Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens, The Venue, London

This musical blend of the polymorphous perversity of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the rock'n'roll sci-fi of Return to the Forbidden Planet and the disco of, er, disco has always worked best in the clubbier venues; the last time it played the West End, at the Queen's Theatre in 1998, you could feel the industrious effort pour off the stage in waves, like the dry ice it periodically deployed.

In contrast, the converted church crypt off Leicester Square that is The Venue has a zone of table seating round which the performers can prowl while we cowards skulk in the ranks of folding-plastic-bucket seats further back. The director Michael Fidler uses the whole space well, even daring to leave the corpse of Chesty Prospects, stabbed through the heart with a sequined slingback, in the middle of the auditorium at the interval before bringing her off in the second act.

That gives a fair idea of the plot: camp serial killer in intergalactic clip-joint, patrolled by lamé-wearing amazons; love, death, showbiz and bubble-wrap fetish. It is obviously an attempt to write a successor to Richard O'Brien's "don't dream it, be it" sensation, and thus sets itself high standards. This time out, it damned near meets them.

Scott Baker is a pudgy, arch Saucy Jack whose image and manner form an agreeable contrast with his later villainy. As head Vixen Jubilee Climax, Faye Tozer knows exactly the kind of campery to provide while ably belting out her numbers: her stint in the manufactured pop group Steps trained her in showmanship rather than dramatic subtlety, just as the show requires.

The decision to use a pre- recorded score has its benefits in big-blast numbers such as "Glitter Boots Saved My Life" and Jubilee's big power ballad "Living In Hell" but the show would gain from having at least a core band playing live.

Despite this and its derivativeness, I found myself surprisingly seduced. As long as the Prince Charles cinema next door does not hold a campalong screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show during the run

Tel 0870 899 3335