“I Love You Because” is a late-summer confection, a romantic musical that, like cotton candy, tastes sweet going down but leaves you hungry for a little more substance.

It bills itself as a modern, gender-reversal retelling of Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice,” but don’t let that send you scrambling to reread that classic. You needn’t know Jane Austen from “Jane Eyre” to follow this tale, which treads the well-traveled path of stories about opposite types who repel, then attract, one another.

Predictable plot aside, Ryan Cunningham’s script more often recalls the novel with his characters’ names. One of the two main males is named Austin, two of the surnames are Bennet and Bingley, and a prominent — albeit unseen — personage is Catherine. Most amusingly, Fitzwilliam Darcy gets reworked as Marcy Fitzwilliams.

Nerdy Austin (Nick Gabriel), a greeting-card writer and wannabe poet, has his dreams of an ideal relationship shattered when he catches five-year girlfriend Catherine cheating. But his “love ‘em and leave ‘em” brother Jeff (Jason Maddy) tells Austin that indifference will win Catherine back and says the breakup is an opportunity for them to team up and roll through New York’s women with commitment-free sex.

(From left) Venter, Maddy, Mengelkoch, Gabriel

Photo by Aaron Rumley

Muddled free spirit Marcy (Kelsey Venter), meanwhile, has finally dumped her unfeeling two-year boyfriend and come to best pal Diana (Kristen Mengelkoch) for advice on what to do next. Diana is an actuary and, in one of the play’s funniest scenes, pulls out a chart and software numerically compiling such factors as length of rebound period, number of boyfriends (“over five, a girl’s a slut; under three, she’s a prude”) and time needed to find Mr. Right. Diana concludes that it’s crucial that Marcy date a Mr. Wrong to help her through her transition.

Jeff sets up a meeting between the couples through a special dating service (his reasoning is a hoot) and, predictably, they mix like hip hop and country music. But, of course, this antagonism is only temporary, and the relationships progress toward their inevitable culmination. There’s a lot of “should I, shouldn’t I?” dithering, and a potential glitch when Catherine (actually, her voice) reappears, but that seems only a gimmick to end the too-long first act. She’s hardly mentioned afterwards.

What keeps the proceedings and players from sinking in cliché are the frequent flashes of humor, especially Jeff’s recurring malapropisms and an ill-fated sex scene, and Joshua Salman’s varied and serviceable score (helped by Cunningham’s clever lyrics), which includes one touching and memorable number, “But I Do,” sung by all four principals.

The capable and likable cast is topped by Mengelkoch, who’s especially adept with musical comedy roles, and Maddy, who easily draws laughs with physical and verbal gyrations. All sing well, although Venter’s voice grew thin in the higher ranges, and they’re agile with the undemanding Justin Deater-Kyrsten Hafso choreography. Geno Carr and Heather Anne Paton, as various drinking/dining servers and baristas, add spice to the blend, although Carr — and director Rick Simas — went overboard with shtick (way too many silly karate kicks).

Marty Burnett’s set features John Finkbinner’s contorted renderings of Manhattan skyscrapers, with a large central semi-circular panorama flanked by a bar setting and the cubicle for the three musicians. That middle piece has doors for sliding out as-needed props, beds, desks and such. Matt Lescault-Wood’s sound design and Steve Withers’ musical direction kept the audio at listenable levels, and Matt Novotny’s lighting kept focus on the right places.

Jennifer Brawn Gittings’ costumes perfectly limn the characters, notably Austin, who apparently never sheds his tie, even during sex. The climactic costume (yes, there is one), if not called for in the script, is Gittings genius.

It would be nice to have another scene or two offering reasons why these disparate couples might show some growth and have romances lasting longer than a month after the sex cools. But hey, fairy tales aren’t about realism. Just hang your disbelief on the highest bough, and have yourself a merry little musical.

Cast and credits