When Clark Kent takes off his glasses, he’s Superman.

When Pat McRoberts puts on his glasses, he’s Buddy Holly, a forever-young rock ‘n’ roll icon brought back to life on the stage of the Westchester Broadway Theatre in Elmsford.

He’s not able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but in “Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story,” McRoberts can lift anyone’s midwinter blues with a performance that rivals Indian Point in the megawatt department. He’s simply dazzling.

Buddy Holly was born Charles “Buddy” Hardin Holley in Lubbock, Texas, in 1936. His first contract, with Decca Records, misspelled his name as “Holly,” and he kept it that way. What he didn’t keep was the traditional country sound Decca wanted from him, and he and his band, The Crickets, soon lost their contract.

A friend introduced Holly to Norman Petty, who had a recording studio in tiny Clovis, N.M., and the sound that made Holly a household name was shared with the world.

As even the most casual rock ‘n’ roll fan will know, Holly died in a plane crash after a concert in Clear Lake, Iowa, on Feb. 3, 1959. That crash also killed Ritchie Valens (“La Bamba”) and J.P. Richardson, known as The Big Bopper, who recorded the song “Chantilly Lace.”

(New Rochelle’s Don McLean later called the crash “the day the music died” in his song “American Pie.”)

What some may not know is that Holly’s entire career lasted just 18 months and that he was only 22 when he died. He left behind legions of fans – including four boys from Liverpool who went on to become The Beatles, named in a tribute to The Crickets.

Holly also left behind a young, pregnant wife, Maria Elena, who subsequently miscarried.

That’s the cloud that hangs over “Buddy.” We know the story. We know it all ends with a plane crash in a snowy Iowa field.

But that cloud’s silver lining is the music, 2 1/2 hours of toe-tapping tunes that have the dinner-theater audience nodding their heads, clapping along and, at the slightest urging by McRoberts at the curtain call, dancing in the aisles. The first and second act each end with extended concerts.

Director Victoria Bussert has a rock-solid cast of musician-actors at her disposal and only brings the orchestra into the mix late in the show. For the bulk of the evening, it’s Buddy Holly and The Crickets, playing and singing.

Clearly, this is McRoberts’ show and he nails everything from Holly’s trademark hiccup singing style to the toothy grin and quirky head movements. He runs and slides across the stage on his knees, plays while he’s on his back on the stage. He’s an object in perpetual motion.

But it’s not just a musical performance: There’s a man behind the music and McRoberts fleshes him out.

The Crickets – Eric Scott Anthony as Joe B. Mauldin on bass and John Rochette as Jerry Allison on drums – are accomplished musicians and are convincing as Holly’s friends who eventually split with the talented singer over creative differences. Before they split, their joy in the recording studio scenes is infectious.

Angela C. Howell, who makes a comical turn as Petty’s wife, Vi, also serves as the show’s musical director. As Vi, she plays the piano – in pink slippers, a terry cloth robe and curlers in her hair on one number – and the celesta (a small keyboard instrument that produces a bell-like sound) on the song “Everyday.”

The first scene in Norm Petty’s Recording Studio is a revelation, as we glimpse Holly’s creative process – a playful let’s-try-this approach that produces such hits as “Peggy Sue” and “Everyday” before our eyes. The purity of the “Everyday” recording is indelible. We feel we’re present at the creation. That song will never sound the same.

The authenticity of the moment at WBT is slightly diminished by the prop department’s failure to find an actual reel-to-reel machine that works. Instead, we see two gray boxes with spools, but no action. Come on!

At the press preview, technical glitches kept the show from perfection, including a regrettable, sustained bit of ear-splitting feedback at the start and a phone that continued to ring after the receiver was lifted. These can be easily ironed out.

Steven Loftus’ set is an oversized jukebox – remember jukeboxes? – with huge, arching tubes of white fabric that take on different colors under lighting designer Andrew Gmoser’s powers.

Under the colorful arch is an upper playing area where DJs “spin” the records and some scenes are played. Flanking the stage are large, colorful 45-rpm records – remember 45s? – to help set the scene. Two of these rotate and serve as secondary playing areas.

One small note: 45s had a large black hole in the center – perfect for jukeboxes, but requiring a plastic disc to adapt to an LP player. The ones on Loftus’ set have a small white LP-like hole in the center – without the adapter – and look more like 78s.

Overall, though, the creative departments – lights, set, sound and costumes – help to evoke another time, when a skinny kid from Lubbock became a star playing a new kind of music.

Three of the evening’s most aerobic performances are delivered by Tamara Corbin, Angela Karol Grovey and Becca Lopez as the red-sequined backup singers at Holly’s final concert. He plays for a solid 25 minutes and they shake everything they have – in unison – for that entire time. It’s quite a workout, performed with flair and apparent ease.

In a simple but effective bit of staging, director Bussert starts the show with the band far upstage and, throughout the evening, Buddy’s mike stand gets closer and closer to the audience. As we get closer to him, he gets closer to us.

And then he is gone.

There’s plenty of music in “Buddy,” 27 songs from that prolific but too brief period. Among them: “Ready Teddy,” “That’ll Be the Day,” “Not Fade Away” and “Oh Boy,” songs that capture the rawness and purity that Holly embodied.

Act 1 ends with a memorable Apollo Theatre appearance, when the lily white Holly and The Crickets showed up in Harlem, where club managers had assumed their group was black. (Kudos to Derrick Cobey and Angela Karol Grovey for their work as the Apollo Main Man and Female Performer, two high-octane performances.)

The second act begins with several slow book scenes that cover a lot of ground but tend to drag.

Then comes the moment we’ve been waiting for: The final half-hour recreates that Clear Lake concert, including a hip-swiveling performance by Miguel A. Romero as Valens and a comic turn by Ryan G. Dunkin as the novelty-song singer The Big Bopper, gold-plated telephone at the ready.

The action builds to a fever pitch, giving us a glimpse into what it must have been like in the Surf Ballroom that snowy night.

A final tableau – with the ill-fated singers frozen in a spotlight after a ripping, good concert – drives home what was lost when that plane went down.

“Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story,” written by Alan Janes and Rob Bettinson, premiered in London’s West End in 1989 with Paul Hipp as Buddy and ran for 13 years. Hipp came to Broadway with the show in 1990 and was a 1991 Tony nominee for his performance, in a production that ran for 225 performances. A London revival, which opened last August, is still running.

WBT audiences won’t have that long. “Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story” runs through April 19.

Seeing “Buddy” will leave you wanting more and might send you to iTunes or Amazon.com to get the original works. That is a credit to the work now onstage at Westchester Broadway Theatre.

Oh boy!

Photo by John Vecchiolla: Miguel Romero (Ritchie Valens), Pat McRoberts (Buddy Holly) and Ryan Dunkin (The Big Bopper) on stage at Westchester Broadway Theatre in Elmsford.

‘Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story’

Where: Westchester Broadway Theatre, 1 Broadway Plaza, Elmsford.
When: Through April 19. Wednesday and Thursday matinees: lunch 11:30 a.m., show 1 p.m.; Thursday through Saturday evenings: dinner at 6, show at 8; Sunday matinee: lunch at noon, show at 1:30 p.m.; Sunday evening: dinner at 5, show at 7.
Tickets: $60 to $73, plus tax, depending on the performance.
Call: 914-592-2222.
Web: www.broadwaytheatre.com.