Billy Crystal's paean to his jazz-centric Pop

Billy Crystal's

700 Sundays

has a lot in common with the other shows in its solo autobiographical genre. Along with its spiritual cousins - Chazz Palminteri's

A Bronx Tale

; Jake Ehrenreich's

A Jew Grows in Brooklyn

; and Joan Rivers'

A Work in Progress by a Life in Progress

, among others - it takes New York natives waxing nostalgic about their insular neighborhoods of the 1950s and '60s, their ethnic relatives, and the music of the day, and shows how everything combined to make them into the performers you see before you today.

The difference in Crystal's 2005 Tony-winning Long Island tale, even though he covers all the familiar territory, is his father, Jack, a creative soul who made an indelible mark on American jazz and on the son who idolized him. Jack did duty as proprietor of the Commodore Music Shop, the world's first indie jazz label, during the day, and as a nightclub emcee at night. In between, he introduced his boy to nearly every big name in jazz.

Homemade videos attest to little Billy's hunger for the spotlight. While it's illuminating to watch him onstage at 5 doing a one-legged tap dance or mugging for the camera with an already remarkable presence, the stories he tells about a childhood filled with jazz and Jews ground his monologue in a way that sets it apart from its peers.

Sure, Billy can recall the first movie he ever saw in a movie house (Shane) and how he first got an inkling that maybe he could do that someday. He saw that movie from the comfort of Billie Holiday's lap. He also remembers his first baseball game, which planted a seed that ultimately culminated in Billy's one-day contract last year with the Yankees. He watched his first Yankees game from Louis Armstrong's seats.

The production is a love letter to Crystal's parents, with the assistance of more big names. Staged in front of a replicated facade of Billy's childhood home (designed by David F. Weiner), the show was written by Crystal with former Saturday Night Live writer Alan Zwiebel and directed by Broadway heavy-hitter Des MacAnuff.

700 Sundays' first act breezes by, maintaining an elegant balance between hilarity and gravity (or, as elegant as can be, with a theme of recurring grandpa fart jokes). The second act loses some of that balance as we say goodbye to Crystal's mother and father, dragging out an otherwise enchanting evening. Jack Crystal died suddenly at 53 of a heart attack, leaving behind three boys, including 15-year-old Billy, the youngest. Thus ended Billy's count of blissful Sundays with his dad, 700 in total. His mother, Helen, died years later of a stroke, excruciatingly - too excruciatingly - recounted here. Ironically, 700 Sundays is, indeed, at its best when it follows the conventions of its peers and remembers the good times.

Through Oct. 11 at the Merriam Theater, 250 S. Broad St.

Tickets: $32.50-$178. 800-982-2787 or www.kimmelcenter.org/broadway.EndText