And now… we cut to the obligatory dance sequence clumsily shoehorned in to showcase our highly-publicised Strictly headliner.

A permeating, inescapable blight on the current theatre landscape.

Ok, so that’s clearly hyperbole (not to mention needlessly cynical), but any regular theatregoer will attest that there’s certainly been no shortage of the pros of Auntie Beeb’s wildly successful dance competition tangoing or fox trotting their way into musical theatre productions.

And savvy producers know – if their Strictly prestige is going to help put bums in seats, the audience will be expecting to see plenty of that soft-shoeing to boot.

Birmingham strikes glitterball gold this week with not one, but two, major musicals landing in the City headlined by Strictly fan favourites. But what’s particularly striking is how Kinky Boots at the Hippodrome, much like Chicago at the neighbouring Alexandra, is not only not diminished by its ‘stunt’ casting, but notably elevated by it.

From the moment he makes his breathtaking, show-stopping entrance as fiery drag queen Lola, South African born Johannes Radebe crushes any doubts or concerns firmly beneath his impressive, glittering stiletto heel. Having witnessed even the likes of Billy Porter and Matt Henry in their award-winning takes on the role, nothing could prepare for the relentless whirlwind of wonder that Radebe unleashes in the role.

He’s let loose in the playground of Nikolai Foster, in this handsome and impressive Leicester Curve Production. Within Robert Jones’ wonderfully intricate and immersive Northampton shoe factory, and adorned with Jones’ resplendent frocks, this Boots dials its Kinky right up to eleven. Radebe’s opening tentpole, ‘Land of Lola’ is transformed, not least of all courtesy of some thrilling choreo from Leah Hill (which Radebe and his ‘angels’ naturally eat up) from a feisty drag cabaret number in former productions to a high-octane, tour-de-force musical theatre explosion.

It sets the standard for what is to follow, as Foster, Hill, Radebe and company serve up a revival that is about as audacious and electric as you could wish for.

For those unfamiliar, Kinky Boots tells the story of Charlie Price (Daniel Partridge) who inherits his late father’s shoe factory. With his new inheritance facing financial difficulties and impending closure, and not wanting to sling his staff out on the breadline, a chance encounter with the feisty Lola sees Charlie pivot production to a new niche. Namely – drag queens.

“This is full-throated musical theatre at its most dazzling.”

Whilst never the most groundbreaking or original of tales (its firmly from the Billy Elliot school of affirming Britcom), its overriding messages of acceptance and individuality remain as prescient as ever, and it is choc full of fun and loveable characters. Not least of all Lola, who remains an infectious, irrepressible creation. Foster and team lend a handful of quality of life finesses to Harvey Fierstein’s funny, witty book, mainly around some of the terminology bandied about, but along with Cyndi Lauper’s music, it all sings.

And Foster once again proves himself the master of the set piece. In addition to the aforementioned ‘Land of Lola’, the energy, sound and spectacle that he and Hill inject into the likes of ‘Sex Is In The Heel’ and fist-pumping curtain closer ‘Raise You Up/Just Be’ – including, yes, some truly stunning pit stops for Radebe to truly go to town with – is almost dizzying. This is full-throated musical theatre at its most dazzling.

The rest of the company are far from slouches, either. The dependable and exciting Dan Partridge is a perfect choice as the well-meaning but conflicted Charlie. As well as being in fine voice, he finds plenty of nuance in the quieter, reflective beats too, not to mention giving great frustration and anguish during a roaring ‘Soul of a Man’. Courtney Bowman regularly threatens to steal scenes as the sardonic yet lovestruck Lauren, belting some of the evening’s most impressive vocals, as Joe Caffrey, Kara Lily Hayworth and Liam Doyle all do great work in smaller, supporting turns.

Naturally, any moment Scott Paige is on stage is an opportunity to witness something fun, too, with the actor’s unassailable comedic instincts milking every ounce of hilarity and heartwarming kindness from his George.

If you absolutely had to pick at the seams of this Kinky Boots, then you could argue that sometimes it’s a big too big and brash for its own good, with the odd snippet of dialogue or plot lost in the busyness and loudness of it all. Similarly, whilst this particular reviewer will have no bad thing said about Radebe’s Lola, his smooth, soulful vocals don’t entirely lend themselves to a late-game power ballad. But it’s an empowering, gorgeous moment that Radebe completely sells, nonetheless.

But look, that’s picking at sequins.

‘Leave expectations at the door, just let your eyes explore…’ Lola sings in her opening bars. In the hands of Foster, Hill and Radebe, surrounded by the likes of Partridge, Bowman, Paige and other musical theatre excellence, in one of the best musical revivals in recent memory, it turns out to be not so much an invitation as an irresistible command.

Many a theatregoer – and practically every critic, blogger or mouthpiece, for that matter – will often be found opining the evils of stunt casting. How effective it actually is to plonk a reality star reject or recently-departed soap regular into a show in the hopes of filling seats remains open for debate. Plenty of ‘star’ vehicles have crashed and burnt to half-empty auditoriums before even getting off the starting block.

And even where they have sold their tickets and gathered the crowds, the lost potential (at best) can often be unforgivable.

Nowhere was this perhaps more apparent than in the 2017 touring production of Grease, which saw the likes of Eastenders’ Louisa Lytton and others flatlining around in a criminally underpowered version of the show. To have called it car crash theatre may have been a trifle cruel, but it was, at the very least, in need of a serious MOT, and the principle diagnosed fault had to be its casting.

Which is an awfully protracted way of getting round to why Nikolai Foster’s latest incarnation of the seventies favourite is so bloody good.

As he has evinced time and time again, Foster is a champion of trained, capable musical theatre talent, and there is, mercifully, nary a whiff of stunt casting or its like anywhere to be found in this turbocharged jolt of automatic, systematic, hydromatic musical theatre.

Many taking to their seats will likely be intimately familiar with the 1978 John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John smash hit. Yet, inevitably for its time, there’s almost an hour’s worth of numbers and material that Kleiser and Paramount chopped from the stage version to make it a palatable cinema serving.

These cutting room excisions all make strong returns here, with Foster and choreographer Dame Arlene Phillips whipping up a fast-paced, hyper energetic dose of Greased Lightnin’ that really burns up the quarter mile.

The core beats and narrative tentpoles remain intact; this remains fundamentally a romantic back-and-forth between cocksure jock Danny Zuko (Marley Fenton) and sweet-natured – if naive – Sandy Dumbrowski (Hope Dawe) who find their idyllic summer romance put to the test in the most brutal arena of all – 1950’s American high school.

“…in this fuller, non-truncated iteration of Grease, it’s many of the supporting characters who really get some flesh put on their bones…”

And yet, in this fuller, non-truncated iteration of Grease, it’s many of the supporting characters who really get some flesh put on their bones. A charming, beautifully-sung duet between Roger (Lewis Day) and Jan (Emerald B). Marty’s (India Chadwick) longing for a distant sweetheart. And heck, even Danny himself gets an ‘I Want’ that isn’t entirely centred around Sandy, in the existential ‘How Big I’m Gonna Be’.

For sure, there are elements of Grease that occasionally bring its age into sharp focus. It isn’t the most blisteringly original or daring of stories – ultimately a big scramble of teenage angst, frustration and stubbornness. Even if its feisty finale wasn’t now the thing of cultural legend, as Sandy sheds her coyness and hesitancy to don her skintight leathers and get her man, you could see where it’s all headed a mile off.

But that’s Grease. It’s a story and show decidedly of its time. Nobody looks for postmodernism or daring in, say, The Sound of Music.

What Foster, Phillips and the company have done then, is deliver the most kinetic, bold and invigorated vision that they can. The result is likely the best that Grease has ever looked or sounded.

Phillips choreography and Foster’s razor sharp direction keeps things moving fast and purposeful. The big numbers and set pieces, that are by now likely wedding and family party staples – your ‘Summer Nights’, ‘You’re the One That I Want’ and, naturally, ‘Greased Lightnin’ – are staged with incredible, boundless energy and excitement.

Colin Richmond’s moving, swinging, interlocking set design offers up plenty of verticality, with the company often leaping, climbing or swinging about it all. In less confident hands, it could easily become little more than a noisy mess, but Foster, hugely abetted by Ben Cracknell’s fantastic lighting, keeps the focus defined and the eye drawn where it needs to on what is often a very busy but always hugely entertaining stage.

Showers of sparks erupt for the coda of ‘Greased Lightnin’. Speaking of which, there is for all intents and purposes a car on stage where needed (no Rocky Horror-esque flats here). Marty’s bedroom detaches and swings open into columns and platforms for the Pink Ladies to adopt their backing positions during ‘Freddy, My Love’. And throughout, the smooth-talking Vince Fontaine (Joe Gash) sets the tone and scene both from his bird’s nest DJ booth from the upstage heights.

It’s a frequently dazzling, often thrilling litmus of how Grease can – and very definitely should – be staged.

Circling back to that former bugbear of casting, there are precisely zero grumbles here. Far from it – the assembled cast deserve all the plaudits. As mentioned, the energy levels throughout the performance reviewed were blisteringly high across the entire company.

“It’s a frequently dazzling, often thrilling litmus of how Grease can – and very definitely should – be staged.”

Marley Fenton (The Wizard of Oz, Stephen Sondheim’s Old Friends) continues his ascent as an exciting musical theatre talent to watch. He shrewdly forgoes any attempt or inkling to imitate Travolta, and creates a Danny Zuko all of his own. Hope Dawe injects a very welcome bit of fire and grit into the belly of her Sandy, aided by the fact that the longer stage show gives her more moments of direct conflict and agency. She also proves an incredible vocalist – with some quite staggering belts in ‘Summer Nights’, ‘Hopelessly Devoted To You’ and the reprise of ‘Sandra Dee’.

Rebecca Stenhouse, meanwhile, is completely perfect as the guarded, caustic yet hilarious Rizzo, nailing what is arguably the show’s best character and taking her on a palpable journey. It’s a terrific supporting turn, and one beautifully met by a similarly great Adam Davidson, who impressed from the off covering the role of Kenickie in the performance reviewed.

Joe Gash makes the absolute most of every moment he’s on the stage, be it as a swivelling, crooning, loose-hipped (and even looser lipped!) Fontaine or a deliciously camp Teen Angel. Lewis Day, Sario Solomon and Kieran Lynch are all great fun as the other main players of the ‘Burger Palace Boys’ (sorry, no T-birds here) and Alicia Belgarde is delightful as the suitably ebulant and chipper ‘Frenchy’.

But throw a rock on stage at Grease (not literally, please) and you will hit serious talent.

And in many ways, with its fuller roster of numbers and stronger focus on the wider cast, it is decidedly it’s own thing for those only familiar with the film.

But with truly electrifying direction, Dame Arlene’s mega horsepower choreography and a teenage dream of a cast giving it their all at every moment, any spectres or shadows of underpowered and ‘star’ laden productions of yesteryear already begin to vanish.

Grease is the word.

And, by any dint of comparison, this production surely deserves to be the definitive one.