There are some theatre productions that entertain you for an evening.

Then there are those rare performances that stay with you long after the curtain has fallen.

For my son Ben and me, Jersey Boys was very much the latter.

There is always something special about an opening night.

The anticipation, the excitement and the feeling that everyone in the audience is about to experience something together for the first time. Walking into the Bristol Hippodrome on Monday evening, July 6, I thought I knew exactly what to expect – a nostalgic celebration of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons.

Within minutes, I realised just how wrong I was.

The opening came as a real surprise.

Instead of the nostalgic start I had expected, the cast launched into a high-energy contemporary opening with a rap-style feel opening that immediately caught the audience off guard.

Looking around the packed auditorium, I could see I wasn't the only one raising an eyebrow.

Then something wonderful happened.

Smiles spread across faces, people started clapping along and the whole theatre came alive.

It was bold, clever and full of energy, and from that moment on I knew we were in for something special.

Joining me was Ben, who at 29 was among the younger members of the audience.

I was curious to see whether a story rooted in the 1950s and 60s would resonate with someone from a different generation.

As it turned out, he loved it just as much as I did.

For anyone unfamiliar with the musical, Jersey Boys tells the remarkable true story of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons.

It follows four working-class young men from the streets of New Jersey as they chase their dream of musical success.

Alongside some of the most recognisable songs ever written, we witness lifelong friendships, extraordinary success, organised crime connections, financial struggles, heartbreak and the personal sacrifices that came with becoming one of the biggest groups of their generation.

One of the things I loved most was the way the story was told.

Rather than following a conventional timeline, the musical is cleverly divided into four 'seasons', with each chapter narrated by one of the band members.

Seeing the story unfold through four different perspectives allows the audience to understand not only what happened, but how differently each member remembers the story.

It gives every character a distinct voice and ensures they become far more than simply members of a famous band.

Carlo Boumouglbay is superb as Tommy DeVito, swaggering onto the stage with confidence, humour and just enough gangster edge to make you understand why the others followed him. He's charismatic, impulsive and frustrating in equal measure, yet never becomes a caricature.

Luke Baker has perhaps the toughest challenge of the evening. Frankie Valli's voice is one of the most distinctive in music history, and audiences know exactly how those songs should sound.

Thankfully, Baker doesn't try to impersonate Frankie Valli. Instead, he captures everything that made Frankie Valli so distinctive, from the astonishing falsetto to the vulnerability behind the superstar. Ben and I genuinely felt transported back in time.

Toby Miles brings warmth, intelligence and quiet authority to songwriter Bob Gaudio, while Lewis Kennedy gives Nick Massi a wonderfully understated performance full of dry humour and quiet wisdom. Nick quietly became one of my favourite characters, often acting as the calm centre of a group whose personalities regularly threatened to collide.

What impressed me most wasn't simply the quality of the individual performances – it was the chemistry between all four leads. They genuinely convinced you they had spent years growing up together, laughing together, arguing together and ultimately building something extraordinary.

The supporting cast add so much to the production. Michael Levi is a joy to watch as the wonderfully eccentric producer Bob Crewe, drawing laughs every time he appears. Aiden Carson also brings plenty of humour as Joey Pesci, with his cheeky charm earning plenty of laughs from the audience. Mary Delgado, who later becomes Frankie's wife, also brought several funny moments, while Artemis Chrisoulakis gave a touching performance as Francine, adding real emotion to one of the show's most poignant storylines.

During the interval, Ben and I realised we hadn't just been talking about the songs. We were talking about the staging, the lighting, the choreography and just how slick the whole production was. That, for me, says everything about the quality of this show.

The split-level stage is exceptionally clever. While the action unfolds below, imaginative projections across the upper stage transport us effortlessly from one location to the next. I particularly loved the comic-book style illustrations, especially the larger-than-life caricature of the policeman, which added another layer of humour while helping tell the story. Combined with the seamless movement of furniture and props, the whole production flowed so naturally that it wasn't until the interval Ben and I realised we hadn't consciously noticed a single scene change all evening.

One sequence, using a live black-and-white camera feed projected above the stage, was particularly memorable. Watching the band perform as audiences would have seen them on television in the 1960s was a wonderfully inventive theatrical touch.

The choreography deserves equal praise. Every movement felt purposeful, from the perfectly synchronised performances of The Four Seasons to the energy and precision of the ensemble. The routines captured the style and swagger of the era while still feeling fresh, and the cast moved around the stage with effortless confidence. It looked completely natural, but the precision behind it was remarkable.

The lighting design was equally impressive. It wasn't simply there to illuminate the stage – it became another storyteller. A dramatic wash of red heightened one pivotal moment, creating an immediate sense of danger and tension. In complete contrast, the scenes surrounding Francine were lit with remarkable sensitivity.

A simple white bench, softly illuminated against the darkness, created an almost ethereal quality that allowed the emotion of the moment to speak for itself. It was understated, beautiful and one of the evening's most memorable images.

At other moments, the stage exploded into full concert mode, with banks of dazzling lights recreating the excitement and spectacle of a live arena performance.