Recognisably Gatsby, but certainly not great, this stage version of F Scott Fitzgerald's story aches with promise unfulfilled. The audience is encouraged to dress up 1920s style; there is alcohol served in jam jars, and Boston baked beans on the menu. You could be forgiven for thinking you had slipped back in time to a bootleg party circa 1922. Stand in Grace's Alley and peer through the window of Wilton's famous Mahogany Bar and you glimpse the past.

The exquisite Victorian music hall may not be the most appropriate fit for Long Island, but its rackety charm works its magic – before the show and in the interval. It is the building and the peripherals that are the stars here, making Peter Joucia's awkward staging of his own limp version of the narrative seem like an afterthought, an inconsequential sideshow to the drinking and dancing, the chance to dress up and take photos.

Perhaps that's the point and it is our own 21st-century pursuit of pleasure, a mirror of Gatsby's gaudy parties, that is under the microscope here. If so, it doesn't come off: apart from some fine a cappella singing, Joucia's production is so underpowered and lacking in texture that it is hard to make any connections, particularly when the narrative has been shorn of all symbolic power. It would be perfectly possible to exit the theatre none the wiser about what exactly is the problem with Gatsby, Daisy and a post-first world war generation of American youth.

The cast is game, but they fight a losing battle with a staging where gunshots signal not tragedy but titters of laughter from the audience; their characters are barely drawn. The pre- and post-show trappings are fun; if you're looking for the elusive Gatsby, the lights are on but nobody is home.