Disney’s Aladdin, arriving in the West End two years after its Broadway debut, is a strangely old-fashioned confection, with a couple of big songs (courtesy of Alan Menken, including the Oscar-winning A Whole New World) and production numbers of such over-the-top razzle-dazzle that you expect a kitchen sink to emerge from the wings at any second.
What makes Casey Nicholaw’s production hard to resist is its sheer energy and its knowing tone. This is a show that acknowledges its own silliness and then just goes on to be a bit more outrageous. Bob Crowley’s wonderful designs – all sweeping vistas and brilliant colours – make the scene look like a road movie on acid. Jim Steinmeyer’s illusions allow a magic carpet to fly out of a starlight sky.
With so much to look at, the performances get flattened, but Trevor Dion Nicholas’s Genie has the charisma and the crackle to make his personality shine to the back of the auditorium, even when he is competing with a secret cave that looks as if it has been lined with gold Lurex, and so many sequins that it is sometimes hard to see. Dean John-Wilson plays Aladdin as an amiable jack the lad; former Sugababe Jade Ewen gives Jasmine the requisite feminist edge, even while wearing a chiffon ensemble that shows off her midriff. It’s that kind of show.
• At the Prince Edward theatre, London W1, until 11 February 2017
