Disco decibels drown the fury

THE ACTIVITY on stage for the Bill Kenwright presentation of Blood Brothers is phenomenal and that's before any of the cast start moving. Sections of the efficient set fly in and out at every opportunity spotlights wheel around to target the next important bit of business, and a blast from the synthesiser emphasises the fact that the important bit of business has just occurred.

So confrontational is the directing style preferred by Bob Tomson that it is a mild surprise when the players make sense they even make fun and the tragic undertones and overtones which we know are lurking in the wings are allowed to lurk long enough for the comedy and coincidences of the plot (Willy Russell) to come together in support of the music (Willy Russell), which is otherwise as subtle as a terrier with a bone.

This is techno melodrama. The sound control is set at disco decibels. It is impossible to tell whether the cast is singing or miming for the bigger numbers (they're all big, some more than others). The effect is one of distance, as if this is virtual reality, or the karaoke version where is all the noise coming from? There is a small group of musicians in the pit, but the conductor commands a keyboard and a set of imperative red lights. The orchestra feeds into a backing mix. The lyrics (Willy Russell) vanish. Is this the future for the musical, miked and mimed and synchronised for the computer generation?

Somehow, the story of separated twin brothers stays alive under this, largely because of the commitment of the cast, led by Rebecca Storm, Paul "Crosby and Susan McArdle, a trio who provide all the charm of the piece, which is given an impressive Liverpudlian backdrop by designer Andy Walmsley.