One of the earliest jukebox musicals has returned to the West End. When the show opened in 2002 the author, Ben Elton, plugged his production on TV chat shows with a wisecracking slogan: ‘We Will Rock You isn’t just a title… it’s a promise.’

The easy-listening storyline draws inspiration from the Old Testament and from Mad Max. We’re in a dystopian future world ruled by faceless corporations that sell mass-produced garbage to zombified youngsters addicted to their mobile phones. A tribe of exiles, the Bohemians, roam the underworld in search of the relics of a vanished culture known as ‘rock’n’roll’. The Bohemians meet a visionary outcast, Galileo, who recites song lyrics that the Bohemians recognise as vestiges of the ‘sacred texts’ that they worship. Galileo leads the search for a holy axe, or guitar, buried in the wilderness that has the power to revive the spirit of rock music.

A timely message nestles within this schmaltzy plot. Today’s youth are brain-dead puppets controlled by international conglomerates that crush their spirits and nullify their desire for freedom. Rock’n’roll is their final hope because it’s the ultimate expression of human liberty. Like the best musicals, this show has the atmosphere of a joyous religious service. Ian McIntosh (Galileo) is a bit too chisel-jawed and dashing for his nerdy role. He has a girlfriend, Scaramouche, played by newcomer Elena Skye. Her slight figure and babyish complexion leave you unprepared for a voice that’s big enough to fill the Grand Canyon. She’s surpassed by Christine Allado (Meat) whose divine looks and astonishing vocal power will knock the chardonnay clean out of your plastic cup. The Rebel Leader is played by Elton himself who doesn’t even pretend to act. He’s enjoying himself. Deservedly so.

The show was panned by the critics when it opened in 2002 but just 15 months later, and with two sister productions playing in Spain and Australia, the millionth ticket was sold. Elton updates his lines to include a dig at the misplaced contempt of the reviewers who rubbished his show two decades ago. But to perform this detour he has to include the musical itself among the half-remembered fragments of the rock’n’roll culture treasured by the Bohemians. It’s a clever, surreal wheeze. Not many commentators are ready to admit that Elton has a prodigious and subtle intellect, which he chooses to conceal behind a façade of lairy blokeishness and knob gags.

The press-night show was graced by the presence of Brian May who rose up through a hole in the stage, like an automatic parking bollard, wreathed in wisps of smoke as he thrashed out the tooth-melting solo from ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Many in the crowd didn’t watch this unique moment because they were too busy recording it on their phones (thus affirming a key premise of the storyline). Normally, playgoers are prevented from filming stage shows but the producers opted to relax the rules this time. Wise move. Those clips, shared on social media, are worth a fortune in free publicity. Hats off to Ben Elton. He’s a marketing genius.

Dedication opens with Roger Peltzman, an American aged 62, seated at a piano and recounting his experiences as a classically trained musician who earned spare cash playing the blues in nightclubs. From childhood, he’d always known that his late uncle, Norbert Stern, had been one of Europe’s most gifted young pianists. ‘The next Rubenstein’ was the prediction of a leading music critic. And naturally Peltzman wanted to honour whatever part of Norbert’s talent he had inherited. But has anyone heard of Norbert Stern? In 1944, he was transported to Auschwitz from his home town of Brussels and sent to ‘the infirmary’ on his third day at the death camp. History yields no further details about his life.

Peltzman’s monologue develops into a harrowing account of Norbert and his remarkable sister, Peltzman’s mother, who escaped from the Nazis almost by a miracle. Her story sounds exactly like Anne Frank’s but with a happy ending. While hiding in a Brussels attic, she heard the Germans searching the rooms below and she managed to squeeze out through a bathroom window. After spending the night on a snowy rooftop she was taken in by a friendly neighbour who handed her over to a convent that sheltered Jewish fugitives. Disguised as a nun, she survived the war and emigrated to America. She never saw her brother again.

In the 1990s, Peltzman returned to Brussels and found the neighbour who had saved his mother’s life. In the same house he discovered the piano that Uncle Norbert had practised on and after kissing the keys he sat down to play. He says he sensed the presence of his uncle’s spirit as he performed a piece by Chopin. An amazing story told with charm, humour and wisdom. And what a theme: the power of music to conquer death.