Adam Bloodworth

Technological inventiveness has gripped the headlines, but Paddington the Musical at its core is actually a fairly analogue musical experience, a fairly conventional piece of musical theatre that is sustainably quality without relying on particularly viral moments, gimmicks or tricks, instead Luke Sheppard’s overall show is a wholesome homage. Just nice songs, a decent ensemble and sharp, decently funny writing. What more could you want?

At points, the Burlesque musical feels like a massive Magic Mike production where shimmering torsos are the main characters, but away from the sensation, there is depth... Don’t spend too much time worrying about [the plot]: this is the messy, chaotic world of burlesque and what matters is the vocals are in order.

Director and choreographer Matthew Bourne has surely opened the musical of the year with his astounding dance sequences. It’s especially the ensemble numbers that are sheer staggering feats of imagination, offering insane levels of detail to bring Victorian London back to life. You forget that there’s a banger literally every five minutes in Lionel Bart’s original score, and Bourne has crafted frenzied, stage-filling brilliance for Food Glorious Food, Oom-Pah-Pah and You’ve Got To Pick A Pocket or Two, somehow finding new life in sequences already famed for their energy.

It isn’t just Wohl’s script that feels anodyne: the timing for tense arguments is off, meaning language sometimes crescendos unnaturally, making disagreements between the pair feel forced. There are also issues with the structure: when Lily Collins’ Irene runs for the door halfway through the show, Manuel begs her not to leave, but Irene is so irritating that you don’t believe him. When the script does finally start to heat up like a Barcelona morning, the twist is too gentle to rouse more than a cursory interest.

It all feels delightfully handmade and fringey. The 39 Steps is an homage to the roots of theatre: these skits could have been performed 100 years ago. That they still work today is testament to the power of clowning and physical theatre, without massive technological bells and whistles, to amuse and delight.

It’s best when it bolts along and veers away from sentimentality, and Staunton gets this: she always has a glint in her eye that shows she’s in on the joke. Oh, and she can sing! She belts the titular track in act two in a way that makes you feel perplexed as to why she hasn’t done much more of this before. She’s always seemed a kind woman in press interviews and her warm nature is the perfect match for the soft empath Dolly. Barely off stage for over two hours, Staunton is after as much fun as the audience, and always smiling in our direction in a way that is saying “this is ridiculous, isn’t it?” without actually saying it. (Her husband, the actor Jim Carter, was in tears in the stalls watching on opening night.)

Matthew Warchus’ direction feels melodramatic, plunging into darkness at scene changes in a way that kills the drama. In these moments, he has characters spitting lines at one another as if they’re on EastEnders. The police get a good old wringing, but Zachary Hart’s bent cop Mellor is an infuriatingly cartoonish villain, his lines feeling cringe-inducingly on-the-nose. He’s even less believable than Monica’s relationship with Alec.