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The Barbara B. Mann’s roadshow production of “The Wedding Singer” manages to cram references to dozens of 1980s touchstones into its two-plus hours — Imelda Marcos, Clara Peller, Ronald Reagan, Mr. T, Richard Simmons, New Coke, big hair, bad fashion and ginormous cell phones. Yet it still does a criminal disservice to the music of the decade.

The stage version of “The Wedding Singer” is based on the 1998 Adam Sandler/Drew Barrymore film of the same name, with music by Matthew Sklar and lyrics by Chad Beguelin. The book was co-written by Chad Beguelin and Tim Herlihy, a frequent Sandler collaborator who also penned the original film. The Broadway version ran for just 284 performances in 2006.

Aside from a few details, the storyline remains virtually unchanged from the film. Wedding singer gets dumped at the altar; meets unavailable girl engaged to another guy; falls in love anyway; they have problems; they solve problems; he sings for her; the end.

Thin plot aside, “The Wedding Singer” faces an insurmountable hurdle in trying to sell 1985 nostalgia while using material written two decades later. This isn’t a jukebox musical — no vintage tunes here, just classic song titles dropped into the dialogue.

Constant jokes about cell phones and other dated pop culture references grow old fast as the production increasingly relies on jokes and sight gags instead of solid, scripted humor. We know it is the ‘80s. Move on, please. The only thing the incessant name-checks do is create a longing for the songs and artists they’re yammering on about.

Lacking both the star power of Sandler and Barrymore and the authentic ‘80s music that peppered the celluloid version, the stage edition comes across as a pale attempt to recapture the magic of the “Me” decade. The noise, dance and garish costumes all seem to be efforts to distract from the fact that like the ‘80s the show doesn’t have much to say, aside from “Never surrender.”

The cast does the best they can with what they’re given, but the error isn’t in the execution. The concept just doesn’t work: The show is decently entertaining and a pleasant enough way to spend an evening but its just not going to take you back to the decade of “Dallas,” “Dynasty” and Ronald Reagan.

David Chase’s frenetic choreography is the glue that holds the show together over the two hours. The cast is constantly in motion, whipping through vigorous dance routines reminiscent of “Thriller,” “Flashdance” and “Material Girl.” It’s like watching Cirque du Soleil interpret the best of the ‘80s at times, yet not quite interesting enough to distract from the production’s essential shortcomings.

Co-leads Merritt David Janes (Robbie) and Erin Elizabeth Coors (Julia) are bland but serviceable as the would-be lovers, although to be fair, the same could be said of the entire production. Their best moments come during the “Come Out of the Dumpster” scene, when the stars align for a few minutes of chemistry and honest emotion.

The second bananas get the quirky personalities and the subsequent chances to shine. Most take advantage of the opportunity. Andrea Andert (Linda) and Sarah Peak (Holly) delivered during their solos, while Justin Jutras (Sammy) was a constant ham as a would-be rocker with a mullet straight out of the bad hairdo hall of fame. John Jacob Lee (George) nearly stole the show with his constant antics and keytar skills, a fitting tribute to a character that is a pointed nod to Boy George.

For a decade famously known for suspect fashion choices, the costumes were far closer to trashtastic than anything resembling retro-glam, although I suspect a lot of work went into making them look a Salvation Army find any self-respecting drag queen would squeal over. Setting the mood is one thing but it must be possible to do it without making it look like every costume ought to be taken behind the woodshed and put out of its misery.

“The Wedding Singer” offer a reasonably entertaining evening, but don’t expect anything from Phil Collins or Madonna to carry the story along. The energetic cast is in constant motion, showcasing some top-notch choreography that recalls the best dance moves of the exuberant ‘80s. Fans of the decade should find something to like, especially in the constant pop culture references and supporting roles.

My fave tune from 1985? John Parr’s “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion).” Tell me yours at csilk@naplesnews.com.