Review – Roald Dahl’s The BFG, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 9th December 2025

Posted on December 10, 2025 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

You’ve heard the phrase, the magic of theatre. Many productions aim for it, some get near it; few achieve it. The Royal Shakespeare Company’s new production of The BFG defines it. Suffice to say, there’s technical wizardry in abundance here, but that’s not what creates the magic alone; what this production has is heart, pure heart. It arises from the combination of all the elements that create this wonderful show, from director Daniel Evans’ vision, the seamless pairing of puppets and actors, the lighting, the sound, the video projection, the how did they do that elements when an actor seems to disappear and then reappear somewhere completely different; not to mention the remarkable characterisations, and the comedy, which genuinely provokes several massive guffaw moments.

©Marc Brenner

For some reason, I never encountered any of Roald Dahl’s children’s stories as a lad, and I only think of him in terms of Tales of the Unexpected. Before seeing the show, I therefore had no preconceptions of The BFG, I only expected him to be big, friendly, and… well you get the picture. Tom Wells’ adaptation introduces us to besties Sophie and Kimberley, in their beds at their orphanage, with different coping strategies about surviving the witching hour. When Sophie catches the eyes of the BFG looking through her window – and the BFG realises he has been sprung – he has no alternative but to kidnap her and take her back to Giant Country. But rather than this being the beginning of her end, they form a charming bond which leads on to an adventure where they survive a fight against the evilest of the giants, Bloodbottler, and engage the services of H. M. The Queen to capture these giant unwanted menaces to prevent human beans from being eaten. All in a day’s work.

©Marc Brenner

Stage puppetry has come a long way in recent years; it all started with War Horse. Thankfully The BFG hasn’t gone full AI in its approach to creating the illusion; it’s gone back to basics with teams of puppeteers who make their characters truly come to life in a most human way. And the faces of the puppets are truly outstanding in that they absolutely capture their characters’ attributes. I realised at one point that the eyes of the BFG puppet were staring straight into mine and – I kid you not – you could see into his soul; that’s how believable they are.

The other devilish trick this production has up its sleeve is that Sophie, the BFG and Bloodbottler are all represented by both puppets and actors, at the same time. This doubles the characterisations and makes the story come even more to life. In fact, there are three scales of puppetry/actor: massive giant puppet with child actor, adult actor with child puppet, and another scale where the giant is a small puppet, with the other adult characters smaller puppets and the child actors being represented by teeny tiny puppets – such playfulness works brilliantly.

©Marc Brenner

The BFG’s personal speciality is being a dream creator and controller, and the production’s visual representation of this is enchanting. Dreams whizz around the auditorium like speedy miniature comets, or they are born or captured in glass jars where colours whirl and lights pulsate. The BFG transmits a dream by blowing a huge trumpet at someone; the recipient is then bathed in light as the dream takes hold. I’ve often wondered how dreams catch on; now I know.

©Marc Brenner

This production relies heavily on its two child actors playing the parts of Sophie and Kimberley. No pressure, kids, but it’s a big ask. At our performance, Sophie was played by Ellemie Shivers and Kimberley by Maisy Lee, and they are both sensational. Young Ms Shivers in particular has both remarkable comic timing and an extraordinary insight into characterisation for someone so young. It is, appropriately, a dream of a performance. And Ms Lee also completely holds her own on a stage full of adults, neither of them ever putting a foot wrong with the most assured performances.

©Marc Brenner

John Leader’s BFG is another beguiling performance. From the fluidity of his movement to his superb vocal characterisation, he creates the kindliest, most thoughtful, and indeed most self-deprecatory giant you could ever imagine. Helena Lymbery is a delight as the Queen, positively itching to get herself away from the suppressive flunkies and get her teeth stuck into an adventure. There is a truly hilarious double-act from Philip Labey and Luke Sumner as Captains Smith and Frith, taking military stiff upper lips where they’ve never been before, treading a fantastic line between parody and credibility; Mr Sumner’s running joke about Frith’s vocal delivery has everyone in stitches. Richard Riddell’s grotesque Bloodbottler is the perfect baddie, and Sargon Yelda wins us over as Tibbs, the Queen’s butler undergoing a crise de confiance.

©Marc Brenner

And it goes without saying that all the puppeteers are extraordinarily gifted in the way they bring humanity to their characters. I was even engrossed by observing how carefully they made the smaller puppets walk; the accurate placing of heel, then arch, then ball of foot before launching off on the toe before the other heel comes down. Such attention to detail!

With its inventive helicopter scene and its (let’s not beat about the bush) farting conclusion, this is one of the best examples of children’s theatre I can remember. If you want to create theatregoers of the future, this is how you do it. The BFG is thrilling children – and adults – at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 7^th February and then has a month in Chichester before a run in Singapore. I can’t recommend this strongly enough.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Henry V, Headlong, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 8th March 2023

Posted on March 9, 2023 by therealchrisparkle

Wasn’t it Bonnie Tyler who said, I’m holding out for a hero ’til the end of the night; he’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight? I think it was. And if there’s one thing Britain could do with right now, it’s a national hero. Someone to lead us once more into the breach, someone to get their hands dirty in the fight scenes. Someone to stir our desires, raise our spirits, smack our heads together and put us back on the right route. We need a King Harry!

And Headlong, in collaboration with Shakespeare’s Globe, the Leeds Playhouse and the Royal and Derngate, have done their darndest to give us one, in the form of Oliver Johnstone as the eponymous warrior King. But this King Henry is no straightforward military machine. He’s a complex soul. Quirkily opening with a scene from Act IV of Henry IV Part II, we see that he’s hungry for power, taking the crown off his father before he’s even dead; but he’s also riddled with self-doubt. In a fascinating reading of the role, every time the king makes a great decision or rallies the troops with a stirring speech, afterwards, he doubles up in internal agonies.

His famous breach speech at the siege of Harfleur starts with him cowering on the floor, slowly daring to build in confidence as his words hit home. Not so much whooping up his fighting men, he’s actually using the speech to bestow strength on himself. It’s only when the French are fully defeated, and he’s taken the land he wants, that he relaxes – to an extent; his self-doubt is replaced with a short temper and an even shorter fuse. Normally, that final scene where he woos Katherine is treated as light relief and an insight into the more human aspect of Henry’s personality. Not in this production. He’s as snappy as a crocodile that’s just been given bad news.

But what am I doing, starting at the end? Let’s go back to the beginning. Holly Race Roughan’s production has sliced away many of the unnecessary fripperies, to bring us a Henry V that’s lean, direct, clear and in your face. None of this muse of fire nonsense, that’s out; no Archbishops and bishops nattering on the sidelines. Instead, it concentrates on the action, the motives, and the arguments. A few words with his brothers and his uncle and it’s straight in with the French Ambassadors and the mocking tennis balls. To help us keep up with this extremely pacey production, the cast frequently announce the change of scene and tell us which characters they are playing. Brecht would have loved it. And it’s a simple device that works incredibly well. Traditionally Henry V has been considered the most patriotic of plays, right down to Churchill using Lord Olivier’s famous performance in the 1944 film for wartime propaganda purposes. This production excels at bringing out the question of responsibility in war, and the consequences of marching into other countries’ territory – it reveals the nationalistic pettiness that can have so much influence on people’s behaviour.

You may have gathered that if you’re a Shakespeare purist, this is probably not the production for you. I’m not sure that the immortal bard would have expected the new King to be greeted with a rousing chorus of God Save Our Gracious King, nor would Pistol have called Fluellen a Welsh C*nt. Nor is it that likely that the Dauphin and Orleans would have had such a – shall we say – close bromance. But Shakespeare’s big and strong enough to look after himself; he’s been performed for the last four hundred years, and he’ll certainly be performed for the next four hundred. So no need to get anxious on his behalf.

Moi Tran’s simple set consists of two rows of chairs either side of the stage that the cast occupy whilst they’re not actually involved in a scene, in front of a big green ruffled curtain that occasionally rises to reveal a nicely antiqued mirror wall, perfect for the King’s soul-searching speeches. It’s a deliberately small and plain set; you can look around the back and the sides to see the backstage gubbins and people occasionally walking around. It adds to the sense of performance right here right now – tonight, in this very theatre, in front of this very audience, ten people have come together to tell the story of Henry V. It’s up to us to interpret what we see and let our imaginations run riot within the wooden O. It’s what the Chorus would have wanted, if his opening speech had been kept. The artificiality of the presentation is highlighted in the very final scene – again, not written by Shakespeare – which brings the story fully into 21^st century Britain. It involves an official, someone trying to take British Citizenship, and a vacuum cleaner. I’ll say no more.

The whole show is extremely slickly presented and performed by an excellent ensemble who dovetail beautifully into their respective roles and scenes. Oliver Johnstone is excellent as Henry, at times meek and uncertain, at others bombastic and cruel. He gives a great reading of the text – clear, emotional and nuanced; in the scene, for example, where he realises he has been betrayed by his friend Scroop, he treads the finest of lines between fury and pure sadness. He’s really going to miss his old buddy – but it won’t stop him from choking him to death.

Helena Lymbery is outstanding as King Henry IV, and Henry’s uncle Exeter – a true support and enforcer who will stand for no nonsense. I really enjoyed the performance by Jon Furlong as Bardolph – if there is one stand-out moment of the play it’s probably the end of Act One and the death of Bardolph; a superb piece of theatricality. Joshua Griffin is great as the belligerent Fluellen, and Eleanor Henderson is also terrific as the obnoxiously entitled Prince Louis. And Geoffrey Lumb beautifully conveys the range of emotions faced by the King of France as he at first defends his country but then realises when he has been beaten. But the whole cast do a first rate job of clearly, succinctly, and punchily bringing this 16^th century play to life. The show continues in the Royal auditorium until 18^th March.