Despite not, one must assume, being an actual subtitle of this lavish new touring production of Miss Saigon, good luck finding any materials associated with it not having ‘The Legend Reborn’ slapped all over it (go on, take a look at that poster).

Part pitch, part invitation, it’s a nifty (and suitably theatrical) call to action for audiences to be summoned to what has always been the less ubiquitous of the Boublil and Schönberg big two (the other being, of course, the inescapable Les Misérables).

And as mission statements go, it’s pretty on-point. Here, Michael Harrison and team have rebuilt, redesigned and in parts even rewritten Saigon into a recognisable yet confidently reimagined beast. Yes, it’s still saddled with some of the show’s inherent lopsidedness and mawkish cul-de-sacs, but a tremendous cast and some truly stellar design work give it a whole new lease of eye (and ear) popping life.

Fans and purists trembling at the mention of rewrites can be assuaged, too; this is still the Miss Saigon you know and love. Much of the tinkering, courtesy of the National Theatre’s Rob Hastie, brings some of the more dated or coarse sung-spoke dialogue to a more contemporary place. ‘Half-breeds’ becomes ‘little ones’ when referring to the left behind children of ‘Bui Doi’. Completely agreeable things like that.

“Fans and purists trembling at the mention of rewrites can be assuaged, too; this is still the Miss Saigon you know and love.”

But broadly, the story still follows the same, Puccini-inspired tale of an ill-fated romance between a disenfranchised US marine (Jack Kane) and Vietnamese girl (Julianne Pundan) who has been enveloped into the underbelly of Saigon’s nightlife, during the closing of the Vietnam conflict. Orbiting the two is Seann Miley Moore’s swindling ‘Engineer’, a larger-than-life wheeler-dealer scheming and exploiting where he can in the hopes of getting a visa to pursue his ‘American Dream’.

Given its wider geo-political context, Saigon remains a surprisingly focused and even simple affair. Yes, there’s still the thrilling evacuation sequence (also repurposed here, yet no less effective as members of the company zip up and down into the beyond), and fleeting ruminations on the wider consequences of war, such as the stirring ‘Bui Doi’ Act II opener. But it remains ultimately a show about a love torn asunder and a mother’s determination to better the life of her child.

In a week where Jon M Chu’s second Wicked movie is reviving conversations about just how many musical’s suffer from wobblier second halves, Miss Saigon proves itself a high profile reminder. Cramming Madama Butterfly’s three act structure into two is felt, making for a meaty, sweeping and romantic first half, followed by a decidedly flatter and thinner second. There’s good stuff in that last hour, for certain – that helicopter moment, and this production’s heightened, Drag Race-esque ‘American Dream’ set piece keeps it being comfortably one of the best parts of the whole show – but it’s undeniably front-loaded.

Thankfully, even as some of its second Act wheels into soap opera or Lifetime territory, a genuinely stunning company keep us invested. Julianne Pundan is an exceptional Kim, delivering both powerhouse vocals and a blistering turn as a defiant young woman who refuses to be victim or damsel, despite the horrors about her. She gets a lot of big sings – ‘The Movie In My Mind’ (pairing up beautifully with a similarly impressive Ace as Gigi), ‘I’d Give My Life For You’ and ‘I Still Believe’ to name but a few, and Pundan goes to town with each of them. A seriously impressive performance. Jack Kane imbues his Chris with a sensitivity and later flashes of trauma that bounce nicely off of Pundan’s steelier Kim.

“Julianne Pundan is an exceptional Kim, delivering both powerhouse vocals and a blistering turn as a defiant young woman who refuses to be victim or damsel…”

Dominic Hartley-Harris, Emily Langham and Mikko Juan all get moments to impress in supporting roles, but it’s Seann Miley Moore as the Engineer who threatens to steal the whole thing from beneath the lovebirds. Landing in an era of Me Too and Epstein files, some of the more problematic edges of the role are softened a little here, with Moore dialling the mercurial flamboyance and opportunism of the character up to eleven. Sexy, sleazy, comedic, villainous and anti-hero all rolled into one, it’s a kinetic, dazzling and chameleonic turn, utterly infectious to watch and arguably worth the ticket price alone.

Were the performances not enough, Andrew D Edwards and Bruno Poet’s design and lighting work muster up a similar feast for the senses. Peeling back some of the glitz and neon of the original production in favour of something grittier and earthy, Edwards sets are tremendous labyrinths of levels, layers, depth and verticality. From the seedy back alleys of Saigon to the red swathes and pillars of later Ho Chi Minh City in ‘The Morning of the Dragon’, this is a scale and quality of touring production rarely seen. Bathed gloriously in Poet’s spotlights and side-spilling waves of light, it’s likely the prettiest and most visually arresting tour you’ll see this year.

It’s just a shame that, in the performance reviewed, some of the sound mixing and mics felt off at times, with the excellent vocalists drowned out by the orchestra or otherwise barely audible in key moments. Something of a crime, given their obvious skills.

But yes, the legend has indeed been reborn. Sure, this phoenix Saigon still carries some of the original production’s narrative baggage and wonkiness, and that three act curvature remains as glaring as ever. But inspired casting from a company giving it their all on a truly gorgeous playground makes for one of the most impressive touring productions of the year, and an evening of theatre that you certainly won’t be screaming to get airlifted out of.