Spring Awakening is by no means an easy show to stage. Exploring the emotional lives of a group of late 19th-century German adolescents naturally has an awkwardness and uncomfortableness about it. Director Martha O’Neil and cast set about navigating this challenge, and after a few false starts they finally land on the right pace and mood to provide a satisfying, if inconsistent meditation on the trials and tribulations of youth growing up in a repressive society.

Spring Awakening follows the lives of a small group of German teens, contending with harsh teachers, misunderstanding parents, and new carnal desires that turn their lives upside down. Mortiz (Alex Hancock) is at risk of flunking out of school, unable to study or sleep properly because of the advent of unwelcome, erotic dreams that haunt his nights. He turns to Melchior (Jonathan Iceton) — the brooding intellectual of the group — for help in explaining the disturbing images, which he does via a thorough and illustrated essay, opening up an even greater can of worms for the unhappy boy. Meanwhile, young Wendla, her ignorance made all the more convincing by Lucia Azzi’s small stature, asks her mother to explain where babies come from, receiving a less than full answer from the embarrassed woman. Without the support of the adults in their lives, the children are left to experience immense personal changes alone, leading to some disastrous consequences.

Hancock’s Moritz shakes with frenetic energy throughout much of the show, embodying the verve of his frenzied fantasies, but a touch more awkwardness and sadness at times might better match the character’s naivety. His most effective performance comes in quiet moments during the second act, which show he’s capable of greater depth than the rushed shivering of his first scenes suggest. At its best, Hancock’s singing voice haunts the audience and his fellow characters alike.

The brooding teenage angst of Melchior runs the risk of becoming a nuisance, but Iceton avoids the problem well, adding saturnine notes of lonesomeness and timidity that make the character more sympathetic. Like Hancock, Iceton shines in the more staid moments of the show, although the energetic and angry ‘Totally Fucked’ works well as a showcase for the suppressed rage of a misunderstood teenager.

In some sequences, the show’s writing requires the actors to bounce from one emotion to the next at an incredibly quick rate, making some interactions feel sudden and out of place. When the actors are able to slow down and enjoy a more natural progression between different feelings, the action becomes more believable and affecting.

The ensemble confidently back up the main characters in song and dance, particularly in the well-choreographed schoolroom scene. Most of the ensemble members also have their own roles and side-stories which range from the charming to the ridiculous (a ‘Ring around the Rosie’ dance complete with a teenage boy in the midst of ‘self-discovery’ at the center of the circle). An unexpected encounter between two of the schoolboys (Lewis Nicolson and Ben Turner) in the second act is at once funny and delightful in its innocent sweetness. The natural staging and relaxed pace of this scene give the actors and audience time to fully enjoy the moment of tentative teenage love, marking one of the show’s high points.

The small orchestra is adept and more than up to the task of the wide-ranging music, but a few notches down on the amps for guitar and bass would allow the singers to be heard better in the louder numbers. Actor amplification worked well for most of the show, although it was disappointing to see handheld mics in the hands of some singers, ruining the theatrical illusion cast by the effective schoolboy uniforms.

The lighting is very good at times, but inconsistently so. When there is one obvious focal point of a scene it works well, but quickly becomes mediocre when the background chorus is more illuminated than the main characters at the front of the stage. The minimal set design of hanging lights and flowers is pretty, but a little more might prove helpful in identifying key locations as the show reaches its climax.

As if following the lead of its teenage protagonists, Spring Awakening begins in fits and starts, unsure of itself — alternating between awkwardly funny and melodramatic angst. Once the production figures out what it is and settles down in the second act, it becomes much more powerful, finally in control of its own emotions.

Spring Awakening is on at Robinson College Auditorium until 24 February