The Sound of Music, Regent's Park Open Air Theatre As discreetly as I could, I slipped into the gents at work and changed out of my suit and into what looked like the outfit of a North Sea trawlerman. The general assumption was that I had finally been pushed over the edge, but there was a method to my madness. I have had a series of miserable, soggy, neuralgic nights at Regent's Park Open Air Theatre, and now, when I journey to this particular venue, I always dress for the worst. Outside, it was pouring torrentially, and, as my umbrella went up, my morale went down. Even for a fully-waterproofed old veteran like me, this looked like it was going to be a particularly long, hard night. It is all very well going to these open-air venues when it's hot and dry, but at times like these, it always feels like a deliberate act of self-harming. Even the Globe provides some measure of shelter, but Regent's Park offers none at all. In the event, a merciful God - and possibly a few prayers and rain dances from the director Rachel Kavanaugh - meant that the rain relented by the time The Sound of Music got under way. It is a rather splendid production, with a good nature and a sense of confidence and fun that could, I fancy, have lifted my spirits even in the middle of a perfect storm. The designer Peter McKintosh has fashioned a fine set of a big Italianate villa with a grand staircase that leads down to a tessellated patio. Maria, however, makes her big entrance from the back of the stalls, gingerly picking a pathway down the vertiginous arena, as she belts out The Hills are Alive. The sound system felt like it had been turned up a little too high at the start and the hand movements that the youthful Charlotte Wakefield made to accompany the words seemed a little too emphatic, but she seemed to grow in confidence with each step. It is hard to get Rodgers and Hammerstein's old musical badly wrong, but this show manages to communicate its life-enhancing spirit unusually well. It pays proper attention, too, to the story of nuns and Nazis and a principled old Austrian hero and his seven melodic children, to the extent it packs, on occasion, a genuine emotional punch. There are some weak links - Michael Xavier's bearded Captain von Trapp, for instance, looks disconcertingly like Evgeny Lebedev, and the actor is far too bloodless in the role. No Way to Stop It - a song that was not included in the film version - was performed in far too light-hearted a way, given that it addresses the question of whether it is a good idea to collaborate with the Nazis. Maria's seven charges are, however, a delight and the show's trump card. They are played by three rotating sets of child actors and the group I got was quite charming. As Gretl, Sarah Huttlestone - just eight years old - proved to be a formidable scene stealer. I'd be surprised if she didn't one day become a big West End star - quite possibly, when this production makes its inevitable West End transfer.