Jekyll and Hyde is a favourite musical for a lot of people, including myself, so it’s a brave move to take something so firmly set in the Victorian era and bring it into the twenty-first century. Half of the time, an update hits several walls, so it’s a testament to this production that not only is Wildhorn and Bricusse’s musical popular enough to warrant an update, but that Director Luke Fredericks successfully achieves it.

The musical isn’t wholly true to the novel (if you’re unaware of the storyline, a Doctor experiments upon himself to invent a drug to control the evil side of human nature, but finds himself unleashing it instead). A subplot is invented between Jekyll/Hyde and a prostitute, Lucy (played brilliantly by Madalena Alberto if you ignore the indeterminate accent). The heartfelt stories of Lucy and her love rival, Emma Carew (sung beautifully by Joanna Strand), were responsible for a few tears being shed. Updating these characters has made them seem more three-dimensional, and lends a particular grittiness to the roles.

The intimacy of their stories contrasts with the ferocity with which Tim Rogers plays Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde. Rogers’s dichotomy of character is expertly played; his Hyde in particular is darkly enigmatic and well physicalised. Jekyll and Hyde is a difficult show to direct, belief in the story depends a lot upon how the transformation of Jekyll/Hyde is portrayed, and Fredericks’s simple choices combined with Rogers’s acting were a thousand times more effective than other productions I’ve seen, which have rested on spectacle and costume. Catherine Webb’s use of torchlight and washes, and the fuzzy production of Ben Walden’s video projections, combined to create the menacing atmosphere of the gothic novel.

Updating it is surprisingly easy: Jekyll’s proposal is made to an NHS medical body and his diary is written on a Mac. The slightly stoned portrayal of Lucy also brings a true sadness to the role. The multiplicity of personas in the chorus is more relatable than the very thin divide of simply rich and poor. The staging is fast-paced, and the chorus especially precise. At times however, I think it tries too hard to be busy where there is enough intensity emanating from the excellent soloists, and the scene should focus upon them.

What makes this production of Jekyll and Hyde so hard-hitting is the use of space in the little Union Theatre. Although there were a few foibles with the set which sadly keep it from perfection, it is otherwise innovatively used: the breaking of the fourth wall and being so close you can really see into Rogers’s tormented eyes brings vivacity and reality to this production. This is complemented wonderfully by Dean Austin’s full sounding arrangement of the score, and Stewart Charlesworth’s hardy, grim set.

Charlesworth, Austin and Fredericks’s company Morphic Graffiti turns a traditional musical which has always had the potential to be something more, into just that. It’s slick and sinister: a deliciously wicked piece of theatre.

Jekyll and Hyde is playing at the Union Theatre until 16 June. For more information and tickets, see the Union Theatre website.

When it’s as cold as November in April, a vintage musical comedy filled with dazzling tunes and tap dancing is undoubtedly the best way to lift the spirits. Whether the plucky underdogs will put on their show against the odds is never in doubt and the rather rickety story is an excuse to quickstep from one glorious Rodgers and Hart song to another: the frequently-covered ‘My Funny Valentine’ and ‘The Lady is a Tramp’, the achingly lovely ‘Where or When’, and if ‘I Wish I Were in Love Again’ doesn’t make you want to dance, then there’s something wrong with you. David Ball’s inventively homespun production, with lively choreography by Lizzi Gee, is predominantly made up of recent graduates and if the material is executed with a little more exuberance than finesse, much can be forgiven in the spirit of toe-tapping fun.

There doesn’t seem to be a definitive version of Babes in Arms: the original 1937 production had a rather subversive political angle; a 1939 film of the same name gave Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney their immortal line, “Let’s put on a show in the barn!” but bizarrely rejected most of the original songs. This production uses a book reworked by George Oppenheimer in the 1950s (complete with references to 50s icons such as Marlon Brando and Brigitte Bardot) that replaces communism with a milder sense of teenage rebellion. If it isn’t quite a chance to hear the songs in their original context, it’s still a pleasure to hear them in some kind of context.

A group of apprentices-cum-slaves are desperate to get a start in the theatre industry (these days, they’d be called interns) and are exploited by the unscrupulous manager of a mouldering regional theatre. Led by aspiring composer Valentine (James Lacey, playing his own gender after his turn as Lady Angela in Patience), with whom the adorable Susie (Catriona Mackenzie) is smitten, the youngsters plan to put on a revue. This is threatened when a dreadful Southern melodrama by the egomaniac actor, writer and director Lee Calhoun (Stuart Pattenden) is extended. Calhoun’s co-star, the former child star Jennifer Owen (a sweet-voiced Carly Thoms), a nice girl dominated by her pushy stage mother (it might have been more fun if she’d been an obnoxious Dainty June-type), captures Val’s attention and sparks Susie’s jealousy. The greatest flaw in Oppenheimer’s book is the way in which Val and Jennifer’s romance fizzles out without any resolution, despite having shared the show’s loveliest love duets.

The most endearing performance comes from Mackenzie as the lovestruck Susie. Although she isn’t entirely comfortable with the high passages (the keys should have been changed to lower the melody), she displays a very winning stage personality, combining childlike mischievousness with plaintive yearning. Jenny Perry is also highly engaging as Bunny, co-owner of the theatre, put-upon assistant to the manager and perpetual maid who seizes her chance to be a leading lady, and Anna McGarahan and Ben Redfern spark off each other entertainingly as the on-off ‘I Wish I Were in Love Again’ couple, though Redfern seems slightly more mature than the other apprentices.

Reflecting the apprentices’ own mend-and-make-do style of theatrecraft on a shoestring and a wobbly stepladder, Ball makes a particularly resourceful use of props. Entering the auditorium into what looks like a scruffy backstage area (designed by Katinka Taylor) with crew members sewing, gossiping and woodworking, they build up a rhythm of sweeping, hammering and tapping before they are joined by the band, which transports the audience into an escapist world of showbusiness, where the play-within-a-play The Deep North almost makes Noises Off’s Nothing On look professional.

Babes in Arms is playing at the Union Theatre until 12 May. For more information and tickets, see the Union Theatre website.

Gilbert and Sullivan had a particular knack for choosing pertinent subjects, and exposing their absurdities with wit and style that could be interpreted as either satire or celebration of the fun that can be had. The Aesthetic movement was all the rage in the later part of the nineteenth century and influenced a wealth of glorious poetry, decorative arts and buildings (the Leighton House Museum in Holland Park is perhaps the finest monument to aestheticism). This cult of beauty, advocating beauty as a means to itself without a moral dimension, unsurprisingly spawned a host of imitators who had the mannerisms down pat but lacked the flair of Rossetti, Swinburne, Wilde et al., yet were never at a loss for young ladies willing to lap their ‘talent’ up.

Following on from Sasha Regan’s all-male productions of Iolanthe, The Pirates of Penzance and The Mikado, the less frequently performed Patience (the first Gilbert and Sullivan opera to be performed at the Savoy Theatre in 1881) opens with ‘Twenty love-sick maidens’ (well, eight) and dressed in floral-print frocks, matching pastel-coloured cardigans and plimsolls singing about their love for the poet Reginald Bunthorne. Once one’s eyes adjust to the boyish haircuts and extraneous body hair, these ‘damosels’ are neither camp nor butch; ironically, it’s the men playing men who camp it up more. The gender-bending adds another quite head-spinning layer to Gilbert’s convoluted logic about art, love and femininity that is represented by suggestion rather than exaggeration. The falsettos are pleasingly easy on the ear, with crisp diction all round and a lovely touch was having their natural voices amplify the dragoons’ choruses.

While the Ladies, Angela, Saphir, Ella etc., are desperate for Bunthorne’s attention, he is preoccupied with  “Eating the milkmaid Patience’s butter with a teaspoon”. The regiment of stomping dragoons in the neighbourhood are of no interest as a military man in a tweedy uniform is so last year. Edward Charles Bernstone flutters between her two admirers as the delightfully guileless ingénue, unaware that it is possible to love anyone who isn’t a relation, and Dominic Brewer’s Bunthorne is the embodiment of affected medievalism, reading his poems in a very actorly voice and enunciating the silent ‘k’s.

No one idol is irreplaceable: the maidens’ affections transfer to Patience’s childhood sweetheart, the wandering troubadour Archibald Grosvenor (Stiofàn O’Doherty) who has been in a “Fifteenth-century Florentine frenzy for 15 years”, clad in sheer white shirt and very tight trousers (much like Mr Darcy before his swim but more effete). O’Doherty’s exceptionally beautiful lyrical baritone voice was my vocal highlight and perfectly suited to the battle of narcissists as he and Bunthorne try to out-preen one other.

Regan ensures that every member of the very pretty cast has their own individuality: Bunthorne’s most devoted groupie of all, the man-hungry frump Lady Jane (Sean Quigley) is vindicated when hand-picked by the fabulously rich Duke of Dunstable (Matthew James Willis). James Lacey brings plenty of warmth to Lady Angela, the most prominent maiden, and Edward Simpson throws himself wholeheartedly into abandoning military precision for languid aesthetic posing as Colonel Calverley.

Kingsley Hall’s set evokes a sense of bucolic tranquillity, with swirls representing peacock feathers, and Steve Miller’s rosy lighting is beautifully accentuated by tea lights. The choreography, by Drew McOnie is witty and resourceful and I particularly enjoyed the rhythmic gymnastics. MD Richard Bates joins in the fun by wearing a chintzy dress and provides an excellent solo accompaniment.

Having once claimed that I could never be a Gilbert and Sullivan fan, I think I now have to eat my words. When their works are beautifully sung, engagingly performed, and staged with ingenuity and a bit of irreverence, there are few things more enjoyable. A stunner of a production and a splendid example of ‘Fun for fun’s sake’.

Patience plays at the Union Theatre until March 10. For more information and tickets, visit the website.

Never shy of housing resurrections of long forgotten shows and ever committed to bringing large cast numbers into the small intimate space under the arches, the Union Theatre is now home to a whore house.

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas is a peculiar musical. It was a hit movie in the 1980s, starring Dolly Parton as the whorehouse mother-figure, Miss Mona. The show hangs round a theme of women helping men out in numerous ways. The plot sets up several directions, yet does not go any further in allowing the audience to actually make any connection to the characters. Angel and Shy begin the show by making the grave decision to join Miss Mona and the girls. There is a song, but then we gain nothing more from this storyline till a few short lines of reflection at the very end of the performance. Loosely, the plot delves into a community which is aware of the establishment but keeps it quiet, until do-gooder Melvin P Thorpe and his lively television supporters preach to expose the house and get it shut down. This creates a difficult situation for the Sheriff as, having once had a fling with Miss Mona, he tries everything to keep it open until words from above put the last nail in the coffin.

This production at the Union, which has some 24 performers, has an energetic young cast who perform ambitious choreography by Richard Jones in this tight space. Credit has to be given to the ensemble of boys who really raise the bar in their routine, pushing themselves and showcasing the fast-aced tap of Dayle Hodge in a rousing number just before the interval.

Leon Craig takes on the role of Melvin P Thorpe, hellbent on ousting the whorehouse from the community. Clad in a silver and purple frilled cowboy uniform, Craig fully commits to this alternative interpretation of the role. Shrieking his lines and greeting audience members, you cannot deny that he has a boundless energy, but I feel that for this role it is all pushed a little too far.

The star is Sarah Lark, taking the role played by Dolly Parton. She steps out on to the stage to round up her “chickens”, and you cannot help but be drawn to her. With a fantastic array of costumes Lark entices the audience with a wonderfully clear vocal talent that is a treat to listen to with the trains rattling above the theatre. She also oozes maternal instinct and was one of the few to master the Texan accent while allowing every word to be clear and understood. Lark is playing a role much older than her years, but she proves that it can be interpreted at a younger age, so much so that I would suggest the wig is not required to make her look older.

Whorehouse is a bizarre show which doesn’t give any time to developing relationships with any characters but does present some rousing numbers with an attractive cast… it has something for everyone.