Review – Life of Pi, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd April 2024

I remember missing out on seeing Lolita Chakrabarti’s stage version of Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi when it opened in Sheffield five years ago. Since then, it’s hit the West End and Broadway, garnering awards by the bucketload as it goes, and is currently nearing the final few months of its UK and Ireland tour, with a US tour on the way. You could say it’s been pretty successful! Confession time: I haven’t read the book, but I have seen the film – and I’m afraid it left both Mrs Chrisparkle and I cold. Can Max Webster’s stage production give it the magic it needs?

Let’s go back to basics. Sixteen year old Piscine Patel, at home in Pondicherry with a loving family who run the local zoo, can’t get enough of God. So much so that he attends temple in the morning, church in the afternoon and mosque in the evening. He’s decided to shorten his name to Pi, primarily because his schoolfriends and brother take the piscine out of his full name; but I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Pi also gives us π, the mathematical magic number that plays its part in ruling the universe – mind you, what do I know? I only just scraped Maths O Level fifty years ago.

It’s while crossing the high seas on an attempt to create a new life for themselves in Canada, accompanied by a rag-tag collection of wild animals from the zoo and the world’s surliest cook, that they are shipwrecked. All the animals eat/kill each other until only Richard Parker, the Bengal Tiger, is left; and with Pi being the lone human survivor, they’re stuck together at sea for 227 days. Unbelievable, no? But that’s the point. Life can be unbelievable sometimes, and you’d better believe it. Mrs Okamoto may think Pi is spinning a tale of deceit from his hospital bed in Mexico, but just because something seems impossible, it need not necessarily be so. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, etc.

Piscine, of course, means swimming pool in French, so from an early age young Pi was destined to be surrounded by water. Commentators have suggested that the sea in which he gets shipwrecked represents God because it’s everywhere; others say it’s the tiger who represents God because Pi both loves and fears him (and indeed talks to him – and the tiger talks back.) Either way, it’s a fantastical story, and, at the end of the day, Pi is the epitome of a true survivor. Is it because of his faith in God? You decide.

The production fortunately taps in to all the exhilarating and magical aspects of the story and is a hugely engrossing two-and-a-quarter hours of visual theatricality. The combination of Tim Hatley’s set design and Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling’s lighting design is irresistibly evocative throughout the show. The stark hospital room (reminiscent of Act Four of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, by the way) opens up into the family Pondicherry courtyard, filled with butterflies and warmth; later the walls reveal numerous secrets as the scene transforms into the ship being tossed on the seas. The lighting is also constantly evolving and suggestive and plays a huge part in the scene-setting.

At the heart of it all, and – I think – never off stage, is Divesh Subaskaran’s Pi, a dream of a professional debut, and a performance brimming with confidence, style, vulnerability and strength. Even though (hopefully) none of us will ever face the same challenges as Pi, he makes us easily identify with his character and inside we’re cheering him on to survival. Endearing from the very start, he is the kind of performer you can’t stop watching. Surely he will have a great career ahead of him.

The other superb performance is from the actors/puppeteers who bring Richard Parker to life, an extraordinarily physical feat but also artistically riveting, as they echo precisely those terrifying tiger movements – sly and threatening, powerful but delicate in its actions. The whole cast form a true ensemble, with many of them covering several roles, but standing out for me is the great support from Lilian Tsang as the no-nonsense Mrs Okamoto, and an enjoyable comic turn from Chand Martinez as the inspirational Admiral Balbir Singh.

There’s a moment shortly before the end when Pi offers an alternative explanation of what truly happened on that shipwreck. I was reminded of Hercule Poirot proposing two solutions at the end of Murder on the Orient Express – one that could satisfy the officials; and one that was the truth. Pi gives Mrs Okamoto an account that’s less fantastical and more believable. But is it more palatable? Sometimes it’s best to trust in the unbelievable.

Life of Pi continues its run this week in Northampton and then moves on to Nottingham, Wolverhampton, Liverpool, Shrewsbury, Southampton, Bath, Truro, Cheltenham, Glasgow, Edinburgh and finally Salford in July. A great set, great puppetry and a superb central performance – and you’ll probably be talking about what it all meant for days.

P. S. There is an explanation for why the tiger is called Richard Parker. I did wonder if some other parallel universe contains a moderately successful suburban accountant named Shere Khan. It would only be fair.