For the sake of the butterfly we love the cocoon. "The Full Monty" is gloriously inspired by the popular film about unemployed working-class Brits, lovable losers who give themselves a second chance to make money and feel good. This fully Americanized musical version is a rock-solid charmer, the perfect christening for the lavishly intimate 549-seat Drury Lane Water Tower Theatre, the latest stage splendor to hit the Gold Coast. Book writer Terrence ("Love! Valour! Compassion!") McNally and composer/lyricist David Yazbek retain their source's sympathy for life's underdogs and their hard-won hopes.

Though the songs spell out what the film was smarter to hint at, this is an endearing evening rich with fully earned emotion and loaded with laughs. The backdrop is hard-luck Buffalo, a downsized Rust Belt burg where layoffs strain marriages and the good times refuse to roll. Desperate to pay his child support and encouraged by his son Nathan, Jerry Lukowski (charismatic Peter James Zielinski) recruits his out-of-work buddies to raise money and hope. Determined to improve on the Chippendale dancers (who their wives and girlfriends too easily adore), they'll create their own homegrown Minksy's Burlesque complete with frontal nudity. Call it summer stock striptease.

The musical lovingly assembles their fears and needs, including two closet cases who quietly come out, a hefty husband with body-image issues, and an African-American who worries that his body will undermine a certain stupid stereotype. There's a raucous song that mocks suicide, a riotous production number inspired by Michael Jordan's jump shots, and "The Goods," a role-reversing, table-turning anthem that gleefully depicts the women objectifying the men. Scene- stealing with larcenous delight, Renee Matthews wows the crowd as Jeanette, a hard-boiled showbiz vet who rallies the guys whenever they hit rock bottom.

The real exposure comes well before the famous "full monty" that concludes the fun with a technical tease. Over nearly three hours we get to know these wonderful amateurs from the inside out. Contagiously danced and solidly acted, Jim Corti's revival revels in blue-collar Chicago authenticity and convincing casting. And for those who care there are two rock-hard, Chippendale-style dancers to provide a creative contrast. It's redemptive to see a show that combines unflagging humor with a refusal to condescend to its characters or soft-peddle their struggles. When the ensemble belt out the rousing finale "Let It Go" (with many of them mingling with the audience to up the ante), the title proves terrifically true-and not just for these Buffalo believers.