It’s perhaps hard to imagine, but the film Footloose spawned more top ten hits than any Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. While old Lord LW was ratcheting up the West End successes in the 1980s, the best and most fun musicals were actually happening on the screen - and the three F’s - Fame, Flashdance and Footloose bring a warm glow of nostalgia to anyone over the age of thirty.

Fame has already had the screen-to-stage makeover, and now it’s the turn of Footloose. For anyone not alive in 1984, it’s the (true, apparently) story of a puritanical town that banned dancing and in the process forgot how to live and love. A handsome young renegade, who by his own confession ‘can’t stand still’, moves into the neighbourhood and decides to try and win over the minister who made the law. You can probably guess the outcome, and yes it’s cornier than a Kelloggs factory, but this is the world of musicals and that’s what we love them for.

Tonight’s performance started off a little tentatively but grew steadily and really hit its stride with the camp classic ‘Holding Out For A Hero.’ Most of these big numbers don’t aid the plot much, but they’re a great excuse for pulling out all the stops and staggering us with high kicks, synchronised swoops and splits. There were many things wrong with the ‘80s - unemployment, the Cold War, Phil Collins - but we’re inclined to think on the evidence of the other big set-piece, ‘Let’s hear it for the boy’, that all that mattered twenty years ago was whether or not you could do a moonwalk and not look like an idiot.

And the cast do a good job of suspending our disbelief. There is some spectacularly choreographed teamwork, and all the supporting roles are affectionately played. Taylor James is great as the lead man’s bashful sidekick, and Cassidy Janson tackles the Bonnie Tyler tune and masters it. Rachael Wooding proves a smart and sassy heroine, and Chris Jarvis, as the new kid on the block with ants in his pants, is a whirling dervish of testosterone and ballet moves.

No ‘80s musical is complete without twee ballads though, and the Reverend and his wife have their fair share of ‘we’re oldies and thus don’t get any grooves’ numbers, but if you want 100% leg-shaking, go and see Michael Flatley. This, on the other hand, is far less serious and in some ways far more innocent. Put on your Sunday shoes and shuffle your way down.

Andrew Blades, 6.10.04