There’s something strangely poetic (ironic?) about a production of Ghost being itself haunted from beyond the grave.

And no, we don’t callously mean the late, great Bill Kenwright.

Rather, the shadow of the past that is the original, celebrated run of the show looms large over this revived incarnation of Kenwright and co’s 2016 production, just as it did then.

Debuting back in 2011, first in Manchester, later in London and then finally on tour across the UK, Ballard, Rubin and Stewart’s stage adaptation of the Oscar-winning 1990s box office smash was fairly unanimously praised for its stunning stagecraft and effects work. To this date, although it was frequently beset with technical faults because of the sheer scope and ambition of what it took on the road, the OG run of Ghost the Musical remains quite possibly the most visually arresting and impressive touring production the UK has seen.

The core narrative remains the same as the movie and former runs. Doe-eyed lovebirds Molly (Rebekah Lowings) and Sam (Josh St. Clair) move in together in their new Brooklyn apartment, pottery wheel and all. But when tragedy strikes and Sam is killed by a mugger, Molly’s world is turned upside down. Sam’s spirit meanwhile, seemingly trapped on Earth, must unravel the mystery behind his murder and protect his beloved Molly, enlisting the help of fraudulent psychic Oda Mae Brown (Jacqui Dubois), who turns out to be the only one who can hear him from beyond the grave.

“…much of the criticism that was laid at the door of the show almost a decade ago sadly rings true here.”

Being a marginally revamped take on Kenwright’s more stripped-back affair of 2016, much of the criticism that was laid at the door of the show almost a decade ago sadly rings true here. By contrast to what has come before, so much of the staging and illusion work here – crucial to sell the ethereal and otherworldly elements that are so integral to the show – feel underwhelming, or at times even amateur, when compared with the original, dazzling production.

And whilst, yes, audiences going in with no experience of the original production will perhaps fare slightly better, nonetheless uninspired, hokey choreography, pitchy sound and what are at times quite literally wobbly set pieces all contribute to the feeling of a show that isn’t quite up to snuff.

Thankfully, the major death knell last time round – namely, casting – is markedly improved for 2025.

“Lowings is a veritable powerhouse… her searing rendition of fan favourite ‘With You’ is truly goose pimple inducing stuff…”

Whereas previously the late Sarah Harding (of Girls Aloud fame) sadly struggled with the big vocal asks (and acts) of Molly, Lowings is a veritable powerhouse with them. Her searing rendition of fan favourite ‘With You’ is truly goose pimple inducing stuff, and she tugs on the heartstrings with a moving, authentic turn throughout, even if Rubin’s book leaves her with rather little to do during the middle third of the show. Josh St. Clair, as Sam, is suitably frustrated and anguished, and is quite the belter in the higher registers himself. He unenviably inherits much of the production’s low-key approach to illusions and effects work, but gives it his all trying to sell the kind of rudimentary newspaper trickery you’d expect of early Paul Daniels or Blue Peter.

Jacqui Dubois navigated some initial mic dips to give a fun, spirited turn as the feisty Oda Mae (a role which won Whoopi Goldberg the Oscar), though this reviewer would loved to have seen more of her sisters, too, with Tanisha Butterfield and Krishna Jackson-Jones singing up a sassy storm for their introductory two-hander.

Elsewhere, understudy Jamie Pritchard was smooth yet slippery, and similarly in fine voice, as shady broker and bestie, Carl. And Garry Lee infuses palpable rage and intimidating frustration into his imposing subway spectre.

In all, Ghost the Musical remains a pleasant, occasionally funny and ultimately quite moving piece of musical theatre. If its central romance doesn’t always entirely convince – with early scenes feeling a touch too gawky – by the end you’ll likely be won over. Dave Stewart and Glen Ballard’s music bandies between stirring power ballads and less memorable character pieces, and it’s all applied a liberal dose of cheddar. It probably says something that the most memorable musical moment is arguably the only one it inherits from the film – The Righteous Brothers’ ‘Unchained Melody’ being put to liberal use here.

But there’s little shying away from the fact that, for all of the evident talent on stage, and some knockout vocals throughout, it feels like something of a shadow of its former self. And if it may seem unfair to judge a production against its past versions, even on its own merits there is a lot here that feels undercooked or pedestrian.

If you’re a fan of the original film you will likely find plenty to enjoy, and there are certainly performances worth catching, with a couple of the numbers in particular delivered to a stunning standard this time round.

And yet, indeed, here is one Ghost the Musical that, for want of a better analogy, feels haunted by the spectre of its own former grandeur and glory.

There’s always the looming hazard of that pesky moralistic tripwire cutting through any biopic – even musical ones – that depict the infamous. Namely, can this be seen to be glorifying or, perhaps worse, even justifying the actions of the deplorable and deranged?

Musical theatre, after all, isn’t exactly shy of championing the anti-hero or even the outright murderous (American Psycho, Sweeney Todd). Heck, the likes of Chicago even satirise the very concept of infamy as celebrity, crime as commodity.

But when slapped on the framework of a true story plucked from history, sensitivities can understandably prickle.

For the most part, Ivan Menchell, Don Black and Frank Wildhorn’s musical retelling of the rise and fall of notorious bandits Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow manages to steer clear of trying to outwardly excuse their thieving, gunslinging ways. Barrow (Alex James-Hatton) is framed as a wrong ‘un roughneck from the off, impervious to common sense and decent suggestion, habitually hopping in and out of prison, and bubbling away in his own mire of anger and frustration. And, when the darkness descends, the show doesn’t shy away from commenting on the character’s descent from petty burglar to murderer. Parker (Katie Tonkinson) is introduced as a sassy waitress with dreams of Hollywood and a penchant for poetry. Her downward spiral feels a touch less defined.

“…two commanding central performances and some jaunty, memorable tunes hold together the slightly unsure, meandering book.”

Bonnie & Clyde is, for the most part, a love story about its titular crooks, and even if it never quite digs deep enough for us to really engage with what makes the duo tick, or indeed quite why they are so inexorably drawn to one another, two commanding central performances and some jaunty, memorable tunes hold together the slightly unsure, meandering book.

And transferred from its recent West End iteration, Nick Winston’s tour is certainly a looker. Its muted greys and blacks, heavy, layered use of Nina Dunn‘s projections and stark casts of Zoe Spurr’s lighting spilling through bullet hole-ridden walls or casting out harshly from the wings certainly makes for an impression. It’s a handsome piece, with more than a flair of the cinematic in its bold, stylised execution. Few touring productions play with quite so much on-stage depth and dimension, nor look quite so striking, so kudos to Winston and designer Philip Witcomb for successfully transplanting this on the road with such visceral impact.

Given the aforementioned quality of its soundtrack, it’s perhaps surprising the show has been relatively untouched here in the UK up until last year. There’s a decided (and understandable) country lilt to it all, but Wildhorn and Black’s soundtrack is littered with ear-worms and a good mix of characterful toe-tappers and some surprisingly heartrending belters, too. Who’d have thought a number about dying together could somehow be affecting, profound, fatalistic and yearning all at once?

Of the cast, the only supporting characters who make any sort of dent or impression are Clyde’s brother, ‘Buck’ (Sam Ferriday) and god-fearing, law-abiding wife Blanche (Coronation Street’s Catherine Tyldesley). Tyldesley is particularly fun and fiesty, in many ways serving as the moral compass of the piece, getting a terrific and stirring duet with Tonkinson about loving who you will, and despairing as her ‘daddy’ keeps finding himself embroiled in his brother’s problematic ways. And though the show doesn’t do a tremendous amount with him, Ferriday is in fine voice, and makes the most of what moments he gets as the conflicted Buck.

“Tyldesley is particularly fun and fiesty, in many ways serving as the moral compass of the piece.”

Elsewhere, a nifty gospel number deftly intercuts preaching and proselytising with Clyde’s increasingly dangerous larceny, and makes good use of singer Jaz Ellington’s soulful vocals, and Winston’s flair as director-choreographer keeps the show spritely and kinetic throughout, even in its talkier moments.

But really, much of the impact of Bonnie & Clyde rests, unsurprisingly, on the shoulders (and lungs) of its two leads, and they are quite criminally good. Tonkinson as Bonnie makes for the perfect aspiring ingenue, naive and distracted enough to the point that she’s giddy at the thought of a hostage asking for her autograph, and still clinging to hopes and dreams of Hollywood even as the bodies pile up. With undeniable charm and appeal, it’s easy to imagine this Parker actually having what it takes to have become a bonafide star (albeit less claret-stained). And whilst the book doesn’t afford Bonnie quite as much introspection or perspective as her beau, she gets some great sings, with Tonkinson delivering an impressive blend of both the powerful and the delicate, complete with signature Texan lilt.

“…it’s easy to imagine this Parker actually having what it takes to have become a bonafide star.”

In what deserves to be a star-making turn, Alex James-Hatton is all fire, rage and truly stellar vocals as Clyde. Lending the bandit the perfect, intoxicating mix of dashing, cocksure allure and fringes of something far more sinister, it’s a barnstorming performance. James-Hatton doesn’t shy away from the lighter, even sillier moments, too, rounding out a seriously impressive outing. And in case it hasn’t been clear, the boy can sing.

Whilst it does fumble about a bit trying to find its perspective, message and purpose (brace yourself for the most perfunctory, cookie-cutter law enforcement you’ve ever known), there’s a lot to enjoy in this sexy, showy retelling of Bonnie & Clyde. Mercifully, it doesn’t seek to glorify or excuse its subjects (though in fairness, it doesn’t probe too deep beneath the surface, anyway). On paper, there’s precious little here that will blow your mind or break the mould, but when it is this strikingly staged, and carried by two absolute powerhouse, tour-de-force performances that inject the enjoyable score with range and heart to spare, it makes for a guns-blazing, roof-raising spark of intoxicating folie à deux.

Would you be criminal to miss it? Perhaps not, but it’s certainly a drive well worth taking.