Some might say this is an unfair comparison but I will make it anyway. Not long before this revival of Grease opened in the West End, Oklahoma opened across town at the Young Vic.

Daniel Fish’s St Anne’s Warehouse production of Oklahoma is brilliant because it confounds every expectation of those who know of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s classic.

Nikolai Foster’s Leicester Curve production of Grease is awful mostly because it conforms to every expectation.

It is fine that this show wants us to revel in the nostalgia rush of Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey’s excellent score: Summer Nights, Grease is the Word and You’re the One That I Want. But the bad boy meets good girl story?

It centres on Sandy (Olivier Moore), who is clever, and Danny (Dan Partridge), who is not. She fell for him and he for her during the holidays before high school term (and this show) started.

But it turns out Danny is not only vain, he is willing to hurt the feelings of Sandy or anyone else if it means preserving his reputation among his fellow leather-jacketed meatheads. So, do Sandy’s virtues, which are mainly working hard and meaningful life, win the day?

No they do not. She ditches whatever principles led her to reject Danny and then submits to his tiny worldview by dressing up in leather and becoming his girlfriend.

None of this is to say chauvinistic shows should not be revived. But to embrace the bigotry instead of subverting it is a dereliction of artistic duty.

Meanwhile, the show’s numbers — performed with more volume than conviction — serve as oases as the plot stumbles along and often gets lost in this cavernous theatre’s hard-to-fill space.

Paul French as Kenickie (centre) and the company in GREASE, credit Manuel Harlan

Paul French as Kenickie (centre)

Peter Andre is a pleasing presence, but also the victim of unintentional laughter. He plays hip-swivelling DJ Vince Fontaine, a West End debut that was upstaged before opening night by the Wagatha Christy trial at the High Court when Rebekah Vardy’s reported “chipolata” comments about the former pop star were read out.

On press night, titters rippled through the auditorium in the scene where Andre’s Vince declares the start of the dance competition with the line: “The moment you’ve been waiting for, the big one!” Perhaps they will cut it.

There is one bright aspect to report about this lacklustre show. Her name is Jocasta Almgill, who plays Rizzo. In the 1978 movie this was the role Stockard Channing turned into an inspiration for young women wanting to escape peer pressure and the expectations placed on young women to submit to male chauvinism.

Here Almgill sings brilliantly. Though, alas, not brilliantly enough to prevent Sandy from being Danny’s “chick”.