Backbeat

Anyone who has seen Iain Softley's film about the early years of The Beatles will know more or less what to expect from his new stage adaptation, which is receiving its world premiere at the Citz.

The posters may show the band as they have become immortalised, suited and booted (albeit with Pete Best rather than Ringo), but the action of the show takes place before those heady days, and indeed before they began performing the original songs that are their legacy.

The soundtrack of the show is, therefore, one of American rock 'n' roll standards, and the actors taking the roles of John, Paul, George, Pete and 'fifth Beatle' Stuart Sutcliffe are effectively covering a covers band, and in doing so are charged with capturing the spirit that inspired a loyal following before the Fab Four had played a bar of their own material.

It's quite a tall order, but if the band's vocals aren't always quite up to the challenge – notably on Twist and Shout – their raw energy and enthusiasm just about compensates. A talented 14-strong cast and Softley's sophisticated direction make this a fun night out, and Christopher Oram's set and costumes vividly capture a spirit of a time and place, but there's arguably quite a leap between the adoration of a handful of groupies conveyed and the beginnings of full-blown Beatlemania.

While the Saturday night crowd had a ball, the show is in some ways a bit of a tease (and as Andrew Knott's prickly John snaps at Daniel Healy's beleaguered Paul, “who wants to be teased?”). The audience knows that Lennon's predictions of global superstardom were to prove accurate, but also that Sutcliffe died of a brain haemorrhage not longer after he chose German girlfriend Astrid over the band, and this awareness casts his decision – which to Lennon seemed so momentous – in an altogether different light.

Unlike McCartney, Lennon isn't around to complain about his portrayal in Backbeat, which is probably just as well because it is far from sympathetic. A sustained assault of wise-cracks and not-so-wise insults is eventually punctuated by a release of emotions in a disarmingly moving scene between Knott and Isabela Calthorphe's saintly Astrid, which offers a brief glimpse into the troubled soul of the band's driving force.