Oliver!

Despite the fact that Dickens's book, a grim account of child poverty, and Lionel Bart's chirpy tunes are hardly a good match, this '60s musical has proved enduringly popular with audiences. Rupert Goold and Matthew Bourne's revival has already taken £15 million at the box office, helped by the fact that Rowan Atkinson plays Fagin, and Jodie Prenger was cast as Nancy by a poll of TV viewers. Indeed, the first-night audience, hardly typical admittedly, was determined to cheer all the way in a throwback to the days when stars were given a round of applause for just coming on stage.

That clapping doesn't help a production that already feels like a series of variety turns. Atkinson is often very funny in a Mr Bean-ish sort of way as he throws a boy's teddy bear into the fire or coquettishly wears the tiara that lurks in his stash. But in trying to avoid the twin perils of anti-Semitism or paedophilia, he fails to suggest that Fagin is anything more than a pantomime villain. Prenger also struggles to illustrate how Nancy is torn between her masochistic love for Bill Sykes and her desire to do the right thing.

At least Anthony Ward's sets are a reminder that however bad things are financially today there's still further down to go. They recreate the dark, dank alleyways of Victorian London, while the life on the street for once manages to avoid looking as if it's inspired by a tin of Quality Street. Although the early scenes are ruined by some grotesque over-acting, Julian Bleach is one of the few to set the right tone as the cadaverous undertaker, Mr Sowerberry.

In trying to avoid sentimentality, Goold - who may possibly have over-reached himself recently - has lost any emotional engagement with Dickens's story. The result is that although I probably wouldn't want to see Oliver at the end of a rope, it's very hard to care whether he's rescued or not.