At times there seem to be as many throwaway priapic gags here as in a seasonal production of Dick Whittington, such as when a group of sailors, encountering sun-bathing chorus girls on deck, collectively discover their bell-bottoms belling nearer the top. Both the presence of such moments and their fleeting nature are characteristic of Daniel Evans’ revival of this Cole Porter musical. On a crowded ocean liner with everyone in love with everyone else, Evans and choreographer Alistair David succeed in acknowledging the complexity of matters whilst maintaining a delicacy and apparent casualness which allow things to skip along. Indeed, it is when they consciously go for a chain of show-stopping routines in the second act that one can perversely feel a certain flagging… oh, another instance of everyone in sight belting out exuberantly?

This revised version of the show (with book rewritten by Jon Weidman and Timothy Crouse, son of original co-writer Russel Crouse) drafts in additional Porter numbers such as “Friendship” and “It’s De-Lovely” to augment a score which already includes the likes of “You’re The Top”, opening routine “I Get A Kick Out Of You” and of course the title song, which climaxes the first act.

The plot may centre around young Billy Crocker (the redoubtable Matt Rawle), stowing away on a transatlantic voyage to pursue his beloved Hope Harcourt, but much of the heavy lifting in performance terms is done by showgirl Reno Sweeney. Debbie Kurup’s vocal coloratura may be on the free-roaming side, but her energy is limitless in both musical and physical departments. And when Billy takes refuge with fugitive gangster Moonface Martin (Public Enemy #13), Hugh Sachs trips through his succession of strongarm schemes with the grace of a much lighter man, handling things – if you will forgive the allusion to another musical – nicely-nicely. Even Stephen Matthews’ silly-ass English lord has his moments, or more precisely his number, “The Gypsy In Me”.

Evans, of course, has a distinguished record both as a performer in and latterly as a director of musicals, and once more he has arranged his calendar at Sheffield’s to end on a toe-(and-everything-else-)tapping high.
     
Written for the Financial Times.