Theatre - The people's nanny soars, but not everyone takes off. By Michael Portillo Mary Poppins Prince Edward Theatre, London W1

The verdict of the audience is final. Mary Poppins, on the night I saw it, received not merely a standing but a cheering ovation. Not a single bottom in the full house remained on its seat as the delighted cast reprised the evening's catchiest numbers in a well-conceived curtain-call routine. Throughout the three-hour performance, tiny children remained transfixed, long after their normal bedtime.

In some ways, the reception was more than the production deserves. David Haig (the endearingly idiotic Bernard in Four Weddings and a Funeral) cannot sing a note and barks out the part of the children's father, Mr Banks, in Rex Harrison style. He redeems himself at the end with a short dance that recalls Ricky Gervais's gyrations in The Office. Much of this show's new song material has been written for Banks pere and it is indescribably turgid. One dirge, "Cherry Tree Lane", is repeatedly reprised almost to screaming point. The pace of the musical judders to a halt whenever the Banks parents hold the stage; and at the performance I saw, Sarah Keeton's vocal talent, singing the long-suffering wife, was sadly well matched to Haig's.

Overall, the choreography is disappointing for a production that bears the names of Matthew Bourne and Richard Eyre as director. In "Jolly Holiday" ("Every day's a holiday with Mary"), the dance moves are depressingly reminiscent of Dick van Dyke's quasi sailor's hornpipe in the 1964 film version. The ensemble dance with more enthusiasm than precision, something that regularly distinguishes the West End from Broadway, but I enjoyed the chorus line's quick moves as they used their bodies to spell out "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" in the manner that the Village People semaphore "YMCA".

To finish the list of gripes, some jokes are dreadfully laboured and the band plays too loudly for the singers and for the audience's enjoyment. A five-year-old next to me sat with her fingers in her ears throughout, and I would have imitated her had I not felt certain that it would land me in a diary column again.

But those things apart, this is a glorious piece of stagecraft. The set is lavish and beautiful. The Banks's house has been constructed in five layers with loving attention to detail. The huge sets drop beneath the stage or fly up into the tower or retreat upstage with silent precision. The show is full of magical effects. Mary produces from her carpet bag a hat stand, tall mirror, pot plant and electric lamp while the bag is sitting on an open-legged table. A fully grown man bursts out from a small doll's house. The kitchen collapses and puts itself back together. A full street market appears inside the park in the blink of an eye. It is all brilliantly done and has the audience whooping with pleasure.

The key to good magic is to distract the eye. This production has constant movement and bustle (at least when the dreary Mr and Mrs Banks are offstage). The colours are magnificent, and even the eponymous nanny appears in stunning hues. Bert briefly dons a stripy jacket in another tribute to the film. The sweeps appear in glitter in a pre-climax spectacular.

The most important thing to say in praise of Gavin Lee as Bert is that he is not Dick van Dyke. The Hollywood star's ludicrous marbles-in-the-mouth attempt at cockney is replaced with something that sounds as though it might originate in London, England. Lee sings well and has an attractive, long-legged dancing style. He executes splendidly a walk up the theatre walls and across the ceiling. The penguins that danced with Bert in the movie are replaced with park statues that come to life, and that seemed an improvement, too.

The children's parts are demanding. There is much to remember, timing and diction are critical, and the kids have to dance and sing throughout the show. There are five names listed for each of the two roles. I saw Charlotte Spencer, 13, and Harry Stott, nine, and thought them excellent. Also notable among the supporting cast is Rosemary Ashe as the demonic anti-nanny Miss Andrew.

That seemed an interesting choice of name given that the spirit of Julie Andrews hovers in the theatre in the role that she immortalised on celluloid. Laura Michelle Kelly cannot escape the comparison, but need not fear it, either. She makes a fine Poppins. Her accent is perfect and natural, her singing voice sweet and strong, and her vocal range faultless. She is pretty in a way that does not lessen her authority, and the tight-waist costumes of the period suit her figure. Poppins often arrives and departs by air, and Kelly flies with complete composure, umbrella open and held high, carpet bag held a little distance from the body so as to cast the emblematic shadow perfectly in the spotlight.

Mary's last departure takes her soaring out over the stalls and past the dress circle, and produced adulation in her audience. She deserved it.

Booking on 0870 850 9191 until September

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