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” “Man of La Mancha.” “Oklahoma!” “Dance of the Vampires.” (Hey, history comes in many different flavors.)

Yes, thousands of performances’ worth of experience was on display, an abundance of talent befitting City Center’s glittery “Encores!” series of semi-staged revivals. And while such talent certainly could have been applied to sturdier material than this rickety vehicle for performers of a certain age, that collective pool of theatrical know-how went a long way toward convincing its (admittedly partisan) audience otherwise.

“70, Girls, 70” is perhaps known best for two things: It was the third 1971 musical to rely heavily on older performers, opening on the heels of “Follies” and a starry “No, No, Nanette” revival, and its structure served as a template for the show John Kander and Fred Ebb wrote after this one, “Chicago.” If audiences are more familiar these days with those other titles than with “70, Girls, 70,” which only lasted a month, there’s a reason.

The book by Mr. Ebb and Norman Martin (and adapted here by David Thompson) is a paper-thin trifle about crafty men and women “in the teatime of life,” led by the plucky Ida Dodd (a grievously miscast Olympia Dukakis), who steal furs and other luxury goods from all the finer department stores. It’s all for a good cause, as they face eviction from their West 100th Street hotel and want to buy the building for themselves. Their increasingly brazen heists are leavened with various glitches and barely passable wisecracks: “I’m not sure I could live through another scare like that.” “I’m not sure I did.”

Realizing perhaps that this was a perilously slim thread for a musical, Ebb and Mr. Martin bracketed the material with a serious of vaudevillestyle star turns, as several of the lead characters step forward, shout “Hit it, Lorraine!” to the onstage pianist, and have a go at a patter number or dance break. The end result was by many accounts diverting but confused, and director-choreographer Kathleen Marshall’s good-natured Encores! staging didn’t exactly reclaim “70, Girls, 70” as a lost gem itching to be rediscovered.

But Ms. Marshall – who also choreographed the Roundabout’s “Follies” revival in 2001 – did know how to get the most out of her performers, most of whom were on the far side of the titular age. (To be honest, quite a few steps looked familiar from her “Follies” work.) The chorus numbers were deftly tailored to what each individual could handle; in fact, Diane Findlay, Ronn Carroll, and Ira Hawkins all appeared to have plenty more to offer.

She also got considerable support from her principal cast. Mary Jo Catlett and Tina Fabrique, who led the show’s vaudeville portion, could take their sugar-and-sandpaper act on the road if they wanted. Charlotte Rae’s nonpareil coloratura squawk brought down the house with “Go Visit Your Grandmother,” a duet with the show’s token youngster, the talented Mark Price. Anita Gillette (as the ditz) and Carole Cook (as the vamp) reminded the audience how to use every arched eyebrow and slumped shoulder to the fullest, and Bob Dishy and George Irving offered capable support as the gentlemen.

The one unfortunate exception was Ms. Dukakis, who starred in exactly zero of those 73 original casts. Her wayward vocalizations and draggy rhythms would have been noticed in any musical, let alone one packed with ringers like this one. Encores! conventions allow for scripts to be consulted as needed, but Ms. Dukakis clung to hers for dear life, barely looking up during her many scenes.

Encores! had its biggest hit so far with “Chicago,” and vestiges of that show could be spotted throughout “70, Girls, 70.” The entr’actes are remarkably similar, for one thing, and much of the vaudeville pastiche could fit right into “Chicago” with just a few tweaks to Ebb’s lyrics. But that show’s bawdy tone sits less comfortably within the cozier “70, Girls, 70” framework. An overly coy Act I number is devoted entirely to speculation over one central couple’s bedroom habits – titled “Do We?” if you must know, and resolved decidedly in the positive. And hearing old-timers toss around PG-rated cuss words gets old fast.

Folks who come to Encores! for the sumptuously conducted full-size orchestra were likely disappointed: Paul Gemignani presided over a mere 14 members (less than half the usual number), and Don Walker’s original orchestrations came off surprisingly poorly. Lalan Parrott’s presence as Lorraine softened the blow, however; this diminutive pianist kept Mr. Kander’s toe-tapping songs barreling along, including one sequence where she came down and center for a barn-burning torrent of barrelhouse piano runs. At least for one weekend, Harry Connick Jr. and his “Pajama Game” antics had some competition.

But not even the flat book or illconceived central performance could dampen the good will generated onstage. (A few chorus members actually had the giggles during the first blast of applause.) So what if Ms. Rae pandered a little with a quick bump-and-grind or Mr. Kander’s uptempo songs occasionally proved a little too uptempo for some performers? Whatever “70, Girls, 70” lost in precision, it just about made up in infectious brio.Take it from Mr. Irving, whose credits stretch back to 1943’s “Oklahoma!”: “What I’ve got is young blood. It’s just that I keep it in a very old container.”