Between remakes of The Stepford Wives, and sitcoms ranging from "Desperate Housewives" to "Weeds," it’s easy to think the catty, sterile, back-stabbing nature of suburbia has been played out recently as a topic for satire. It turns out that all you need is some super show tunes and some women who can fly to keep the genre fresh.

The Witches of Eastwick, making its U.S. premiere at Signature Theater, after a successful run in London years ago, is that rare gem of a new Broadway musical without any of the typical handicaps. The show lacks cheesy lyrics and forgettable melodies, and doesn't need to rely on the crutch of ready-made songs or Disney characters, either. Eric Schaeffer has smoothly adapted his British version to the U.S stage, and the result is one of the most polished, entertaining productions the area has seen this season.

For those unfamiliar with the 80s film, starring Jack Nicholson, Cher, Susan Sarandon and Michele Pfeiffer, Witches features three women –- the brash sculptress Alexandra (Emily Skinner), the repressed cellist Jane (Christiane Noll) and the stuttering journalist Sukie (Jacquelyn Piro Donovan). They’re the only ones who have managed to resist the trappings of suburban life in Eastwick, but as a result are bored out of their minds. Almost as if summoned, a sensual stranger Darryl Van Horne (Marc Kudisch). They become a foursome (yes, sexually), and he begins teaching them other things –- namely, magic. Naturally, things begin to get sinister.

Witches was defying gravity before that other witchy musical, Wicked, ever showed up on the scene, and these ladies manage to fly not only up into the air, but into the audience as well (the trick is very impressive, though it can be hard to suspend disbelief with the system of pulleys in full view). Flying aside, Witches is a continuously pleasurable assault on the senses. Its costumes are gorgeous, from brothel-worthy lingerie to adorably coordinated tennis outfits. A breathtaking moon with smoky clouds provides a fetching backdrop, and a suspended white picket fence pulls off a neat trick late in the show.

It’s hard to imagine this show working quite as well as it does without a formidable assembly of leads, and this group certainly is that. Skinner’s plainspoken and brassy as Alexandra, her comic timing impeccable. Noll’s the surprising sexpot of the group, becoming bravely unhinged as Van Horne makes cello playing into an orgasmic exercise. Donovan rounds out the trio with self-deprecating humor and boundless energy. And Kudisch makes for the perfect devil: lithe, slinky, and positively oozing salacious charm.

Nearly every song's a winner in this bunch: the crazily impassioned "Make Him Mine," the jazzy and catchy "Darryl Van Horne," and "Words, Words, Words," which deserves its place in the great pantheon of Broadway patter songs; Donovan delivers it Micro Machine-style, breathless speed and personality to match. Karma Camp's choreography is continuously refreshing, full of spark and humor (ass-slapping, for example, is used to hilarious effect). From start to finish, Witches is thoroughly enchanting.

The Witches of Eastwick runs through July 15 at Signature Theater. Tickets are available online.