The 1985 film My Beautiful Laundrette holds a particular place in the history of British cinema, and a particular place in the hearts of many cinema lovers – particularly those from the UK’s Pakistani and LGBT+ communities. In hindsight, it was astonishingly ahead of its time, exploring themes of racism, class conflict and misogyny while foregrounding a same-sex, mixed-race relationship – and doing so with both realism and warmth. For many of us who were young in the 80s and 90s, it was a seminal moment in understanding the swirling currents affecting the society in which we were growing up.

So for those of a certain generation, the return of the story of Omar and Johnny in a stage version was a matter of some excitement – not least because of the return of Gordon Warnecke, the original Omar, in the role of Papa this time around. Would the story hold up 40 years later? Would the 80s setting make this feel like ancient history, or would it still feel relevant?

Thanks to an energetic cast and pacy direction, and a terrific 1980s soundtrack, the answers are mostly positive when it comes to this production. The UK has moved on a lot in the last 40 years, particularly in terms of acceptance of gay people and the treatment of people of colour, but the fundamental questions the play raises – around acceptance, identity and the choices we all have to make about where we belong – remain as pertinent as ever. It’s these universal themes, and the committed performances, that keep the story feeling relevant.

The play’s two leads are the backbone of the production, and both Lucca Chadwick-Patel (Omar) and Sam Mitchell (Johnny) do exceptional work. Chadwick-Patel brings a boyish naivety and emotional honesty to Omar that makes his coming of age story compelling, while Mitchell does a superb job of gradually revealing the vulnerability lying behind Johnny’s tough boy exterior. The two have terrific chemistry – it’s a thoroughly believable relationship that makes the audience root for them, as they must for the play to succeed.

There are strong performances from the rest of the cast too. Sharan Phull is a delightfully naturalistic Tania, desperation increasingly overcoming her natural cheerfulness as she seeks to take control of her own fate. Kammy Darweish’s Nasser is superb, bursting with 80s capitalist exuberance and raising the energy levels every time he appears. Emma Bown turns in an impressive dual performance, serving both pathos as Nasser’s mistress Rachel, who seeks refuge in Nasser but finds herself despised for it, and comedy as dim hanger-on Moose. And Hareet Deol’s Salim – visually the most eighties character on stage, resplendent in pink suit over a white vest, with a lion’s mane of hair and a magnificent beard – provides just the right level of menace.

The play is of its era, and there are parts that feel a bit dated. The stereotypes of the Pakistani community – which did not go uncriticised at the time of the film’s release – feel perhaps even more on the nose. The shadow of Thatcher, looming large over all the characters, now makes it feel more and more like a historical piece. And now that fascism is to be found as much on social media and in suited politicians as in bovver booted skinheads, the latter somehow don’t feel as threatening on stage as they did on film in 1985.

The production also isn’t helped by an over-complicated set. It’s intended to evoke a 1980s pop video but unfortunately is just too busy for the relatively limited space of the Curve’s studio theatre. The dominant colour is grey, appropriate to a play where the dampness of Britain is a repeated theme, but the presence of a glitterball high above the stage and half-hidden neon signs (including an exact reproduction of the main sign from the film) hint at a spectacular transformation when the renovated Powders laundrette opens in Act 2. Alas, it never quite happens – the neon comes on, but it’s underwhelming. That might have been the intention (in the film too the laundrette’s transformation is fairly cosmetic) but the theatrical set-up inevitably makes it feel a bit disappointing.

Set quibbles aside, this is a production that decisively shows why this is a story worth revisiting. It’s ultimately a feel-good show that also offers us the opportunity to reflect on how far we’ve come as a country, and how even in times that feel hopelessly divided, love (in all its forms) still has the capacity to bring us together. What better way to cheer up a gloomy February evening?

My Beautiful Laundrette is directed by Nicole Behan. Original 2019 director Nikolai Foster. Set design and costume design by Grace Smart. Composers: Tennant/Lowe. Lighting Designer: Ben Cracknell

My Beautiful Laundrette was developed with the support of the National Theatre’s Generate programme and is a Theatre Nation Partnership production, produced by Curve.

Runs at Curve until Saturday 24th Feb.