Knowing the Congress Theatre's zeal for punishing amplification in musicals, I was expecting this to be more a Return To The Forbidding Planet.

Well, of course, it is very loud but from the first filmed appearance of Patrick Moore as some kind of topper and tailer of the plot, you are drawn into the completely off-the-wall experience of Bob Carlton's zany take on Shakespeare's The Tempest and Fifties Hollywood sci-fi.

The musical won an Olivier award in 1990 and was something of a trailblazer in wrapping a plot around a joyous selection box of rock 'n' roll classics.

The story, replete with corny gags and identifiable (and tantalisingly near-recognisable) Shakespearean couplets, is of the Rocky Horror Show cult-ironical variety.

A spaceship is wrecked on a mysterious planet where the mad scientist, Dr Prospero, with his comely daughter, Miranda, and a soppy well-meaning robotic named Ariel magic up trials aplenty for Captain Tempest and his hapless crew.

The show hasn't yet quite reached the status where half the audience dress as characters and call out the lines before they are delivered but give it time.

The songs, of course, are everything. They are performed with considerable musical polish as well as high-octane enthusiasm. You will go a long way to find as hard-working a cast in theatre today.

Heaven knows how many times they have been All Shook Up as a Teenager In Love knowing This Is A Man's World and learning Who's Sorry Now but there isn't a whiff of anything stale in their planetary atmosphere.

Great Balls Of Fire comes with a giant rubber ball for the punters to bounce around the auditorium - and what fun they have.

She's Not Here generated a tangible sexual frisson and the Good Vibrations were, well, very good indeed.

Phil Reed's Cookie, Ian Conningham's Tempest and Fredrick Ruth's cuddly Ariel should be singled out for any special intergalactic awards going.

This show is destined to be a classic and should already be seen as a challenge to all the poor teachers who have to introduce Shakespeare with nothing more than a dog-eared paperback text.

For tickets, call 01323 412000.

Review by David Wilkins, features@theargus.co.uk