Ambition is something "Candide's" Dr. Pangloss would have rejected. Why try, since we cannot possibly improve this best of all possible worlds, anyway?

We modern Americans, however, applaud it as an essential virtue.

A round of applause then, for Karla Boos and her Quantum Theatre's ambitious staging of the musical version of Voltaire's 1759 satire, buffed up by Leonard Bernstein's music and contributions from a former U.S. poet laureate with a few lyric witticisms tossed in later by Stephen Sondheim.

With its intricate score and sophisticated songs, "Candide" requires a considerable investment in musicians and singers, so it's quite a stretch for this small company.

"Candide's" book is complex as well, a slapstick tale of mostly sex, bouncing around Europe and South America and filled with a raft of characters, including a trio of singing animals.

Sounds like quite a challenge for any troupe, but Boos manages to further complicate this challenge with an additional layer of, not quantum mechanics, but auto mechanics.

She might as well have included Dinah Shore's "See the U.S.A. in Your Chevrolet" because Boos stages the musical in the service department of a defunct Chevy dealer.

Yet, much like its title character, this "Candide" survives all the froufrou on the strength of its leads, Point Park University's multi-talented John Wascavage as the young innocent, and Nicole Kaplan, a Carnegie Mellon grad, as Cunegonde, sex partner to the world and Candide's true love.

Kaplan's a polished performer with the voice to carry Bernstein's score. Wascavage, coming off a strong performance in "The History Boys" for Pittsburgh Irish & Classical Theatre, demonstrates a singing talent along with his acting.

The supporting cast is less consistent, led by Laurie Klatscher as the physically unbalanced Old Lady and Robyne Parrish as the libidinous maid, Paquette. A standout performance is required for the ridiculous Pangloss, but Jeffrey R. Howell, a regional stage veteran, seems distracted and gradually fatigued.

Backing them all is a seven-piece ensemble directed by Andres Cladera that, after a slow start, catches fire in the second act, driving this (im)morality tale to its surprisingly bland ending, one slightly less cynical than the Broadway version.

For most of us, Bernstein's upbeat, frenetic "Candide" overture is the signature of this musical bagatelle. Instead Cladera and Boos chose to open the show in a stately, ragged manner instead of, to use car lingo, the jump-start it needs.

Cladera conducts the music with restraint as though the musicians were still a little wary in the presence of the great Lenny. While the music plays, Boos sends half the cast out to loll around the raised platform that encircles the band, some bizarrely on cell phones, while the other half in mechanics' overalls huddles around an El Dorado convertible parked beyond the center of action, for reasons yet unfathomable.

Balloons arrive, are hugged, then punctured loudly, to make the point that the illusions of happiness in the best of all possible worlds will be punctured as well.

Another flat tire is the lousy acoustic nature of a space built of concrete and steel with a low ceiling. As it turns out, the best of all possible repair shops doesn't make the best place for a musical comedy. There are dead spots where the smart lyrics are indistinct and the smart music sounds tinny and thin.

The message of "Candide" -- work is the cure for what ails the world -- has worn thin, too. Voltaire's Age of Enlightenment could use a fresh interpretation, but "Candide" the musical isn't into explanations, but entertainment.

That's what you'll find at Quantum's service department these days.

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