We might as well call it Jerry Lewis' "Damn Yankees," given the

adoring reception the 69-year-old comedian got as he double-took andsoft-shoed his nimble way through the role of the Devil in therevival now at the Ordway Music Theatre. The show was written by George Abbott and Douglass Wallop, withwords and music by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross and direction byJack O'Brien. There also was a large group of other performersplaying other pertinent roles. But when one of the characters is the Devil, you know where theattention is going, and when that Devil is Lewis, past master of"Hellzapoppin" stage business, you might as well throw in the toweland turn center stage over to him. Lewis has never been shy about taking it, and he does in thisshow, though not at all as you might imagine. The fact is that the1955 "Damn Yankees" is a B musical, and everyone save Lewis seems toknow it. Everyone pulls out the stops to make it go, creating big,overdone characterizations at best, caricatures writ large at worst- except Lewis. He knows he has the upper hand, the best lines, theshow's funniest song. He's the one gloriously nasty guy in a sea ofsappiness, and he doesn't need to push it. Through 80 percent of the show he's the model of restraint,snapping out his lines without pushing for laughs (his biggest oneis when he puts on a devilish sneer and says he hates charities),taking the famous Lewis double take with quick, eye-flappingsubtlety. He's calm in a sea of overacting, and he stands out likePavarotti in a karaoke bar. This is the punch the show needs. It's B material, but Bmaterial with a goofy charm that more or less matches Lewis'. He holds himself back until he finally gets hisshow-stopper, "Those Were the Good Old Days," and O'Brien gives hima clear run at it. Lewis pulls out all his Catskills comic past,complete with a Devil red coat and cane. It's a great routine, andhe loves doing it, playing with the audience, smirking, scowling,tossing in nasty little innuendoes and, for his real fans, pullingout that big, brassy voice, which sounds like a really manic,demented child demanding Ritalin. It's a terrific moment, and by the time he gets to it, it fitsright in. He follows that with "Two Lost Souls," a superb duet withthe temptress-gone-nice Lola, and manages to expose a sweetnessbeneath everything as well. In any other situation, Lola, played by Valerie Wright, wouldbe the subject of high praise, and when Lewis isn't acting out, shedominates. She's sensational, managing to be sexy and hilarious in"Whatever Lola Wants" and "A Little Brains, a Little Talent," a rareblend of performer, actress and comedian. This devilish twosome controls the show and sends it spinning.O'Brien has wisely kept it 1950s - lots of pink, charcoal and coral- and he's done a fine rewriting job. The story, about a Washington Senators baseball fan who sellshis soul to become Joe Hardy, a star capable of finally beating theSenators' nemesis, the Yankees, is passably amusing and nothingmore. But O'Brien beefs up the part of Hardy's abandoned wife, andhe's added some nice touches to the locker-room and baseball-fieldscenes (though Rob Marshall's choreography is only sporadicallysuccessful). It doesn't groan as much as it might, and fairly zingsalong. David Elder as Joe sings well and looks like a ballplayer, butcan't elevate the part past all-American wooden innocent. (I don'tthink anyone can.) Amy Ryder has some great turns as Sister, andeveryone else is fine given the hyperkinetic style O'Brien uses,perhaps as a way to deal with Lewis' natural hyperactivity. Lewis surprises them, though, by being mostly quiet, taking thefocus by his calmness and then, when it counts, grabbing the stageand wringing the life out of it. It's his show, and he earns it.