It has been lamented in certain circles that they don’t make Broadway musical stars the way they used to. We’ll not see the likes of Ethel Merman again. Or Mary Martin or John Raitt. Or, for that matter, Patti LuPone or Mandy Patinkin.

C’mon everybody, let’s give a big, sad sigh.
Oh, let’s not. While the manufacture of matinee idols and worship-ready divas, not to mention the sturdy vehicles they rode to fame, may be in decline, the theater has not gone out of the star-making business entirely. If you stroll down to the Richard Rodgers Theater, where the spirited musical “In the Heights” opened on Sunday night, you’ll discover a singular new sensation, Lin-Manuel Miranda, commanding the spotlight as if he were born in the wings.
As you watch Mr. Miranda bound jubilantly across the stage, tossing out the rhymed verse currently known as rap like fistfuls of flowers, you might find yourself imagining that this young man is music personified — a sprightly new Harold Hill from the barrio, where this sweet if sentimental musical is set.

Mr. Miranda, as the owner of a corner bodega who dispenses good cheer along with café con leche by the gallon, is not just the brightly glowing star of “In the Heights.” He also wrote all the ebullient songs for this panoramic portrait of a New York neighborhood — Washington Heights — filled with Spanish-speaking dreamers of American dreams, nervously eyeing their futures from a city block on the cusp of change.

First seen Off Broadway last year, “In the Heights” moves uptown with its considerable assets confidently in place: a tuneful score enlivened by the dancing rhythms of salsa and Latin pop, sounds that are an ear-tickling novelty on Broadway; zesty choreography by Andy Blankenbuehler that seems to put invisible wings on the young cast’s neon-colored sneakers; and a stage amply stocked with appealing actors who season their performances with generous doses of sugar and spice.

Its fundamental deficiencies are also along for the ride, unfortunately. Conceived by Mr. Miranda, with a book by Quiara Alegría Hudes, “In the Heights” consists of a series of vignettes that form a vivid but somewhat airbrushed mural of urban life. Directed by Thomas Kail, it is basically a salsa-flavored soap opera, and if there is an equivalent of schmaltz in Spanish, this musical is happily swimming in it.

Will Usnavi (Mr. Miranda) and his abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz) — his beloved grandmother in spirit if not in fact — achieve their goal of returning to the Dominican Republic? Will Nina (Mandy Gonzalez), the plucky neighborhood girl who made good, find the courage, or the money, to return to Stanford University after a shaky freshman year?

Will her adoring parents, Kevin (Carlos Gomez) and Camila (Priscilla Lopez), take the momentous step of selling their gypsy cab company so Nina can realize her goal? Can they come to accept Benny (Christopher Jackson), the upstanding but un-Latino young man who works for them, as their only daughter’s suitor?
I almost forgot the biggest nail-biter: Who is in possession of the winning lottery ticket Usnavi discovers he has sold?
Although you may lament the efficient but mechanical way these story lines are developed and resolved, staying tuned will be a pleasure if you have any affection for the bubbly or sultry sounds of Latin music.

Under the enthusiastic guidance of the music director, Alex Lacamoire, the orchestra — band is really a better word — plays with a sense of excitement almost never heard emanating from a Broadway pit. (The standard amplification is less flattening to this music than to traditional scores.) Bright, piping fanfares from the trumpets punctuate the dance numbers; the merry tinkle of a steel drum laughs along with the jokes. The players below seem to be having as much fun as the performers onstage.

That is saying plenty, for when this musical erupts in one of its expressions of collective joy, the energy it gives off could light up the George Washington Bridge for a year or two. The title song, for instance, is among the most galvanizing opening numbers in recent Broadway memory, as Usnavi gives the audience a guided tour, in briskly flowing rap, of the troubles that nip at the heels and the hopes that feed the imaginations of the neighborhood’s inhabitants. (The street is designed with impressive attention to the minutiae of urban decay by Anna Louizos.)

In addition to the aforementioned characters, there is Usnavi’s cocky 16-year-old cousin Sonny (the impishly funny Robin De Jesús), eager to give Usnavi tips on how to woo the girl he’s got a secret crush on. She is the ambitious Vanessa (Karen Olivo, all legs and voice), whose ardent wish is to move out of the barrio; unfortunately she’s got a mother draining her resources, and a serious credit problem. The vivacious Daniela (Andréa Burns, choicely tart), who owns the beauty salon where Vanessa works, is on the move whether she likes it or not. Priced out of the ’hood, she’s packing up her straighteners and moving to the Bronx.
Mr. Miranda’s most distinctive songs are the snazzier ones. The ballads can sound generic, and they are too often sung with throbbing ardor by someone standing in a spotlight, eyes aglow with hope or resolution. But even the musically bland selections are given a fresh gloss by the specific details of experience embedded in Mr. Miranda’s lyrics. When Nina and Benny sing a tender duet establishing their mutual feeling, she reminisces about the days “when the world was just a subway map, and the 1/9 train climbed a dotted line to my place.” Benny, his voice all honey and love, sings back, “There’s no 9 train now.”

As a performer, Mr. Miranda is anything but generic. Slight of build, with a wispy goatee, he does not fit any leading-man molds. But he is so naturally and vibrantly alive onstage that he brings an animating touch of urgency to even the more clichéd or predictable turns of the plot. He may be no real balladeer — he doesn’t sing much at all — but Usnavi’s long streams of rap riding a pulsating rhythm are the music that makes the whole neighborhood dance.

You could easily be cynical about the show’s heartfelt belief in the possibility of a little love and a big lottery win making all things right. But then Mr. Miranda bounces back onstage, throwing down rhymes and throwing his arms open wide as if to embrace the whole mezzanine. He seems to embody music’s ability to make the trite seem true again. And after all, this scrappy little musical about chasing your dreams and finding your true home is Mr. Miranda’s own dream come true. He couldn’t look more at home.

IN THE HEIGHTS
Conceived by Lin-Manuel Miranda; book by Quiara Alegría Hudes; music and lyrics by Mr. Miranda; directed by Thomas Kail; choreographed by Andy Blankenbuehler; music director, Alex Lacamoire; sets by Anna Louizos; costumes by Paul Tazewell; lighting by Howell Binkley; sound by Acme Sound Partners; company manager, Brig Berney; production stage manager, J. Philip Bassett . Presented by Kevin McCollum, Jeffrey Seller, Jill Furman, Sander Jacobs, Goodman/Grossman, Peter Fine and Everett/Skipper. At the Richard Rodgers Theater, 226 West 46th Street; 212-307-4100.. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes.
WITH: Andréa Burns (Daniela), Janet Dacal (Carla), Robin de Jesús (Sonny), Carlos Gomez (Kevin), Mandy Gonzalez (Nina), Christopher Jackson (Benny), Priscilla Lopez (Camila), Olga Merediz (Abuela Claudia), Lin-Manuel Miranda (Usnavi), Karen Olivo (Vanessa) and Seth Stewart (Graffiti Pete).