WHEN Cole Porter wrote Anything Goes in 1934, the plot for a musical was little more than a sagging clothes line with the songs hung on it. No surprise, then, that latecomers to the opening night for the West End transfer of Trevor Nunn’s National Theatre revival were ushered in not during the songs but the plot scenes.

Quite right when those numbers include I Get a Kick Out of You, You’re the Top and Anything Goes. Even though Nunn uses an Eighties revamp (snappier wisecracks, songs from other Porter shows), the plot remains an idiotic mix of mismatched couples, ludicrous disguises, tipsy tycoons, even a maligned mutt, punctuated by moments of moonlit romance.

You can almost forgive the storyline’s unsophisticated dottiness when it not only accommodates the verbal and musical wit of vintage Porter but also such lesser-known delights as The Gypsy in Me, in which a silly-ass English lord reveals his hidden passions in a tango. But these are second-act pleasures. The first half lacks a screwball pace and you are sometimes left admiring John Gunter’s revolving, three-tier cruise-ship set and Anthony Powell’s costumes straight out of Thirties Vogue.

It takes the Act I finale of the title song, showcasing Stephen Mear’s superb ensemble choreography, to achieve the carefree fizz of a musical that, despite being written in the Thirties, has the spirit of the roaring Twenties.

Once Sally Ann Triplett’s nightclub singer and evangelist Reno Sweeney lets rip with the mock Bible-belter Blow, Gabriel, Blow, it’s full steam ahead. Delightful teeth-and-smiles performances in keeping with the frothy material abound, from Triplett’s feisty Reno to the clean-cut John Barrowman as the stowaway in pursuit of Mary Stockley’s sweet debutante.

The show also boasts several scene-stealers, including a hilarious Simon Day as the tangoing toff missing a Jeeves (P. G. Wodehouse, one of the show’s original writers, would be proud), Martin Marquez turning comic corn into comic gold as a gravel-voiced mobster disguised as a cleric, and Annette McLaughlin as his lanky, sailor-mad moll. The late Denis Quilley did the same as a boozy millionaire at the National last year and it is fitting that Tuesday’s performance was dedicated to him.

Yet the production is at its best with the full-company numbers showing everyone hoofing like troupers. And all credit to Nunn for treating the material as the tap-dancing, high-kicking fluff that it is. The cast seem to enjoy themselves more as the show progresses and you will too.

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