When West Side Story made its debut in 1957, its creators - Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein, Arthur Laurents, Stephen Sondheim - knew they were creating a musical for their time. A retelling of Romeo and Juliet filtered through the gang warfare of New York's slums, their landmark collaboration tapped into the dangerous energy of Manhattan's mean streets. How extraordinary, then, to find it speaking to us so profoundly today. At a time when London's youth is gripped by the spectre of knife crime West Side Story's depiction of young violent males and deadly gang rivalry has a chilling contemporary resonance.

The show arrived in the West End in 1958 and this is its 50th anniversary staging. Joey McKneely's production is an authentic period piece, but driven by strong emotions that know no time or place. Paul Gallis designs a stage dominated by huge tenement fire escapes that, ironically, suggest escape when in fact there would seem no such possibility for a cast trapped in the claustrophobic underbelly of the urban jungle. Despite the grimness of their surroundings, Tony, the all- American boy, and Maria, the Puerto Rican immigrant, share a belief in a future where they can be together away from the opposing forces who would separate them. Those forces are the Jets (the white American kids) and the Sharks (the Puerto Ricans), gangs whose animosity is fed by racist abuse and too much sudden random energy. The excellent ensemble cast, mostly North American, make you feel the threat of their bitter hatred.

West Side Story is Broadway's greatest dance musical and Robbins's choreography is at its heart, with so much of the plot's intention and focus revealed through the acerbic and edgy movement. Its brawling, pugilistic momentum, which leads inexorably to gang rape and murder, is delivered with an almost military precision, while Robbins's dream ballet offers a stunning contrast with its halcyon vision of happiness for Tony and Maria. Bernstein's score, conducted vigorously by Donald Chan, still scintillates, be it the soaring love melodies (Tonight, Somewhere, There's a Place for Us, Maria) or the sassy raw posturing of youth (Gee, Officer Krupke), though it's a shame that some rapid-fire lyrics are hard to hear, especially in America, Sondheim's wonderfully sour dissection of the American Dream.

The first-night cast was outstanding. Ryan Silverman is enormously appealing as Tony, a decent guy caught up in a turf war he thought he had left behind. Silverman is a passionate actor and truly charismatic singer whose big voice and even bigger heart are a dreamy combination. Sofia Escobar, as Maria, has a pure, sweet voice and a tender faith in Tony, even after he kills her brother. As her friend Anita, Lana Gordon dazzles as the proud Latina fighting to find her way, though her voice is too metallic to my ears. In the end, they all bring to life most vividly the big question of this show - what is the legacy of mindless violence? - a question we ask every time another London teenager is killed.

Box office: 0844 4124322, to Aug 31

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