The War of The Worlds

In what turns out to be rather a risky strategy, composer Jeff Wayne gives us his mission statement in the front of the souvenir programme. ‘I can only hope that you will feel we have produced something emotional, unique and that you will have enjoyed being immersed in our world, The War Of The Worlds – alive on stage!’

I hate to be a party pooper, Jeff, but sorry, no, this turns out to be a bridge too far. The concept double album – as it was called back then – of War Of The Worlds was released in 1978. Based on the HG Wells classic, it sold squillions and has subsequently been performed in arenas up and down the land.

But Jeff has long had his heart set on a legitimate theatre production and, 38 years later, that’s what’s to be found at London’s cavernous Dominion Theatre, home for a decade to We Will Rock You, the celebration of rock band Queen. That’s worth mentioning, because there’s clearly an audience for an evening’s non-stop ear-battering.

I doubt they’ll be satisfied by this, though. Jeff is centre stage throughout conducting nine slick electric guitarists and a 13-strong, all-female string ensemble. Between them, they produce a wall of sound so deafening that Liam Neeson, a hologram of whom is frequently lowered onto the stage, is often inaudible.

It’s 1904 and he plays George Herbert, a journalist who lived through the Martian invasion, his younger alter ego (Michael Praed) stumbling about the stage in the onslaught of 1898. Quite why George has acquired a distinct Irish accent in the intervening six years is never made clear.

There are a couple of cracking songs, The Chances Of Anything Coming From Mars and Forever Autumn, but the undeniably starry cast is spread woefully thin. David Essex, the Voice of Humanity, no less, gets just the one number; a wildly overacting Jimmy Nail as Parson Nathaniel another; Daniel Bedingfield as The Artilleryman can’t act for toffee but hits some impressive falsetto notes.

Madalena Alberto and Heidi Range (formerly a Sugababe) look and sound pretty enough. The rest of the company spend their time running on from either wing, clutching their heads and running off again. The book and direction are thin to the point of anorexia, so it’s never more than a one-note affair. Albeit a very loud one.

Can’t make it up to London? Then pop on the CD , lie on the kitchen floor and hit your head with a saucepan for a couple of hours. You’ll achieve much the same result.

Until 30 April at the Dominion Theatre, London W1: 0845-200 7982, www.dominiontheatre.com