When librettist Hunter Bell and composer Jeff Bowen decided to submit an entry for a musical theater festival with just three weeks to write it, they settled on the idea of a musical about the process of writing a musical – the very musical they were writing. That funny little postmodern seed grew into “[title of show],” which documents its own creation, through development, its off-Broadway opening and onto the Great White Way.

But – as Hunter and Jeff the characters ponder – will audiences view it as anything more than “self-referential, self-indulgent bullshit”?

Well… yes and no.

The meta-meta-musical is endlessly self-referential, painfully self-aware and frivolous. Its central message is to dream big and believe in yourself; the same sort of twee message dispensed in children’s cartoons. But “[title of show],” especially with the first-rate cast assembled for Diversionary Theatre’s West Coast premiere, has such a spirit of energetic, unpretentious fun that you can’t help but give in to the silly.

Like when a character says, “We have to end this scene soon because it’s starting to feel long,” and… blackout! Or when someone explains that moving across the stage without music suggests that no time has passed, while moving with a musical interlude means it has. Or musing, “If the finished script is in the envelope, should we still be talking?”

Tom Zohar (L to R), Tony Houck, Karson St. John and

Heather Paton kill off vampires (ie, doubts and insecurities)

in "[title of show]."

Photo: Ken Jacques

In the show, Hunter (Tony Houck) and Jeff (Tom Zohar) are two musical theater dorks dreaming of trading their day jobs for a shot at theatrical fame. They enlist their friends Susan (Karson St. John) and Heidi (Heather Paton) to fill out the cast and help kick start the creative process. “[title of show]” charts their unlikely path from “Two Nobodies in New York” to Broadway.

Houck and Zohar have endearing geek appeal, with the right give and take to portray the collaborators’ loving, bickering, wacky friendship. St. John is feisty and funny as the snarky Susan, a former actor who gave up the biz to star in a little work called “Corporate Whore,” in the role of Office Manager. Paton plays the only character to actually make a living in the theater business. She has a knockout voice and delivers a heartstring-plucking rendition of “A Way Back to Then,” a song about fulfilling your potential. St. John and Paton win big laughs and temporarily hijack the show in their uproarious duet, “Secondary Characters.”

Jeff and Hunter say they’ll use their musical to ask significant questions and get important points across, such as whether they’re writing for art, whether art is a springboard for fame, and will fame garner a paycheck, and will a paycheck mean they’re sellouts? These are questions they’ll ask themselves – and their audiences and critics – along the way, as well as tackling other issues such as writer’s block and killing off insecurities.

But wait, that’s starting to sound a little serious – and aside from the rare moment of earnestness, “[title of show]” winks and nudges with its tongue firmly in cheek. The musical is part homage, part send-up of the genre.

With pop culture shout-outs from Tim Gunn to Tippy the Turtle, and countless references to other musicals – including some 50 titles of various musical flops strung together into a semi-coherent song called “Monkeys and Playbills” – “[title of show]” becomes one furious game of Name that Reference. There are even local in-jokes for San Diego theatergoers in the know. Though an encyclopedic knowledge of musical theater history would certainly help, it won’t significantly lessen your enjoyment of the show if you’re lacking in that department.

The musical may not rise too far above the “We could put this exact conversation in the show!” type of self-indulgent humor, but Bowen displays much wit in his lyrics, along with satisfying, peppy melodies (played on a keyboard on stage by musical director Tim McKnight). And Bell has a good ear for the kind of snappy, shorthand dialogue that occurs between longtime friends.

Director James Vasquez keeps the musical zipping along – aided by the ensemble’s wild energy and sharp comic timing. Under his direction, the show manages to retain the kind of nonchalant, dashed off, almost improvised tone it most certainly had when it premiered at the New York Musical Theatre Festival in 2004.

And that’s not necessarily easy to achieve, for a work that is supposed to be of the moment. But where does it all end? “We can’t just keep adding in everything that happens to us,” Hunter reminds us.

Yet as the show closes, you half expect a reference to the West Coast premiere at Diversionary. For San Diego theatergoers, at least, it’s a pretty significant development.