It’s a universal truth in the ebbing, organic flow of theatre making.

Just because one production is good, doesn’t mean they all will be.

Perhaps the reigning example of this creed is the wildly variable Ghost the Musical. The original West End production and subsequent tour remains one of the most technically dazzling and ambitious musicals ever put to stage. The barely watchable Bill Kenwright homunculus of it that followed a few years later, starring the late Sarah Harding, was a disaster. Its most recent reincarnation landed somewhere in between.

Of course, the reverse can be true, as well. One would rather pluck one’s own teeth than revisit the 2017 tour of Grease, whilst Nikolai Foster’s recent revisit gave it a much-needed MOT into a really exciting and vibrant piece of musical theatre.

Which brings us to Bat Out Of Hell, a show which, back in 2022 this very outlet called ‘one of the most gorgeous, vibrantly and innovatively realised productions you will see in any theatre.’

No prizes for guessing where this is going…

First, the good. This new, non-replica production at least gets its casting on point. Bringing back former cast members Glenn Adamson, Rob Fowler and Sharon Sexton alone makes for a compelling argument to see them do their thing. Katie Tonkinson, so great last year in the ill-fated Bonnie & Clyde, is equally impressive, and rounds out the central cast with gusto.

Bat continues to boast some of the best vocals you could wish for in a musical production, with Adamson and co routinely knocking raising the roofs with killer riffs and belts to what are, after all, seriously demanding sings in the discography or Meatloaf and Jim Steinman.

They’re enveloped by more excellence, too. Georgia Bradshaw, Luke Street and Ryan Carter are all seriously impressive, and a special shout out must go to local Wolverhampton talent Sophie-Rose Emery, who delivered a powerhouse understudy Valkyrie in the performance reviewed.

“The stage is almost literally set aflame with talent, and when you can just allow yourself to be swept along in the rock ’n roll of it all, there are moments of pure electricity.”

The stage is almost literally set aflame with talent, and when you can just allow yourself to be swept along in the rock ’n roll of it all, there are moments of pure electricity.

So give this company all their deserved plaudits; they give it their all and present some seriously commanding and soaring numbers masterfully.

The issue is, frankly, everything else. And the calibre of talent assembled for this production only makes its waste of them all the more glaring.

This is Bat Out Of Hell – the Ozempic years. Whilst never the most intricate or groundbreaking of narratives, Steinman’s original book presented a dystopian slant on Peter Pan, all drenched in lashings of punk rock anarchy. The bones of its story are just about intact: a powerful, corporate overlord (Rob Fowler) tries to prevent his ingenue daughter, Raven (Katie Tonkinson) from becoming entangled with Start (Glenn Adamson), the spunky leader of a group of rebellious youths who will never grow old.

For those familiar with the previous production, it’s impossible to not feel disappointed that so much of the plot and substance is either blitzed through or chopped out altogether. And yet, despite taking out entire numbers (three in total), it doesn’t seem to have any time for world or character-building, either. Spare a thought for those who are new to it all; interval murmurings had several people completely lost as to what on earth was supposed to be going on.

As well as being inexcusably rushed, rendering some of it almost incomprehensible, there’s precious little sense of character or motivation. The central love interest and Raven’s parents seem to separate and reunite every ten minutes. Good luck decoding why; there seems to be more time given to the reasons behind the will they, won’t they of Bradshaw and Carter’s Zahara and Jagwire. Someone says something about underground tunnels and ‘deep ends’ at some point. Answers on a postcard for the uninitiated.

Without context or breathing space, moments of humour fall flat or, in the case of what was formerly a raucous, show-stopping duet between Fowler and Sexton, feel uncomfortable and jarring here. 

“As well as being inexcusably rushed…. there’s precious little sense of character or motivation.”

And the choreography. It’s serviceable for some of the bigger set pieces – the company briefly bringing ‘Dead Ringer for Love’ to life as a song and dance interlude – but for the most part it’s bizarre, distracting and borderline parodic. Whenever our two leads are together they awkwardly bound about each other like a pair of agitated rabbits. It feels laden, awkward and at times even amateur.

This Bat Out Of Hell is directed in a fashion that seems, if anything, annoyingly burdened by the whole musical theatre inconvenience, when it really just wants to be a staged rock concert. For most shows of this ilk, that would acceptable (enjoyable, even). Yet there’s no denying this Bat has had its wings, logic and much of its compelling uniqueness clipped altogether. So much of what made it a fun, quirky and original piece of musical theatre storytelling has been binned in favour of a rushed, confusing mess.

The legitimately superb cast do their absolute best to salvage it, and the vocals and performances remain arguably worth the price of admission alone, but as the pendulum of production quality swings, the former great version of this show is All Coming Back to Me Now.

And I guess, with that in mind, Two out of Five Stars ain’t bad…