This really shouldn't work. Geraldine Connor's ambitious attempt to marry Handel's Messiah with traditional West Indian carnival ought to be an epic disaster. In addition to the lofty aims of the musical itself, there's a choir, a DJ, a steel band and another clutch of musicians mixing reggae, atmospheric rock and bhangra. The 100-plus cast is a collection of opera and theatre professionals and 70 volunteers, including children. The props department seems to have learned its trade in previous lives in the court of Louis XIV and to cap it all, a lot of the action takes place among the audience. And yet a packed Playhouse grants it a standing ovation.

Things began ominously. Within minutes there are about 75 people gyrating about the theatre. The music is uplifting, the costumes (some of them 20ft high) breathtaking, and every corner seems to contain some energetic flash of colour and activity vying for attention. It's an incredible but confusing spectacle. However, once the actual plot is introduced, Carnival Messiah holds a vice-like grip on the imagination that could have the most hardened atheist running to the church.

It's easy to see why some conservative eyebrows have been raised. Much of the script is as irreverent as it is funny. When Mary is in labour she curses "Oh, Jesus!" and the Angel Gabriel arrives stuffed in a trunk. The key message, however, is to brilliantly equate the Resurrection with the emancipation of black people. More than that, this multi-racial, multi-generational epic provides powerful evidence of what unity can achieve. Some of the scenes (especially the genuinely outrageous trial sequence and the atmospheric Hell scenes) are simply stunning, and there are many fine individual performances. Carnival Messiah is indeed an immaculate conception.

Till October 16. Box office: 0113-213 7700