When it opened in the West End just over a decade ago, it’s fair to say Sam Mendes’ musical adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory received a mixed response from audiences and critics alike. It was by no means a flop, running for over 3 years and at one stage breaking weekly sales records, and it certainly didn’t lack ambition. Indeed, its Olivier-winning costumes and lighting plonked within ambitious, technicolor staging forged a spectacle that even Dahl would likely have been dazzled by.

Hot off of the success of the RSC and Tim Minchin’s Matilda the Musical, though – a show that had the wit and whimsy to go alongside the wow factor – Charlie’s storytelling and musicality fell a little flat.

For this new revival tour, there’ve been a handful of tweaks to the Wonka formula, perhaps most notably in Simon Higlett’s all-new staging and an abundance of Simon Wainwright and Chris Fisher’s video visuals, but are they enough to confect a truly marvellous creation (apologies, Bournville…) from a perfectly sweet but ultimately forgettable treat?

It’s fair to say the results are mixed. Quality streets ahead of much of the production about them are a truly fantastic cast and ensemble. Gareth Snook is a fizzing bundle of eccentricity, oddness and even a dash of the sinister, with a superbly characterful and scene-stealing turn as Wonka himself. Though his introduction is slightly scuppered by an ill-advised tinkering with one of the original production’s best numbers, Snook carries the second act with an energetic silliness that injects just enough heart into its ham. Good stuff.

“Gareth Snook is a fizzing bundle of eccentricity, oddness and even a dash of the sinister…”

Perhaps even more impressive still is young Jessie-Lou Harvie who, as one of four youths sharing the titular role of the good-hearted Charlie Bucket, showcased genuinely stunning vocals (including a mean belt) and a delightfully buoyant optimism in the performance that made her endearing and immediately easy to root for. Many of Dahl’s tales hinge on a relatable protagonist amidst all the magic and mayhem, and Chocolate Factory is no exception. If the character is a little sidelined come the eventual factory tour shenanigans – relegated mostly to after-the-fact reactions as her ghastly fellow tykes get their due comeuppance – Harvie navigates the more sincere and tender moments of the show, and the more character-focused first Act in particular, like a complete pro.

Around the two mains, supporting cast members pop (sometimes literally) into life and occasionally elevate the show beyond its fairly pedestrian book. Robin Simões Da Silva and Kate Milner Evans are early highlights as the gluttonous, yodelling Gloops. Marisha Morgan and Emily Winter inject one of the show’s best numbers, ‘Queen of Pop’, with plenty of sass and vim, whilst Leonia Spilsbury navigates two very different maternal roles with sincerity and hilarity both. Michael D’Cruze gets some of the biggest laughs as an animated, loveable Grandpa Joe, with his ‘Don’cha Pinch Me, Charlie’ a fun, peppy number that comes perhaps the closest to channeling Dahl’s whimsy.

So far, so sweet.

Perhaps the most notable flaws in the Chocolate Factory recipe, though, are that it both feels structurally lopsided and the majority of its musical numbers are utterly forgettable. With the entirety of the first Act dedicated to establishing its players and the five lucky ‘Golden Ticket’ winners, it falls on the second (and superior) half to cram in a fairly breakneck whizz through the factory within a breezy 60 minutes. Sure, there’s some method in the madness – it isn’t difficult to see the mentality behind giving each of the five winning children their own themed musical introductions. Television obsessed Mike Teavee (Teddy Hinde) and his ‘lemonade’ swilling mother, for instance, get a hyperkinetic explosion of screens and noise, whilst the brattish, balletic Veruca Salt (a delightfully pointed Kazmin Borrer) gets the truly on-the-nose ‘When Veruca Says’.

But despite clearly pouring hundred and thousands of character beats and ideas into its approach, Chocolate Factory never really ignites musically. A surprise, given its tunes are penned by Marc Shaiman (of Hairspray and Sister Act fame.

The tour’s approach to its visuals and staging are something of a liquorice allsorts, too. The original London production was critiqued by some for being far too much style over substance, and its technical wizardry bypassing the relatability of Dahl’s original work.

Whilst there’s certainly far less physical staging this time round, with much of the heavy lifting for the adventures throughout the factory left to video, projection and illusion work, the first Act in particular can regularly feel underplayed as a result. It’s certainly a shame that some of the ticket holder’s introductions, formerly big-budget set pieces and showstoppers, rely here on almost pure imagination.

Other choices confuse – the iconic Oompa Loompa’s are given fairly big fanfare, but end up looking like rejects from Doctor Who or Wicked, and the entire stage is framed by a collection of smaller video screens that are often far too small to register the scene-setting and storytelling at play. A good example being at the end of Violet Beauregarde’s (pitched here as a kind of child influencer progeny for the TikTok age) big number, where there’s a fun gag played on said screens, where a run of credits play to the Beauregarde ego, but it’s real squint-or-you’ll-miss-it stuff.

“It’s probably telling that some of the best moments are the least technically audacious…”

Wainright and Fisher’s visuals are crisp and at a beautifully high resolution and frame-rate, but they’re generally at their best when complementing rather than supplementing the staging. Some fun visual gags, such as elevator trips between floors of the factory, are effective and inventive, but where they replace practically everything else on stage, the whole thing tiptoes dangerously close to panto territory. It’s probably telling that some of the best moments are the least technically audacious – with inflatable and micro children getting huge (and deserved) laughs, and one of the best set pieces, a wonderfully nutty (literally) encounter with a giant squirrel, perhaps the least reliant on the projections and video work.

In all, this return to Wonka’s playground is a colourful, enjoyable and suitably sweet treat. It is absolutely carried by a genuinely impressive cast who do wonderful work, even as they sometimes have almost nothing around them to play with. The general shortcomings of book and music both are given little remedy here, and in some cases (such as the aforementioned Wonka introduction) even come over as steps backwards. It’s probably a little too slow to get started for the super young, but come Snook’s introduction and the more arresting second Act, it gains enough fun and momentum to make it a shiny, sugary evening of theatre.