HEAVEN. Top Hat swishes into the North East on a waft of marabou and brilliantine. For such an immaculately crafted show, it was ironic that its opening night was plagued by a technical issue which brought the curtain down for a few minutes mid-act, but love is very forgiving and oh my, how we loved it.

It’s scandalous, of course, what with its casual racism, domestic violence and shameless fur-flaunting, but oh-so-charming with it. Irving Berlin’s score is a dreamboat of romantic classics, from Puttin’ on the Ritz to Cheek to Cheek ….. My mother announced she liked the number with the Top Hats. That’ll be Top Hat, then.

Fred Astaire’s tap shoes were always going to be almost impossible to fill, but Alan Burkitt as Jerry Travers has honed an immaculate performance with impeccable moves and presence. He captures the real essence of the character, including a singing accent hugely evocative of the original. All the main company are solid and authentic, but I also adored Charlotte Gooch’s slightly icy Dale Tremont and Rebecca Thornhill, as a very knowing, mildly waspish Madge.

The sets and costumes are decadent and the look is lavish art deco. In Act 1 each reveal of a new setting is a genuine joy and the eye which has put this together has been concerned with every last detail. Perfection, almost.

The audience was transfixed, from ooh-ing at the hot steam rising from room service plate covers to a chilly ripple at a joke about replacing a middle-aged wife. As a fitting homage to the 1930s film, we can buy the silly story (a theatre actor chartering a private jet). This has been scooping up awards since it opened three years ago and they are utterly deserved. It turns out they do make them like this anymore.

Runs until Saturday, September 20. Box Office: 08448-11 21 21 or theatreroyal.co.uk

Sarah Scott