Audiences heading into the musical "High Fidelity" on Broadway come bearing prejudices. Like, hmmm, why make a Broadway show out of something that we've already lovingly experienced as a book and then a movie?

Adaptation fatigue has become something of a chronic condition afflicting discerning culture vultures across the land. Word of yet another production with a numbingly familiar name feels sort of like speed dating at a triplet convention.

And then there's the, uh, smallish issue about stuffing a story about music snobs into a genre that said music snobs would totally hate. The record store fiends detailed so completely in Nick Hornby's 1995 novel would convulse if forced to listen to Rodgers and Hammerstein on constant rotation.

So, like many people, I went into the theater to check out "High Fidelity" carting more baggage than a carousel at Logan International Airport.

I thought I'd hate it. I was prepared to hate it. I was maybe even looking forward to hating it.

But by the second act, it had me. I didn't love it. But I didn't hate it, either. More importantly, it made me question my theater prejudices.

Let's take the first one: adaptations. It's easy to dismiss Based Ons as lacking creativity. But as I sank down in my seat and admired the way that "High Fidelity" the musical smartly veered away from its root story at times (a song called "I Slept with Someone (Who Slept with Lyle Lovett)" is one such highlight), it became clear to me that dismissing a work simply because it's based on something else is pretty shortsighted. There is a strong precedent of culture feeding off of itself over and over again with admirable results.

Now, please note: I am not saying that "High Fidelity" is anything like Shakespeare. But the act of repeating is not itself a crime -- how well a performance has harnessed its influences should be what stands before the jury.

Which leads me to prejudice number two: Rock snobs singing show tunes? Why, I never!

While "High Fidelity" does offer musical numbers with insidery signposts (a scene that features a spot-on homage to both booty rap AND gangsta rap comes to mind), more than a few songs are straight up Broadway.

Ridiculous? I thought so at first. But when I considered it a bit more deeply, it seemed obvious to me that no crime was being committed. What Broadway musicals (and operas) do is take different places, different times, different cultures and frame them in a specific format. The whole premise is to show someone somewhere living their life and then -- Wham! Bam! -- there's singing and dancing.

My guess is that most people would feel just a tad disappointed if they didn't get just a smidgen of jazz hands in exchange for their Broadway ticket. Even if it was just jazz fingers.

"High Fidelity" give us a jazz middle finger, and it seems just right.

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Caryn Brooks is asap's entertainment editor.

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