The origins of this supernatural musical are in ancient British folklore but it plays out as a teen love story in small-town America. Young, spirited – and human – Barbara Allen (Lauren Jones) falls in love with John the Witch Boy (Glenn Adamson), from a community of Witches and Conjur People.

She is willing to incur the wrath of parents and neighbours in her Appalachian town to be with this mysterious man who has drifted in from the Smoky Mountains and is rumoured to have diabolical powers. He is willing to abjure his immortality to spend the rest of his life with her. Both are rebels, determined to be together despite social censure. The matriarchal Conjur Woman (Josie Benson) throws down the gauntlet: if the couple can be faithful for a year, John wins his mortality.

The generation that grew up with Twilight would be forgiven for thinking the setup rather derivative but, in fact, Dark of the Moon got there first. Originally written by Howard Richardson and William Berney as a play, it was first performed in 1942 and then turned into a musical. The themes are all there, from the fierceness of a young love that crosses all social – and mortal – boundaries, to the undertones around the fear of sex and importance of fidelity. Jones brings an edge of punk with a look not far removed from Kristen Stewart’s while Adamson seems to be channelling emo pop star energy (jeans, plaited hair and eyeliner).

It’s all rather weird, but proves its own eternal life through the power and personality of the songs by Lindy Robbins, Dave Bassett and Steve Robson. There are vocally pure performances across the cast, however amped up and cheesy the production as a whole.

On the down side, Jonathan Prince’s book is schematic in its drawing of Barbara Allen’s community as wholesome, the coven of witches as archly evil. The milieu is a mishmash of Walton’s mountain and Salem, the love story akin to Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire in its quest to explore questions around time and mortality. But it lacks any kind of meaningful insight or profundity. The deepest it gets is when Allen’s wannabe rock star brother, Floyd (Wills Mercado), composes a song about being buried six feet under.

Under the direction of Georgie Rankcom, the love story does not come alive either, perhaps because it all seems so hammy. The lyrics are cheesy (“Yeah life’s a bitch and I’m a witch”) but they are catchy and brilliantly sung with twangs of country and bluegrass when the humans sing (in Ordinary Life and Wildflower for example) and glam-rock, electric guitar sounds to the witches’ songs such as Play a Little Dirty.

The production is rather too ridiculous to become the tear-jerker it could be but it’s enjoyable nevertheless.

• At Charing Cross theatre, London, until 8 August