High school musicals are a much loved rite of spring. But they can come in such different shapes, genres and flavors that they have little in common.

So can high schools. Are there any two less like the norm than CAPA and Schenley -- aka the Pittsburgh High School for the Creative And Performing Arts and Schenley-in-Exile?

There has been plenty of drama in the closing of Schenley's Oakland home and its removal to an uncomfortable way station at Reizenstein. But there's no real auditorium there, so for Schenley's traditionally high-profile musical, the wandering has taken them to East Liberty and a temporary home in the auditorium of rival Peabody.

Extraordinarily, even in this alien site, with regretful glances back to the superior lights and sound equipment imprisoned in their former home, the Schenley students and director Kelly McKrell have produced a wonder: "Return to the Forbidden Planet" is the silliest, most joyous high school musical comedy I've recently seen. A show little known to many, it should be a happy revelation.

The CAPA students and director Mindy Rossi-Stabler are also staging an unfamiliar show, but one diametrically different -- "Anna Karenina," a musical tragedy. They embrace this difficult material with earnestness and success, showcasing CAPA's considerable performing talent.

At both schools, the interracial student casts look refreshingly like the America of 2009. And because these wildly different shows both run through this weekend, Pittsburghers can still see this poignant epic tragedy with a traditional musical score and this goofy comedy strutting to the joyous rock of the '50s.

Obviously that pop score is the heart of "Forbidden Planet," maybe especially for aging baby boomers for whom "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood," "Who's Sorry Now?" and "Shake, Rattle and Roll" are anthems of remembered youth.

But this goofy, seldom-seen jukebox musical by Bob Carlton has a far more ambitious origin. The plot is a '50s sci-fi parody of Shakespeare's "The Tempest," the story of a magician/scientist (Prospero) and his daughter (Miranda) marooned on a strange and distant planet with their servant, Ariel, and a lurking, Caliban-like monster, when they encounter explorers from Earth.

Book and lyrics loot many other Shakespeare plays and sonnets for famous quotes, punningly adapted. For someone who knows Shakespeare, these can be very funny. "Two beeps, or not two beeps?" "Shall I compare thee to a Barbie Doll?" And my favorite, when it's discovered that an attacking monster comes from the mad scientist's id: "beware the ids that march!"

No, this Shakespeare isn't rocket science -- or rather, it is, '50s pop sci-fi style. Who knew the Bard was an incipient rock lyricist? "We split! We split!," they cry (that's Shakespeare), and then, "Great balls of fire!" (that isn't). I even had the good luck to see it on April 23, Shakespeare's birthday.

For those who don't know Shakespeare, "Forbidden Planet" must just seem, as it is, a collection of blank verse and modern slang, sci-fi gobbledygook and doggerel, puns and jokes, with great pop rock '50s and '60s songs coming together in a gratifying jumble.

The original "Forbidden Planet" was a 1956 sci-fi movie starring Walter Pidegon, luscious Anne Francis and Leslie Nielsen (!) as the handsome young man. I first saw this 1980s pop musical spoof in London, and I don't know why schools haven't made it a staple.

Whatever the Schenley students may think, they attack it with full energy and commitment. "We have liftoff," indeed! Amber Pinchback provides right-on bop-she-bop choreography, and with Aisha Sharif leading a sprightly nine-instrument combo, the cast members dance as if their energy really might send the hokey, student-designed spaceship of tinfoil, cardboard and computer screens right into orbit.

Lots of ensemble members get to do small bits and do them well, with spunky attitude. There's no one up there who doesn't want to be. Among the leads, I was most taken with the ditsy humor of Teressa LaGamba's Miranda, the zest of Loni Ben-Zvi's robot Ariel and the commitment of Natashia Anglin's Gloria and Michel Ellwood's Cookie.

Why have I never noticed how close Shakespeare is to classic rock? "Forbidden Planet" suggests that if only Cordelia could have broken into "Teenager in Love," King Lear's tragedy might have been averted.

Here's a little bit of iambic pentameter doggerel:

Though Schenley High School's future we can't tell, / The Schenley Musical's alive and well!

Cleopatra, Isolde, Guinevere -- in the library, that's the tragic female company Anna Karenina keeps.

But on stage, in the short-lived 1992 Broadway musical adaptation of Tolstoy's novel by Peter Kellogg and Dan Levine, she starts out a disgruntled observer of a comedy of manners. As the opulent aristocrats of Czarist Russia flutter and gossip, she's trapped in a cardboard marriage with a repressed bureaucrat. There may be social indiscretion in the offing but not tragedy.

Tellingly, though, the opening scene takes place at a train station, which also serves for Anna's encounter with her fated passion, Count Vronsky. Inevitably, the comedy does turn dark, and Anna ends her life at a train station, as well.

There is another story, though, that of Kitty, sought in marriage by the bumbling but good-hearted Levin. The two women are contrasting images of the effects of courtship, marriage and passion, Kitty and Levin providing the comedy that sets off the darkness of Anna's fate.

It has the classic feel of some love god's angry revenge. Anna denies the importance of love but dies from yielding to it, while her brother, the philandering Stiva, thinks love is everything (and has a funny song to say so) but never lets it obstruct his self-indulgence. Society is harder on its women, it seems.

These ironies are well captured in Rossi-Stabler's production, which is strongest in its big party scenes, swirled about by Jerry Ross' choreography. Visually, "Anna Karenina" is a marvel, sumptuous with Fannie White's period costumes, all, I'm told, made from scratch by a team of students.

A combo of eight, led from the keyboard by musical director David F. Pressau, realizes Levine's varied score, which incorporates such period dance measures as waltzes and mazurkas.

I happened to see alternates Jazmine Bailey and Kayla Tarply play Anna and Kitty and understudy Ethan Butler as Stiva (the latter, because Carter Redwood was away in New York, representing Pittsburgh in a national August Wilson monologue contest). All were solid performances, along with Dennis Robinson Jr.'s suave Vronsky and Brady Del Vecchio's anguished Karenin.

I'm told the lead Anna, Elizabeth Bailey, is something special, but the best performance I saw was Teddy McKenna's richly humorous Levin. I was also impressed by Krysta Bartman's imperious Princess Betsy, glittering with the pleasure of gossip.

Glitter is the word for CAPA's "Anna Karenina." In this world of 19th century wealth and privilege, tragedy is an individual, even peripheral affair, while Czarist society dances on toward its own future fall.