An American in Paris, Dominion Theatre, London, review: Leanne Cope as Lise can go from wide-eyed to slinky in one bright glance

Christopher Wheeldon’s An American in Paris is a whirl of colour and imagery, a fantasy Paris rooted to a specific historical moment. Based on the 1951 Gene Kelly film, the stage musical reframes the romance as a dream of postwar optimism, while dancing through the wonders of the Gershwin back catalogue.

It opens with the 1945 liberation of Paris, projected swastikas replaced by the Tricolor. Designer Bob Crowley uses flats and video imagery by 59 Projections to conjure the variety of the city: real boats float in the digital waters of the Seine. In a nod to the paintings evoked by Kelly’s movie ballet, the opening number shows Paris as seen by the hero, GI-turned-artist Jerry Mulligan. Exhausted citizens form bread queues in a pen-and-ink world that resolves into a hopeful dawn of glowing, impressionist colour.

The war hangs over the characters in Craig Lucas’s new book. Paris is recovering from occupation, with habits of secrecy and accusations of collaboration; the Americans have their own wounds, but can still be clumsily ignorant of what civilians went through. Lucas works to make the heroine, Lise, more than the hero’s dream enigma. Her remoteness becomes an attempt to protect herself, while her ballerina ambitions are now central to the plot. Milo, the rich American patroness who falls for Jerry, has an expanded role, financing the ballet that will give Lise her big break.

Wheeldon, a ballet choreographer who made his Broadway directing debut with this production, puts dance at the heart of the production – not just in the big numbers, but weaving through the action. As Lise, the Royal Ballet-trained Leanne Cope is a vivid presence; she can go from wide-eyed to slinky in one bright glance. In her audition scene, Wheeldon highlights her flowing line with curling steps that show why she stands out.

New York City Ballet’s Robert Fairchild combines soaring ballet steps with jazzy Broadway attack. He sings cleanly, but it’s his dancing that suggests more heart beneath the all-American charm. In a strong supporting cast, Zoë Rainey is a splendid Milo, luxuriating in both the character’s comedy and authority. Jane Asher is witty as the French grande dame Mme Baurel.

If Americans have a fantasy Paris, Parisians have a fantasy New York. Haydn Oakley’s Henri Baurel dreams of being a song and dance man, his shy cabaret tryout becoming an ecstatic art deco vision of Radio City Music Hall, complete with feathered chorus girls.