“Hell’s Kitchen,” the Alicia Keys musical that has landed at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre in a blaze of rousing sound, deploys the R&B star’s glorious treasure trove of work in the service of a semi-autobiographical version of her coming-of-age story in the Manhattan neighborhood that gives the show its title.

The Hell’s Kitchen of Alicia Keys’ story, set in the 1990s, isn’t the gang-ridden Hell’s Kitchen of West Side Story, set in the 1950s. Keys grew up in Manhattan Plaza, a federally subsidized residential complex that provides affordable housing for artists. But for a teenager in rebellion from her watchful mother, the vibrant, music-filled street life comes with its share of dangers.

Ali (Maya Drake, who’s making her professional debut in this North American tour production) is a 17-year-old ready to break out of the cage her mother, Jersey (Kennedy Caughell), has placed her in. Jersey, a single mom, isn’t a tyrant. She just doesn’t want to see her daughter make the same mistakes that she did, namely get pregnant at a young age before she’s had a chance to realize her own dreams.

The book by playwright Kristoffer Diaz (“The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity”) is structured around a loving but combustible mother-daughter relationship amid the creative ferment of New York. This artistic neverland is crystallized in the apartment building that has music pouring out of every floor when Ali rides the elevator.

Maya Drake as Ali and the company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

The story isn’t the strong suit of “Hell’s Kitchen,” which is powered by Alicia Keys’ versatile catalog, which has been supplemented with original material. The hits — “You Don’t Know My Name,” “Girl on Fire,” “Fallin’,” “If I Ain’t Got You,” “Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” “No One” and “Empire State of Mind,” among them — reverberate inside the Pantages with a thrilling exuberance.

What’s most impressive, however, is the way these tracks have been arranged both musically and dramatically. Jukebox musicals are notorious for shoe-horning in beloved songs without regard for storytelling integrity. “Mamma Mia!,” which crammed in as many ABBA hits as possible, hardly even bothered to find pretext for their inclusion. The lucrative example paved the way for more than two decades of musical theater shamelessness.

The company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

“Hell’s Kitchen,” directed by Michael Greif, takes a more dignified approach, raiding Keys’ greatest hits in a way that doesn’t cause dramatic offense and better yet, adds a layer of surprise to music that is so well known.

The songs are allocated in unexpected ways. Numbers that you might think belong to Ali are divided among the company. Jersey is first in line, and Caughell makes the most of her opportunities. But sharing in the bounty are Davis (Desmond Sean Ellington), Ali’s mostly absent and chronically unreliable father; Knuck (Jonavery Worrell), Ali’s forbidden love interest; or Miss Liza Jane (Roz White), a pianist who lives in the building and becomes Ali’s formidable mentor.

There are other characters who offer luminous assistance, but these are the principals in a musical tale built around Ali’s central relationships. Keys’ origin story is more dynamic on an atmospheric than dramatic level. A mother having difficulty with her boy-crazy teenage daughter isn’t exactly breaking any ground, and Diaz avoids venturing into more turbulent territory. Ali’s divided identity, stemming in part from an all-too-present white mother and all-too-missing Black father, sets up issues that are touched on but never deeply engaged.

Desmond Sean Ellington as Davis and Kennedy Caughell as Jersey and the company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

Miss Liza Jane spots Ali’s musical gift right away and fills her with a sense of pride and responsibility in her Black heritage. But her character’s role is somewhat earnestly compartmentalized. Knuck recognizes that Ali’s fascination with him stems in part from the way she sees him, much as her mother does, as a “thug.” But their tentative affair is secondary to the complex bond between Ali and Jersey, whose troubled connection with Davis helps Ali understand why her mother is so paranoid about her romantic choices.

But these concerns fall away when the performers start singing. Drake has a beautiful voice, but her Ali is slighter than that of Maleah Joi Moon, who won a Tony for her Broadway debut performance. I didn’t mind that Davis sings “Fallin’,” as Ellington has a voice of luscious thunder. Worrell’s Knuck more than holds his own with his duets with Ali. (In fact, I was more taken by his velvety interpretation of “Like You’ll Never See Me Again” than Ali’s more straightforwardly pretty version.) White’s Miss Liza Jane takes the Pantages audience to church in her numbers. And when Caughell magnificently directs “No One” to Ali, I can’t imagine there’s a dry eye in the house.

Desmond Sean Ellington as Davis and Maya Drake as Ali in the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

This tour production isn’t crisp in all areas. The dancing isn’t always smooth, the costumes struck me as a road show idea of New York cool, and the acting didn’t do much to compensate for some of the book’s less subtle moments.

But the energy of the production is infectious. “Hell’s Kitchen,” a New York story of a wunderkind discovering her gift, helped me get over my allergy to the jukebox genre. The soaring quality of the orchestra and the delectable company of voices pay exhilarating homage to a singular artist, who seems right at home at the Pantages.

Starring: Marshall Williams, Richard Harmon and Alex Essoe
Directed by: James Kondelik
Rated: NR
Running Time: 108 minutes

Our Score: 1.5 out of 5 Stars

Survival horror is the ultimate guilty pleasure because you can amplify any life-or-death situation into the paranormal, horrific, thrilling, or cruelly dramatic extremes it finds itself in. So why doesn’t “Pitfall” come close to tickling “The Ritual,” “The Blair Witch Project,” or “Wolf Creek” vibes?

Woods and grief feel like a ritualistic trope at this point as “Pitfall” opens on Scott (Marshall Williams) and Ashley (Alex Essoe) mourning the death of their parents. For reasons that may or may not be revealed later, they join three friends on an ominous trip that quickly introduces the titular pitfall, a massive trap designed to kill prey.

The movie constantly battles convention with unpredictability. The problem is that at more than 100 minutes long, there’s plenty of time to sit around and wonder where the story is heading. If “Pitfall” moved with the frantic pace of a Tuesday afternoon soap opera on meth, maybe I’d be swept up in the chaos. Instead, I found myself waiting for reveals that felt more eye-rolling than shocking.

I really wanted to like “Pitfall” because of how invested it is in physical violence, emotional trauma, and psychological brutality. Unfortunately, the movie never convinced me it knew what to do with those ideas. By the time it arrives at its revelations and ultimate purpose, “Pitfall” feels less like a title and more like a review.

After eating a lot of fast food, some of it on roller coasters, YouTuber Allen Ferrell has been banned by Six Flags from all of its amusement parks nationwide. For life.

McDonald’s chicken nuggets were apparently an ultra-processed food item too far for the folks at Six Flags’ Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio.

“This guest has been banned from all Six Flags parks for life,” a Cedar Point spokesman explained in an email Thursday to Cleveland TV station WKYC. “Safety is a cornerstone of our business and we have zero tolerance for inappropriate and unsafe behavior.”

Zero tolerance for inappropriate behavior? Zero? Where’s the fun in that?

“Our ride safety policy strictly prohibits all loose articles on rides, including food which can become a choking hazard,” the spokesperson continued.

“I had no idea that eating a 10-piece chicken nugget on a roller coaster would be a national headline, but here we are,” Ferrell told Fox 8 News in Cleveland.

He said he gets the park’s point with the ban, even though he’s been going there since he was a kid and is a huge fan of the operation.

“I understand. And we kind of worked it out,” he told Fox 8 News. “They just don’t want other people getting hurt on the ride. But me personally, it was a really fun challenge.”

Ferrell’s shtick on social media is accepting challenges from his followers and then taping himself attempting to do what they propose. Eat a McDonald’s Big Mac inside a Burger King. Throw a plunger at a Target sign. Bowl blindfolded until he gets a strike.

“If anyone asks,” Ferrell tells one apparently bored ride operator in the video that documented this particular coaster crime, “I do not have chicken nuggets in my underwear.”

Ferrell decided to try the challenge on the park’s Millennium Force ride, a “looming giant amongst a park full of them,” a coaster that was “designed for the purpose of proving bigger is better.” A roller coaster that when it was created in 2000 “demanded an all-new category just to classify its one of a kind nature,” giving rise to the “giga-coaster.” According to Cedar Point, as all of this verbiage is, Millennium Force “shoots riders over hills, past lagoons and through tunnels, all at unthinkable speeds.”

The ride actually tops out at 93 mph, a speed often thought about on freeways in the Los Angeles area when traffic is going 8 mph. It’s quite thinkable to eat fast food in a car in L.A. But it turns out what was really unthinkable was Ferrell getting all 10 nuggets down the hatch before the Six Flags ride was over.

In the video, which had almost 800,000 views on YouTube as of Friday afternoon, he morphs from happy snacking dude to dude moaning in discomfort, struggling to shove nuggets in his mouth while unintentionally applying dipping sauce to his face via G-force.

“Oh, I failed,” Ferrell says, wiping off the face-sauce as the coaster pulls up to the platform and someone in line blurts, “Are those chicken nuggets?”

Turns out he snarfed seven of them, he confesses to the two guys in front of him in the coaster car. Ferrell said later that he was glad to be in the back row because it meant nobody behind him got sauced.

That said, watching the sweet-and-sour sauce flying in slow motion is actually quite amusing. But eating nuggets that have been in one’s underwear?

The perma-ban sounds like the least of his problems.