Franco Milazzo

The original Leeds cast do what they can with stereotypical material that barely contains anything that draws us in. Performances are committed and sincere, but they are sunk by underwritten characters who exist mainly to announce their emotional states. At separate points, James and Melissa solemnly inform the other that they “don’t even recognise who you are anymore”. This is less subtext and more an instruction manual. Horror relies on empathy, and it’s hard to care about people when the script seems barely acquainted with them itself.

Ultimately, it is Joseph’s luminous script that makes the greatest difference. Pinging us between soul-searching monologues and macho bro talk, he cleverly skips us from scene to scene, each featuring no more than two or three characters engaged in intense dialogue. There’s a refined balance of comedy with dramatic depth that few plays this year have showed with this confidence. His story perhaps zigs then zags a bit too much to make whatever points Joseph had in mind stick but his ambition can’t be faulted. It'll make you laugh, then it'll make you feel bad for laughing. Which, let's be honest, is the purest form of fun there is.

What could easily have come off the rails is majestically held together by Matt DiCarlo’s razor-sharp direction. Lines snap with a military precision, the action sequences have a real zip about them and the most tender scenes draw genuine emotion. The finale to act one is a series of farcical decisions and mistakes which somehow coalesce into a masterpiece of co-ordinated chaos; to paraphrase Sir Terry Pratchett, this show’s most memorable sequences only happen because a large number of things amazingly fail to go wrong.

The circus itself is, in the main, entertaining without being in any way memorable or groundbreaking. Circus choreographers Tilde Björfors and Mattias Andersson play it far too safe given the quality of the cast and the facilities (one of the updates to the venue was adding a huge mother truss to support the rigging). Some parts feel more plastic than organic and there’s rarely a genuine wow factor. There is very little on display that really stands out from what can be seen in big tops up and down the land. When the story calls for explosive action, Björfors and Andersson cram too much in with dazzling aerialists pitching and yawing above busy ground-based colleagues. creating a confusing and overloaded panorama. On press night, the trapeze act and the teeterboard piece both ended in very noticeable mistakes; in the latter case, the team decided to repeat the last segment while the next set of acrobats awkwardly waited in the background; whether this is a sign of general nerves or backstage shenanigans is hard to tell.

Barlow doesn’t hold back in poking fun at the original film, not least its approach to romance and broad stereotyping. Overacting is the name of the game and the cast throw themselves into this with gusto. Unlike cult classics like Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Airplane! and Top Secret!, the writing is a little too beholden to the source material with only references to other Hitchcock films like North By Northwest and Psycho broadening its cultural scope.

Gabriella Slade (Six) has taken the Eighties vibe very seriously when it comes to defining the look of the characters. Many of the costumes come with fabulous shoulder pads that Krystle Carrington would have given her left kidney for, while the coloured hair, mullets and bright make-up are quintessential romo. The detailed outfits for the engines are a high point, the stylings one of the few things helping us tell them apart. Hydra is given a cool green outfit to go with his eco-credentials while the Electric crew are dressed up as camp ice pixies.

This is not a show for the cynical at heart and those who travel without a hankie may have to make do with an absorbent sleeve. Standing At Sky’s Edge is an epic musical for (and about) the ages. For those who haven’t seen it, prepare to fall in love. And, for those who have already seen it, be it in Sheffield or on the South Bank, prepare to fall in love again.

Overall, though, this is a fresh and exciting take on what is often seen as Shakespeare's most juvenile work. The comedy leavens the horror without taking away its impact: the audience still reel in the bloody final scene which sees Tamora's sons served up for dinner and four characters fatally stabbed. Having an excellent all-female cast pays major dividends in bringing Titus into the 21st century, shining its issues of toxic masculinity and the cost of vengeance through the novel lens of black comedy and burning candles.