It's always intriguing to see a new guy start at the top -- as when President Kennedy appointed his younger brother attorney general or Sean Combs made his acting debut in "Raisin in the Sun" on Broadway.

		Update Drama critic Christopher Rawson returned in the second week of the run to discover Jeff Goldblum was settling into his role.

Of course, the price a celebrated neophyte pays, starting at that level, is that he's under the magnifying glass from the start. Everyone rushes to judgment.

I'm leery of that, but, in the local case of Jeff Goldblum, Hollywood star and Pittsburgh favorite son, the evidence of Tuesday's opening performance in Pittsburgh CLO's "The Music Man" is clear: He's not quite ready for prime time on the musical comedy stage.

Not in this daunting title role, anyway. Goldblum does bring much that's attractive to Harold Hill, the traveling con man -- chiefly a goofy, limber physicality and surprisingly youthful energy and charm. But his jittery busyness and tentativeness make him seem far more unsure of his performance than Harold ever is of his scam.

As a result, CLO's solid, colorful production acquires an extra plot line. The story asks whether Harold will succeed in bilking the wary 1912 Iowans of River City before they see through his act, and whether his seduction of the sceptical town librarian will turn into real affection and trip him up or transform him.

But the production also engages us in the drama of Goldblum's baptism by fire, and it complicates this by casting his young fiance, Catherine Wreford, as Marian. I know actors should be allowed to leave their real lives offstage, but few in Tuesday's audience can have been unaware of the leads' relationship. So which was more gripping: Whether Marian's integrity would settle Harold down or whether Wreford's professionalism would stabilize Goldblum?

As portrayed by Goldblum, there has never been a Harold so in need of Marian's love to rescue him from rootlessness, which does give the ending of the musical a surprising poignancy. When the two kiss passionately (twice!) at the footbridge, both plots are resolved -- Harold is tamed and Goldblum has made it through.

		"The Music Man" WHERE: Pittsburgh CLO, Benedum Center, Downtown. WHEN: Through July 18; Tues.-Fri. 8 p.m., Sat. 2 and 8 p.m.; Sun. 2 p.m.; also 7:30 p.m. July 11. TICKETS: $14-$55; 412-456-6666.

I was worried that Wreford might seem young for Marian, but that qualm disappears on her first appearance, businesslike and prim. It makes perfect sense for Marian, who has a 10-year-old brother, to be in her mid-20s. The real "age" problem is with this Harold, who seems far too youthfully unsure of himself to be the accomplished con man or Lothario the story makes him out to be.

On the plus side, Goldblum brings glamour and an appealing quirkiness to the stage. His akimbo pied piper is all feet and hands, constantly in motion. He has a scatting intelligence that serves Harold well. His singing voice isn't much, but it's serviceable, and he's an effective, loosey-goosey dancer -- his and Marian's dance to "Shipoopi" is one of the joys of the show. Fittingly, it's that dance which is the turning point for both characters.

Now if he could just relax and let the role and his own charisma do their work. Jeff, do less! Leave the perpetual motion to Tommy Djilas. Start by dropping all those nervous hand-to-face gestures.

It's telling that Goldblum seems most in tune when he's in Wreford's hands. She has enough self-possession for both of them. Her Marian is a spunky gal, blossoming under the liberation that Harold's presence brings. And her voice rises satisfyingly to the opportunity of Meredith Willson's prettiest songs.

And of course there's a great big townful of other people. I'm especially impressed with how well director Richard Sabellico and choreographer Mark Esposito organize the crowds, never more than in the "Wells Fargo Wagon" number, when the big cast of 42 is joined by three dozen children from Buddy Thompson's CLO Academy. And the 2004 CLO ensemble makes a belated (not having been used in "1776" or the touring "King and I") and very welcome debut.

Two other performers get star billing -- Ed Begley Jr. as the comically befuddled Mayor Shinn and Illeana Douglas as his physically befuddled wife. Begley has to wrap his mouth around some of Willson's most eccentrically countrified exaggerations ("that fella's been the raspberry seed in my wisdom tooth"), and although not always clear (did his mike have a case of the woolies?), his perturbation is indeed entertaining. Douglas is properly foolish, though she never dominates as the self-promoting Mrs. Shinn can do.

I hope it's not just local prejudice to note that Jeff Howell, here in the small role of the Constable, and the CLO's last Mrs. Shinn, Barbara Russell, would have been at least as good.

Some less featured roles are in very good hands. A large contribution comes from Jim Walton as Marcellus, and Tim Brady makes more of a mark than you'd expect as the spoilsport anvil salesman. Tim Federle's Tommy and Autumn Weidman's Zaneeta lead the dancing with vivid characterization: I don't think I've ever before noted Zaneeta's great line to her father, "It's Capulets like you that make blood in the marketplace."

As Ethel Toffelmier, Jacinda Rose Swinehart has a lovely, understated moment of physical comedy that was an audience favorite. The audience also loved the barbershop quartet, which is one of the show's best jokes -- appealing, but also ubiquitous. This is how Willson salts period charm with enough starchiness to keep it from curdling.

The two lead children, Matt Serafini's Winthrop and Lyric Beth Ackelson's Amaryllis, sing with strong presence, and members of the Norwin Marching Band appear for the curtain call -- though not, I'm sad to report, by marching down the aisles.

I wouldn't bet against Goldblum yet. Tuesday was his first performance in a demanding role in an unfamiliar medium in a show put together at the CLO's traditional breakneck pace. Producer Van Kaplan took a worthwhile risk in posing Goldblum this challenge, and in the 13 performances still to come, he may still settle into its rhythms and let the show come to him.