On a cold night sizzling with anticipation, fans converted and oblivious lined up outside the Chicago Theatre. . . And there they were, atop a flight of stairs, posed like hunky action figures . . . Wow, what a bunch of gigolos. Like great gigolos, you know what they're going to do, but they do it so well and so smoothly. . . . . David from America, Urs from Switzerland, Carlos from Spain and Sebastien from France . . . the concert crowd was mostly 30- to 50-something women . . . "American Idol" creator Simon Cowell scored again when he conceived of this quartet. Like "Idol" winners who are good but not spectacular, the Divos are handsome enough to flatter the imagination ("I could be with him…"), but not so gorgeous as to intimidate. . . . This was as much peformance as explosion — . . . It was all an act, sure. Duh. . . . . These are no kings of the high C. Listen closely and you hear the extravagant vibrato, that singer's Spackle that covers many holes. Demanding vocal passages left David panting for breath . . . Yep, those classical snobs can just go somewhere and play with their Mozart action figures while Il Divo and Cowell take over the world, one keening damsel at a time. . . . . .