Let’s cut straight to what mattered most. On the Cardiff opening night of her 50-odd-date Sticky & Sweet tour, Madonna looked amazing — and not just for a semi-centenarian gym addict with access to the best beauticians.

When she pole-danced atop a DJ booth and out-double-dutch-skipped her dancers during a riotous, electrofied Into the Groove, she could have passed for 25. When she put on white-plastic, heart-shaped shades — by Moschino, but a pair could be found in a seaside resort for a couple of quid — she had the air of a carefree teenager. Later, admittedly, wearing an ill-fitting wig, there was a hint of the transvestite about her, but a woman with bulging biceps and thoroughbred thighs always runs that risk.

Fashion-wise, she was more on the money than she has been in years. The Givenchy leotard in which she arrived, while writhing around a throne, came complete with cane, fishnets and knee-high boots, and must have sent a shiver through every kid in the crowd with a middle-aged mother. Fifteen years ago, Cher had the same effect. Yet when Madonna ditched the S&M-inspired attire to switch to sweats and silky boxing shorts with high-knee socks, she looked more comfortable but way cooler. Yes, it was a throwback to her New York dance days, but the current fad for casual 1980s fashion gave the outfits a fun, contemporary feel.

Madonna might even have got away with an extrovert gypsy get-up had it not been for the shimmery, outsized shoulder pads that recalled Gary Glitter.

Still, there was musical muscle in the Gogol Bordello-style segment. Backed by sawing fiddles, accordion, a bloke on washboard and flamenco guitarists, Madonna vamped up the Evita ballad You Must Love Me and turned La Isla Bonita into a Spanish stompalong.

A barrage of tracks from her current album, Hard Candy, often struggled, despite the distraction of big-budget props, including a boxing ring that emerged from the floor, a waterfall that cascaded around a podium-dancing Madonna, and a Cadillac driven down a walkway. Opener Candy Shop was anonymous electro-pop, while Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You was notable only for the absolute absence of a tune. She’s Not Me, however, was surprisingly tasty techno, during which Madonna defrocked female dancers and dressed as herself from the past.

A magnificent 4 Minutes would have had fans on their feet without snazzy screens-on-wheels showing multiple, gyrating Justin Timberlakes.

Madonna was least convincing when she grabbed a guitar for a rock remake of Borderline and a dreadful Ray of Light marred by shrill, brittle vocals that surfaced sporadically throughout the 90-minute set. She even spoilt Hung Out with faux metal guitarist antics that set women in rock back about eight years.

Madonna’s problem perhaps is her overpowering personality — she didn’t inhabit different characters, she smothered them. Forget the silly video footage from the likes of Kanye West and Britney locked in a lift. The closest any prop came to eclipsing her was a pair of 40ft-high, flashing, M-emblazoned curtains, allegedly encrusted with diamanté worth $1m. But even they couldn’t hold the limelight for long.

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