Aladdin

It doesn't take long into the opening number of Aladdin before the discomfort settles in. Here, on stage at the Capitol, in a tableau of brightly coloured harem pants and woven carpets is a camp, all singing, all dancing evocation of a culture that the western world has been demonising for years.

Aladdin's home of Agrabah may be a fictional place, but the bad hummus and tabouli puns and Tom, Dick and Hussein jokes ring a little hollow in the wake of this week's real-life news stories about the way we treat people from that part of the world who seek sanctuary.

Once you get past the glaring lack of self-awareness there are dazzling theatre tricks, a set that stuns and a larger-than-life performance from Michael James Scott as the cheeky, mischievous Genie. The show's highlight, Friend Like Me, when Genie introduces himself to his new master — Ainsley Melham's dreamy Aladdin — is a masterful display of theatre design and performance, from the dazzling gold cave and the pyrotechnics to Scott's quips and rather impressive dancing.

Unfortunately, Arielle Jacobs — a bejewelled Jasmine — gets very little to do, much like all the female members of the chorus, who spend most of the show prancing around in costumes seemingly straight from Vegas Showgirls-R-Us.

Disney has long been under scrutiny for the way they co-opt and depict women and other cultures. This show is a jarring reminder that they still have a long way to go.