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The opening of The Lion King is a bona fide five-star moment that reminds you why this musical still rules the theatrical savannah. Forgoing the sentimentality of the 1994 film and the razzle-dazzle of its Broadway peers at the time, it taps into more primal, powerful delights. From its first incantation (translated as “All hail the king” – or “Look, a lion, oh my god”, depending on who you ask), it builds with a chant, a gathering of human bodies, and finally a procession of animals that leaves the stage to come into the audience, enveloping you in a kind of choreographed ritual. (This is a good moment to check in on your date; if they’re not Having Feelings, they may be some kind of joyless ghoul.)

This sequence encapsulates the best of the show: director Julie Taymor’s breathtaking puppets, costumes and sense of ceremony, Lebo M’s choral music and Garth Fagan’s choreography. It still feels surprising and electric; something so pure and sincere, you can almost forget the bedazzled branded water flasks on sale in the foyer, the fascistic and royalist undertones of the story – and the succession of three- and four-star moments trailing in its wake.

Not that this show needs star ratings. The Lion King is an economic and cultural juggernaut, with almost 30 years of continuous service in theatres around the world and more than $8bn in revenue – the highest-grossing production of all time on screen or stage. Mixed critical reception has not dulled its roar.

But it was a risk in its day: Disney’s second stage musical, helmed by avant garde theatremaker Julie Taymor, who insisted on something far more audacious than the straight screen-to-stage adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. Taymor harnessed her experience in mask and puppet traditions such as bunraku to create a tribute to ancient storytelling modes. And in a contemporary theatrical landscape that is increasingly digital, her work with puppets, shadow and light only feels more radical.

And then there’s the massive, multiracial cast, led by African and diaspora performers, which – again, even now, and perhaps particularly in Australia – feels astounding. Lebo M’s South African-inflected score (augmented from the film) includes Congolese, Sotho, Swahili, Tswana, Xhosa and Zulu, and a significant proportion of most casts are from the African continent – including, in this new Australian iteration, South African leads Buyi Zama (returning here for the third time to reprise to role of mandrill shaman Rafiki) and Aphiwe Nyezi (adult Simba), alongside 12 ensemble roles.

Inviting Africa on to the stage is one of the best changes Taymor made to the source text, which – Lebo M aside – was a white confection originally conceived as “Bambi in Africa”, and later described by producer Don Hahn as “a combination Moses-Hamlet-King Arthur Meets Elton John”. Taymor also corrected the film’s gender imbalance, changing Rafiki to a female sangoma (faith healer) figure, expanding the roles of Nala (who gets her own song, Shadowland) and Simba’s mother Sarabi, and devoting more stage time to the female lions, with songs and exuberant dance sequences.

Other additions are less successful. A number of scenes and songs stall the momentum and seem designed to mask set changes while keeping the kids happy (the hyenas – controversial in the animated movie and not significantly improved on stage – are not highlights, and I’m not convinced anyone needs their song Chow Down). Endless Night, sung by adult Simba, is musically tepid and narratively confusing, as he sings about feeling abandoned by his dead dad even after Mufasa clearly told him he’d be watching from the stars. Like many Disney musicals, The Lion King feels overly long – two-and-a-half hours against the film’s 90-minute runtime.

Overall, the show feels like a pastiche of styles and tones. A jazz ballet-inflected “hot hyenas” dance sequence seems to come out of nowhere; and throwaway one-liners about Specsavers, Temu and “bin chicken bánh-mi” jostle uneasily against attempts to conjure a mythic atmosphere.

Among the rest of the show, Emily Nkomo (adult Nala) and Zumi Baya (Rafiki) were vocal standouts on opening night, Nick Afoa (graduating to Mufasa after playing Simba in the 2013 production) brings a pleasing gravitas to his performance, Daniel Frederiksen is an enjoyably camp Scar (guncles have the most fun) and Aphiwe Nyezi is joyously acrobatic.

Still, this is a musical that is greater than the sum of its parts; at its best when the choreographed ensemble, score and Taymor’s aesthetic come together to envelope us in something joyful and epic.

• The Lion King runs at the Capitol theatre, Sydney until September