Daniel Radcliffe knows how to 'Succeed'

He sings. He dances. Yes, the British mega-star formerly known as young Harry Potter even shaves, proudly, while delivering that irresistibly all-American self-love ballad, "I Believe in You," to his mirror in the executive bathroom in "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying."

But enough feigned incredulity about the many talents and genuine appeal of Daniel Radcliffe, who made his daring Broadway debut two seasons ago as the disturbed stable boy in "Equus." Although the headline then was his nude scene, his musical-theater debut in the 50th anniversary revival of Frank Loesser's 1961 Pulitzer winning classic is, in many ways, equally exposed.

And he is blithe, brave and unabashedly adorable (without really trying) as J. Pierrepont Finch, guiltless corporate climber, in director Rob Ashford's slick and confident (if choreographically contrived) production.

Radcliff has a small but expressive voice and a conscientious but altogether joyful dance technique. He has a sincere face that doesn't give away secrets until he wants to. But when he pulls off a tricky handstand or stops to flash one of Finch's secret Machiavellian grins, his comic timing is lit slyly from within by intelligence.

But this is far more than a star turn with dancing background. John Larroquette, in his Broadway debut, turns out to be a nimble light-comedy treasure as the company's philandering but oddly endearing boss. Newcomer Rose Hemingway, as the maritally ambitious secretary who loves Finch, has a gleaming, flexible voice. She also has an easygoing self-knowledge that goes a long way toward softening the era's doormat philosophy of womanhood.

In contrast to his obnoxious recent "Promises, Promises" revival, Ashford finds a way to honor the gender-oppressive period without making the secretaries pathetic. He stages "A Secretary Is Not a Toy" and the secretaries' suburban fairy tale, "Cinderella, Darling," as if everyone has a stake in the humor.

Derek McLane's set is a multilevel honeycomb of corporate machinations, while Catherine Zuber's costumes enjoy a "Mad Men" eroticism. Ashford's choreography is uneven, with both irrationally busy numbers and inspired ones. He saves the best for Radcliffe, whose audience appears to embrace him like proud parents, clucking over how well he grew up. And that he has.