On stage, all the ingredients are there. A stacked cast, sharp choreography and lush costumes, all built around a set that was always going to feel functional rather than exciting. It is a shoe factory. There is only so much you can do.

For all that polish, Kinky Boots never quite works as a piece of musical theatre. This has nothing to do with Johannes Radebe, who is a phenomenal Lola. If anything, the attention on his casting distracts from the real issue, a book, score and set of lyrics that feel unfocused and dramatically inert.

The show circles itself. It leans heavily on songs about making shoes and repeatedly tells the audience what is happening rather than allowing the story to unfold. Character arcs do not develop so much as arrive. Despite the efforts of a committed cast, they feel flat and unearned. When Charlie Price’s fiancée leaves him for a real estate agent and a pair of high heels, the moment lands without consequence. There is no sense of loss, only a quiet relief.

The plot is simple, but stretched thin. A son inherits a failing factory. His fiancée pushes for redevelopment. The stakes remain unclear and the motivations never fully settle. Subplots, particularly the familiar shift from prejudice to acceptance, are rushed and underdeveloped. Charlie’s anger appears suddenly and disappears just as quickly, while key turning points pass without weight. Even the Milan climax undercuts itself before resolving into a finale that feels disconnected from everything that came before.

Structurally, it becomes repetitive. The score recaps the narrative so frequently it removes any sense of progression, leaving little room for tension or discovery. Wherever you enter the show, the emotional stakes feel unchanged.

There are glimpses of something stronger. A handful of moments land with genuine impact, both visually and emotionally, and briefly suggest the show it might have been. They are not enough to carry what surrounds them.

By comparison, The Devil Wears Prada, playing just down the road, is equally superficial but at least understands its own purpose as entertainment. Kinky Boots never settles on what it wants to be.

At the London Coliseum, the production scales well to the size of the stage, even if some staging choices create frustrating sightline issues. It remains a comfortable venue to sit in, which is not insignificant given the show’s length.

The cast never let the energy drop. Having once worked with one of the swings, it was a genuine pleasure to see that commitment up close. It is that effort, more than anything in the material itself, that keeps the production moving.