The success of the television series Benidorm can perhaps be attributed to its ability to balance the broad humour of British sitcoms past and a slyly ironic recognition of its inappropriateness: episodes are based around a mixture of brazen stereotypes and more sensitive characterisations, constantly threatening to collapse into uncomfortable representations of Europeans, homosexuals, women and lusty men but marshalling these for a more sentimental domestic comedy that comments on generational conflicts, working-class aspirations and the outrageous freedoms offered by an all-inclusive holiday. For the stage production, however, writer and creator Derren Litten has fallen back on a cod-pantomime atmosphere, digging up old jokes and making little effort to strive for the poignancy that lifts the series above its retrogressive humour.

Whether Litten wrote the script to accommodate those stars of the series available for the stage production – all of whom are greeted on their entrance with wild enthusiasm and who recreate their characters with consummate theatrical professionalism – the lack of a family at the centre of this production reduces the script to an episode jumble of routines, playing on familiar scenarios from its televisual source. There's a plot about a mistaken identity, a posh couple marooned in the working-class paradise of the Solana hotel (which is their hell, of course), and the buying out of the hotel by a rival company, but these are all quickly resolved in a finale. The focus of the production is the opportunity to see six of the familiar characters do their thing.

And so: barman Mateo (Jake Canuso) is a lothario, hairdresser Kenneth (Tony Maudsley) is flamboyant while his colleague Liam (Adam Gillen) is simple, manager Joyce (Sherrie Hewson) is uptight, club rep Sam (Shelley Longworth) is saucy (and romantic), Jacqueline (Janine Duvitski) is a naive and randy pensioner. Canuso shows off his flamenco chops – something he did in an early episode of the series to startling erotic effect – Duvitski is charmingly innocent even as she remembers past erotic encounters. Yet the script gives them too little, falling back on lazy puns and predictable set-pieces.

While there's an academic essay waiting to be written about Litten's ability to invest stereotypes with compassion, and subvert traditional gender-roles in his television writing, his programme note acknowledges his struggle with playwriting: an oddly defensive reflection on his uncomfortable attempts to understand Pinter and his repurposing of a pantomime he once wrote, it exposes the lack of respect Litten has for the medium and suggests why Benidorm Live aims lazily for moments of recognition from an audience simply delighted to see the stars on stage. The scenography – which spins around to reveal the familiar foyer, swimming pool and Neptune's Bar from the series – is by far the most creative theatrical effect on display and while the production generates a genial warmth between audience and performers, the sentimental yet engaging characterisation of the TV episodes is replaced by a cynical cash-in.

Edinburgh Playhouse, until 22 Sept, then touring.