Dewey Finn, the protagonist of School Of Rock, believes firmly that the spirit of rock’n’roll is embodied in sticking it to The Man. Dewey is, of course, such a no-hoper that his compulsion to middle-youth rebellion is always a little ridiculous, even before he impersonates a teacher and begins crafting a rock combo out of his prep school class of ten-year-olds. But how much more so when the stage musical of the beloved 2003 film is written not just by The Man, but by two of The Lords: composer Andrew Lloyd Webber and scriptwriter Julian Fellowes both sit with the ruling Conservative party in Britain’s upper parliamentary chamber. All rebellion is thus assimilated, and what had at least been a rambunctious cartoon is now a posturing travesty.

Lloyd Webber so wants to show that he has grit. His score here fails almost entirely. I spotted one archetypal rock chord sequence in the entire show (and as almost certainly the only reviewer of this West End opening to own a double-necked electric guitar, I know whereof I speak); there was nearly a second, but even when quoting musically from “Walk On The Wild Side” he couldn’t resist gussying it up a bit. The standout number is the title song, which unfortunately is one of three that Lloyd Webber and lyricist Glenn Slater didn’t write but imported from the movie, albeit without specific credit to songwriter/screenwriter Mike White. Fellowes’ script largely follows White’s; such changes as are made fairly consistently emphasise a vein of vaporous aspirationalism rather than rockist stroppiness. Similarly, all Dewey’s attempts to educate his young charges in the culture of rock, its icons and attitudes, have vanished from the stage version. This is a thoroughly deracinated rock world... except, awkwardly, that in the young cast performing on press night, the three Afro-Caribbean girls in the class also happened to become the three backing singers. (And no-one noticed, even with the coloured girls literally going doo-do-doo?)

The kids are remarkable, it has to be said. It’s stressed that they play their instruments live, and young Toby Lee consistently shows himself to be a better and ballsier guitarist than David Fynn as Dewey. Fynn sticks closely to the cinematic template of Jack Black’s performance, but with an unhelpful edge of slight mockery where Black is always principally lampooning himself. As for the transgression which is at the heart of the story... well, when Dewey and class launched into a number actually entitled “Stick It To The Man”, the press-night audience clapped along indulgently. Hmm.

Written for the Financial Times.