I have a confession to make. Three long years have passed since I last saw a musical – Lord of the Rings, to be precise. It was a disconcertingly inspired choice of my mother's, who was, at the time, rather smitten with the idea of nimble-footed, top-B-belting Orks. Yet last night I ventured into the Cambridge Arts Theatre in search of more uplifting musical matter, and – despite the initial predictability of the lone, trilby-wearing figure on stage as we filed into the auditorium (maybe it’s mandatory?) – this version of Guys and Dolls impressed.

It was a pleasure to see the original script’s humour and dynamism take centre stage, yet the characters’ deeper emotional complexities were far from neglected. Adelaide’s (Jenni Maitland) claim that the absence of an anniversary present from her fiancé of fourteen years doesn't bother her because it ‘makes [her] feel like [she’s] married’ was the best example: it not only garnered a deserved laugh, but nicely straddled the line between comedy and poignancy. This speech gathered momentum with a self-diagnosed psychosomatic illness attributed directly to her unmarried status – delivered with a frustratingly catchy song – but also with the complete fabrication of five children, so desperate is she for a sequin-free world of ‘wallpaper and bookends’. Maitland's brilliantly played disheartened showgirl, by turns saccharine and vulnerable, is at the continual mercy of her ‘cheap bum’ fiancé Nathan Detroit, played with a convincing swagger, yet a refreshing splash of self-doubt.

The most enjoyable scenes, however, involve the tambourine-toting 'Save a Soul' missionaries, whose eldest member in full regalia has more than a touch of Captain Birdseye about him. The mission’s church forms the brilliantly incongruous setting for the exuberant, gospel-inspired Sit Down You’re Rockin’ The Boat, for which the choreography, unlike other rather hat-reliant routines, was witty and captivating, as the most volatile gamblers and most pious Christian workers were brought together in a joyful cacophony of song and dance. The brassy bliss of Loesser’s eternally infectious score was well and truly honoured: Orks ain’t got nothing on these guys and dolls.

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