Tommy is going along quite nicely until the first time Jonathan Wilkes appears on stage. There's an energetic wartime prologue, which ends with Captain Walker's parachute being folded up and put in the laundry basket by Mrs Walker back in England . There's the memorable moment where Captain Walker shoots dead Mrs Walker's lover, watched in the mirror by 4-year-old Tommy.

And then Wilkes enters. And it becomes clear this isn't a production of Tommy as much as a vehicle for Wilkes. And it becomes hard to distinguish where Tommy the character stops and where Wilkes begins. One could hazard a guess that it did not require much for Wilkes to get into character: his Tommy is created firmly in his own image. In fact, there is so much preening and pouting it makes you wonder, when Wilkes launches into yet another rendition of “See me, feel me, touch me”, if he's slipped out of his role and is singing about himself.

The casting of Wilkes also lends a bitter irony to the scene where Tommy explains to his obsessed followers that rather than they wanting to be more like him, actually he's been trying his whole life to be more like them. Coming from a man who seems to have made a career out of being famous, these words ring somewhat hollow.

In spite of his Messianic tendencies, Wilkes is a competent performer. He is an engaging showman and certainly knows how to play to a crowd. It could be argued that his casting was deliberately designed to personify the level of celebrity Tommy achieves. If this is the case, it is unfortunate that his presence serves to draw focus away from the rest of the show.

Wilkes' posturing certainly contrasts sharply with the somber performance of Brian Joseph McCann as (an adult) 10-year-old Tommy. McCann stares straight ahead, impassive and not reacting, adding a solemn gravitas to a glitzy production. Even though he towers above both his parents, he is a credible “deaf, dumb and blind kid”.

It's a credit to The Who 's innovation that the music still sounds fresh today. This is no nostalgia-wallowing retro piece, but a contemporary production, even though a Wilkes-led sing-a-long of Pinball Wizard at the end allows the audience to shamelessly indulge.

And indulge it does, seduced by celebrity in a show that asks serious questions about the cult of celebrity.