You certainly get a lot of Maria Friedman for your buck in this one-woman, many-songs show. Splendid as it is to hear the three-time Olivier Award winner, back in fine voice after her recent treatment for breast cancer, there's no escaping the fact that this is a hoaky old format. The lone artiste ploughs through a mishmash of tunes and indulges in some potentially excruciating between-numbers chat, which customarily involves gushing eulogies of everyone he or she has ever worked with. The word 'genius' is seldom under-used.

Yet Friedman spins the formula with no little charm and an engagingly crinkle-faced grin, so she just about pulls it off. To the skilled backing of a peppy 11-piece band she tackles a daunting list of 27 songs specially (re) arranged for the occasion.

Stephen Sondheim figures highly as his lyrically superior work easily survives the transition from a specific show to a more general context. However, there are also notable contributions from the likes of Irving Berlin, Jacques Brel and Kate Bush.

There's a judicious mixture of tempi from musical directors Michael Haslam and Chris Walker, although the danger of there being one torch song too many is constantly on the prowl.

The slow stuff doesn't show Friedman at anywhere near her best: the a cappella version of Suzanne Vega's Tom's Diner sounds dangerously exposed, and is followed by a glumly downbeat You are My Sunshine. Ironically, she takes the achingly sensitive Look over There from La Cage aux Folles too fast.

Friedman is a charismatic performer who knows how to woo an audience and even, at one point, to encourage a massed chorus of recorder playing and her powerful voice swells with sassy attitude in the delightful Randy Newman duo of Dayton, Ohio 1903 and Short People.

The second half opens with her vigorously kneading dough as Sweeney Todd's Mrs Lovett. A cameo appearance from Johnny Depp would have rounded this section off beautifully.

Director David Babani ensures that Friedman doesn't hare unnecessarily and distractingly about and allows her only a couple of sashays down the obligatory staircase, sandwiched between the two pianos of the musical directors.

Her singing is, as it should be, the focus, and if she occasionally sounds a little tired, we can excuse her after a high-octane, tune-stuffed two hours.

Until 4 May (www.menierchocolatefactory.com)