Fans of Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, X-Men and other such superheroes should occasionally offer an homage to Baroness Emma Orczy. Who? Well, she’s the 1900s writer who created the Scarlet Pimpernel, and that character became a prime prototype for the hero who alternates between living a secret identity and making life miserable for evildoers.

Pimpernel began as a short story, which Orczy turned into a novel and play. The musicalization, with a book and lyrics by Nan Knighton and score by Frank Wildhorn, debuted on Broadway in 1997. Now the musical is getting a vibrant rendition at Welk Resort Theatre.

Wildhorn has had several musicals open on Broadway, all of which drew critical disdain and lost money. “Jekyll & Hyde” did manage to develop a following, but most of those cultists — called Jekkies — have pretty much gone into hyding. “Pimpernel’s” path was considerably different. On Broadway, it opened and flopped. It was revised and reopened. Still no go. It was re-revised, had a short tour, then re-reopened. That last version, termed “Scarlet Pimpernel 3.0,” pleased some critics and crowds but couldn’t overcome the early negativity. Since then, however, a procession of productions across the country and world — like the Welk’s and a 2003 edition at Starlight — demonstrate that “Pimpernel” has more staying power than the other Wildhorn works.

The bad guys in this tale are the French revolutionaries in the 1790s Reign of Terror, who, under Robespierre, turned their rebellion against the monarchy into a bloodbath of revenge and repression. The clandestine hero is an English nobleman, Sir Percy Blakeney, who marries Marguerite, a prominent French actress. When it appears that a betrayal by Marguerite has caused the deaths of Percy’s good friends in France, he shuns her and organizes his friends into a surreptitious band of spies and fighters to rescue endangered aristocrats and innocents from the guillotine. He wants his men to appear to be frivolous fops, and he designates, as their symbol, the titular red flower.

So there’s great fun in watching the transformations and disguises (even if the Pimpernel’s false nose is clownish and once dropped off), along with the adventure, intrigue and romance. As with Superman and his Clark Kent glasses, some scenes strain one’s suspension of disbelief, most notably when Marguerite has a covert conversation with the Pimpernel without realizing he’s her husband. (The illusion was further lost when a moron in the audience answered her ringing cell phone.)

Wildhorn’s scores are frequently panned because of his tendency to load them with pop ballads featuring held-note finishes. But those generally work in “Pimpernel,” and the Welk cast obliged with strong singing. The acting was not always so, although adequate for Jon Engstrom’s zippy direction. Allan Snyder makes an athletic and flamboyant Pimpernel, and Michaelia Leigh captured Marguerite’s poignancy. Matthew Tyler, as the conniving Chauvelin, is too much a vanilla villain with a wandering accent.

Engstom also choreographs cleverly, particularly when the fops do their dancing. Patrick Hoyny’s sound design serves well, although Justin Gray’s music direction was a mite heavy on the trumpet.

The play’s visual aspects are excellent. Much credit goes to Carlotta Malone’s design for the costumes and Jason Craig Donaldson for the wigs, but give extra kudos to Andrew G. Hammer’s sets. Pimpernel’s many and diverse locations challenge a scenic designer, and Hammer handled the task with ingenious versatility, notably using revolving centerpieces. A guillotine, for instance, becomes a bookcase. It’s all lighted properly by Jennifer Edwards-Northover, with stage footlights adding to the 18^th century ambiance.

For an extra illusion, there’s even a bloodless beheading.

Cast and credits