Dirty Dancing

I was salivating as I approached the Aldwych Theatre ñ not with teenage memories of Patrick Swayze ñ but in the way that an animal does when it's going in for the kill. With a couple of honourable exceptions, big budget films adapted for stage tend to prove gawdy meretricious affairs, especially when there's a guaranteed mist of nostalgia obscuring all but the most glaring faults.

The cynicism held for all of ten minutes as I gleefully noted the resolutely untheatrical digitally animated backdrop, the clumsy split-level design, and the seemingly uninspired parroting of the movie script. But something was wrong ñ there were repeated flashes of visual wit in James Powell's production, the music was becoming more and more infectious, and the dancing was starting to bring out my inner mambo-er.

By the interval it was clear why this show has taken record advance bookings. The story of Baby Houseman's conversion from my-heart-belongs-to-daddy schoolgirl into sexy adolescent is the archetypal Ugly Ducking story, and there's no doubt it still has wings. That's helped in no small respect by the fact that the object of her affections, dancing teacher Johnny Castle, is played by Josef Brown who has an electric dancing talent and a sex appeal to match. In the '60s holiday camp hell where Baby goes with her parents and Barbie-doll vain sister, it's easy to see how he might make a teen girl feel as if she's been swept off to heaven.

As Baby, Georgina Rich has an attractive, well-earthed presence ñ and with the two leads working so well, all else that's needed is a fully functioning sound system and some great dance sequences. That the two are there in abundance may explain why this particular cynic was whooping and cheering with everyone else by the end.