This is a show that will certainly tap your troubles away and leaves you beaming from the inside out. Infectious musical theatre joy of the highest calibre.
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The dancing is the star of this show but Easton, Halse and Tom Lister, solidly good as Julian Marsh, impress.
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What keeps the show alive are the dances, and Bramble as director and Randy Skinner as choreographer stage them with well-drilled exactitude.
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Indeed, while memory can be a tricky thing, I'm tempted to think of this as the best 42nd Street in my experience since the fabled Broadway original that I saw as a theatre-mad teen in 1980.
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But the garlands belong to the ensemble, dancing on the spot as if gliding on ice, wind-milling arms furiously yet gracefully. An American classic right royally revived.
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We get lengthy, drifting excerpts from this seemingly entirely logic-free piece and, despite the tapping, our spirits begin to flag.
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...the razzmatazz of the staging is so preposterous that it makes you smile, especially when it is delivered by a chorus drilled with pure precision in choreography remounted by Randy Skinner from Gower Champion's original.
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But most of all, this show socks you over the head with good old-fashioned spectacle. In an era where most homegrown musicals rely on a couple of all-purpose sets and some moody lighting, it’s dazzlingly lavish and bright.
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