"Guys and Dolls". The Queen's College garden

The pre-show email from Guys and Dolls advises audience members to wrap up warm. Summer has come late to Oxford this year, and sitting in a college garden, motionless, for hours after the sun has set is not everyone's idea of a good night out. In other words (as Miss Adelaide might put it), just from sitting and watching a garden production unfold, a person can get very cold.

Accordingly, I turned up at Queen's with merino gloves and a battery-powered, centrally-heated gilet. But I didn't need them. This joyful production radiates warmth from start to finish, and if anyone does get chilly, there are ample opportunities to clap your hands, as every number in Burrows' and Swerling's immortal musical about crapshooters and Save-a-Soul evangelists  falling in love is a whoop-inducing showstopper. 

The opening song, I Got the Horse Right Here, starts with the traditional bugle fanfare Call to the Post, a sound which still begins every horse race in the USA. But in Guys and Dolls it means something more: it heralds a story in which everyone, not just the illegal gamblers, bets for their heart's desire. Even the pious Sarah Brown gives her mark to General Cartwright, fearsome leader of her mission. Damon Runyan was interested in the sanctity of human imperfection, and it's that forgiveness, that willingness to bend, that gives his story such irresistible appeal.

The annual Queen's show from Eglesfield Musical Society has become, over the last few years, the gold standard for garden musicals. Last year's Fiddler on the Roof, and 2024's Into the Woods, were standout productions, notable for lavish sets, great performances and faultless musicianship.

Guys and Dolls, if anything, raises the bar even higher. 

The singing isn't just in tune; it crackles with character. The music isn't just in time; it's perfectly balanced in volume with the actors, stylishly conducted with a spring in its metaphorical step, and performed by an orchestra in permanent view of the audience, which only adds to the sense of  live thrill sweeping off the stage.

And lest we forget, musicals are meant to be really tough to mount. In the West End, performers don't even get near the stage door unless they're trained dancers and singers. So how can a bunch of Oxford students put on such a near-professional show while holding down full-time undergraduate degree courses?

OK, the dancing may not be quite what you'd expect at the London Palladium. The cast aren't flying somersaults over each other's heads. But Josh Redfern's choreography is striking, athletic and gorgeous to watch. And it captures that sense of busy street scenes, with passers-by all part of the action, that is so crucial to this show.

And the singing is simply remarkable. From the opening number, a round sung by three voices with three separate tunes, to the multi-voice harmonies of the title track itself, the cast delivers as good a rendition as I've seen in any professional production.

Toby Agerbak as Sky Masterson can certainly outsing Marlon Brando, and his duets with Ellen Taylor as Sarah Brown (who hits all the high notes like Luke Littler hitting a double ten) are some of the most romantic, lyrical parts of the evening.

George Fothergill as grandfather Abernathy turns what is usually the most forgettable song of the show More I Cannot Wish You into one of its high points. It's so refreshing to hear it sung by a young, clear voice instead of the usual gruff mumbling that an elderly character actor manages.

Nicely Nicely Johnson - normally played as a comedy fat guy with a scratchy tenor - is reborn in the shape of James Pearson as a mellifluous, Puck-like huckster, whose rendition of Sit Down You're Rocking the Boat is (was, and always will be) the moment that draws the biggest cheers from the audience. The song gels the company into a gospel choir of sinners, reaching both for a thousand bucks and redemption. And that's what it's all about.

George Robson, the put-upon Nathan Detroit at the heart of the action, reveals more talent with every creative endeavour. In the past he's acted and made some stunning films. Who knew he could sing too? Well, now we all do.

I could go on. I could mention Harold Greenfields as Big Jule, the comedy tough guy from Chicago. His voice sounds as if it's made of radioactive gravel, and his attempt at penitence ('Oi'm really sawrry') gets one of the biggest laughs of the show. I could mention the fizzing ball of energy that is Esme Dannatt as Harry the Horse. She plays multiple roles, from a Hot Box (how did they get away with that name?) dancer to a Cuban waitress, and her effervescence embodies everything that makes this production great. I could even mention the costumes, of which there are many for each actor. They don't just drive the scenes along, they tell you that money has spent on this show, and spent wisely.

But Guys and Dolls needs one thing above all else, and that's a great Miss Adelaide, Nathan's long-suffering fiancée. And in Graciela Blandon it has an Adelaide for the ages. Sashaying somewhere between pantomime dame and pop diva, she is larger than life, and bubbles with charisma. Her voice, a Noo Yoik shriek straight out of 1950, is an intoxicating cocktail of Lina Lamont (from Singin' in the Rain) and Eunice Burns (from What's Up, Doc?). She sings at least four numbers in the show, and even gives us our own extra interval entertainment, with a blistering solo performance of two Cole Porter classics, My Heart Belongs to Daddy and That's Why the Lady is a Tramp - both of them overflowing with deliciously camp innuendo that would make Charli XCX blush.

I'm calling it. This summer is the greatest term of theatre in Oxford since Covid. From harrowing drama to boisterous comedy, from Shakespeare to musicals, student drama is nailing it every single time. Guys and Dolls is a feast. Tuck in.