Review – Middlemarch Parts One and Two, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 31st October 2026

Posted on November 1, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Johan Persson

George Eliot’s Middlemarch is considered one of the finest novels in the English language. As an English undergraduate, I remember buying the chunky Penguin paperback and starting to read it – and it became one of those many books that I started and never finished. Not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because I simply didn’t have the time. Have you seen how many pages it is??

©Johan Persson

It occurred to me as I was reading it all those years ago, that if George Eliot had been writing in the 1970s, she would probably have been a scriptwriter on TV’s Crossroads. I appreciate that will be an unconventional and probably unwelcome opinion. What, however, is welcome, is to watch the RSC’s two-part adaptation at the Swan Theatre, to see for oneself just how good a book it is, without having to read it! Decades ago, their outstanding and equally long Nicholas Nickleby, adapted by David Edgar, made me determined to read Dickens’ original. Would Nina Raine’s new version do the same for Middlemarch?

©Johan Persson

Adapting such a major and well-known work for the stage is fraught with problems; perhaps none bigger than the fact that, as with nearly all novels, it starts small and grows as its threads, characters, themes, events all develop. As a result, Middlemarch Part One is expository, introducing characters, setting scenes, creating relationships. Dramatically, it’s limited. If this were indeed a soap opera, don’t expect much from the end of episode cliffhangers – they’re just not that exciting.

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If ever it was vital to see the two parts in chronological order, it’s with Middlemarch. Indeed, if (like me) you didn’t know the story and only booked to see Part One, I think you’d go home feeling very short-changed. However, see both parts on the same day and all the work you put in for the matinee pays dividends in the evening. Everything falls into place, situations that were left hanging are resolved, and there’s even a happy ending. George Eliot can look back and say that her work here is done. That’s because she is a constant presence throughout the whole six hours, introducing the story, acting as a narrator, and casting an affectionate, proprietorial eye over the proceedings.

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But she’s more than that. There’s always a forceful power when a work of art grapples with its own creative process. John Fowles’ French Lieutenant’s Woman is a prime example, both in novel and film form, where the creation of the work is as important a dimension as the work itself. On a (maybe) lesser level, think of Spandau Ballet despairingly asking Why do I find it hard to write the next line? in the pursuit of defining whatever it is that is True. In Nina Raine’s adaptation, George Eliot becomes almost a life coach in Middlemarch, helping her characters find ways out of their predicaments, criticising their behaviour but also having to defend herself against her portrayals (Rosamond rounding on Eliot saying you don’t think much of me do you is a fantastically meta moment). Many’s the time when Eliot doesn’t have the answer and her facial expressions as performed by Amanda Root simply suggest let’s play it out and see what happens. This creative device is either going to endear you to the production or alienate you. For my part, I loved it.

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Grace Smart’s set truly excels with a blank stage surface but with hidden secrets beneath a myriad of traps. Open a trap and you never know what lies under there; it’s as unpredictable as a nineteenth century provincial advent calendar. The set also features a series of vaulted arches high above the stage, suggesting a church or a town hall, two aspects of life which would dominate smalltown society in the Victorian age. I confess it’s only in retrospect that I appreciate the appropriateness of the overhanging arches; whilst watching the plays, I didn’t feel that the plot and subject matter sufficiently dovetailed with the overriding sense of religion that these arches convey. True, the plays are bookended with candles and hymn-like singing, but this element of spiritualism fades as we get into the meat of the story.

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In fact, what primarily comes across from the text and performance is a world of financial management and mismanagement, the growth in understanding medicine, and the will to reform politics – debt, doctors and democracy in fact. It’s how Eliot’s characters cope with this changing world that gives the work its spark. They are real people, handling the devastation of unexpected poverty, disastrous marriage, alienation and the fear that your sins will find you out. This all bubbles beneath the surface of the behavioural requirements of polite society; and this production expresses that conflict between a brave public face and private disaster beautifully.

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The marvellous cast, many of them playing several roles, handle this mammoth task superbly. Amanda Root is exquisite as Eliot, creating a conduit between the audience and the characters, probing, questioning and cajoling her creations to make sense of their choices and motivations. Nia Towle is mesmerising as Dorothea, the very definition of an upright citizen as her high aspirations lead her into a calamitous marriage that will continue to blight her even into widowhood. Lizzie Annis is delightfully guileless as both Celia and Mary, delicately bringing out the comic potential of both characters. Ian Drysdale is superbly withering as the humourless, selfish Casaubon, and marvellously open and generous as the moral Caleb.

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Peter Forbes is hilarious as the blustering Brooke, and truly sinister as the malignant Raffles, Emma McDonald invests Rosamond with a very believable sense of entitlement and vanity without ever making her a pantomime villain, and Gunnar Cauthery is superb as the posh Sir James and heart-on-his-sleeve Farebrother. His moment of realisation that he stands no chance with Mary is exceptional. Rory Alexander gives us a feckless but likeable Ladislaw, dithering his way through life, Andrew Richardson is great as the principled but emotionally rudderless Lydgate, and John Hodgkinson is outstanding as the cold, calculating Bulstrode, and steals every scene as the outrageously positive Trumbull. In a production full of serious, demanding scenes, Mr Hodgkinson plays a lively part in the two brilliantly funny scenes – the will reading and the auction, both of which warrant the ticket price.

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Ebenezer Gyau is also terrific as the lazy and irresponsible wastrel Fred, lamenting his bad luck and failed schemes whilst carrying off all the elegance of someone who’s never done a day’s work in his life. Penny Layden brings wonderful characterisations to all six of her roles, and there’s superb support from Anita Reynolds as the hearty Mrs Vincy and accidental murderer Mrs Abel. There isn’t the slightest suggestion of a weak link throughout the whole cast.

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Overall, as a theatrical experience, the excellence of Part Two doesn’t quite make up for the perhaps inevitable dramatic sparseness of Part One. But patience is a virtue and once this dramatisation fully gets going there’s no stopping it. And, yes, when I got home, I downloaded Middlemarch onto my kindle, which must be a good sign. The production continues at the Swan Theatre until 16^th January.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – As You Like It, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 10th October 2026

Posted on October 11, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

You won’t find a better practitioner of the art of gender-blind casting than the Royal Shakespeare Company, but in Daniel Evans’ new production of As You Like It, they’ve really given it a new twist. This all-male production hasn’t changed Rosalind to Ross or Celia to Cecil, choosing to keep the female roles as female and largely removing any sense of “female impersonation” from the characterisations. By largely playing it – if you’ll excuse the expression – straight – there is no element of what we think of as drag in this production; it simply has male actors playing female roles, much as would have happened back in Shakespeare’s time. The result is a fresh, positive, emotional production that feels authentic, honest and very, very funny.

©Marc Brenner

Beautifully acted throughout, there are no weak links within the cast, and all the technical elements are superb too. Fantastic set design from Anisha Fields creates a stark contrast between the monochrome harshness of Act One’s court – a blank white set populated by grim men in black suits – to be followed by the unruly, natural countryside of Arden, where shepherds lurk behind tufts of grass and although financial poverty is rife, it can’t erode the richness of emotional support. Ryan Day’s excellent lighting creates some very striking effects to accompany the ruthlessness of Duke Frederick’s rule, which is then softened as we enter Duke Senior’s relaxed, bucolic environment.

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I must confess, I often regard the incidental music in productions as something akin to ignorable wallpaper, but in this instance that couldn’t be further from the truth. The music is stunning. Evans has transported Arden to rural Wales, where music seems to evolve naturally from the earth, using tradition Welsh hymns, sung in Welsh; and the blend of the voices is emotional and entrancing, the kind of music that can truly soothe a savage breast. Often the music and the action work side by side; among the show’s more memorable and emotional moments is the singing that accompanies the scene where old Adam shares food and drink kindly shared by the Lords of Arden. Stirring and powerful, it’s totally respectful of the old man and gentle in the support provided to him. It’s not all Bread of Heaven though; in one cheeky scene the cast recreate Raye’s 2025 hit Where is my Husband – and not only is it hilarious but it also integrates perfectly with the rest of the play.

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And that’s the key to this production. It’s not afraid to take some risks and break the rules whilst still being remarkably faithful to and respectful of the original text. Jonathan Groff and Fisayo Akinade play Rosalind and Celia in as traditional way as possible, their girlish playfulness balanced with the injustice of their banishment and Rosalind’s determination to make Orlando work hard in order to secure her hand. For perhaps obvious reasons, there’s probably never been a more boyish Rosalind than Mr Groff’s, which only makes his regular scenes as Ganymede more believable. Only after a delightful moment of physical comedy when Orlando’s brother Oliver – a terrific supporting performance by Caleb Roberts – discovers that Ganymede might be – shall we say – womanlier than first realised, does the production allow itself a little, very subtle, admission that this boy/girl/boy game is more nuanced than at first sight.

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The result of all this is that it is genuinely one of the funniest productions of this play I’ve ever seen. Once the scene shifts to Arden, the combination of Messrs Groff and Akinade works as a brilliant comedy double act, with Celia playing the straight man/woman/man to Rosalind’s natural stage dominance. With no attempt by Mr Groff to disguise his American accent, it’s another way in which the character of Rosalind stands out from the crowd; never referred to until late in the play when Orlando refers to her accent and a slight rewrite of the original provides the perfect response. Mr Akinade meanwhile excels with moments of amazing physical comedy but also gives us a superb understanding of how Celia resents becoming invisible as she is forced to withdraw from the action to let Rosalind and Orlando’s story play out. And both Groff and Akinade are remarkable at portraying that special moment of love at first sight; both funny and endearing at the same time.

©Marc Brenner

Elsewhere, a pause inserted here and an unexpected glance added there, all go to create something very credible out of what is, on paper at least, quite an unlikely story scenario. Just an involuntary sound can have a huge impact: when Jaques commences his famous speech with the words “All the world’s a stage” (a remarkably insightful performance by Richard McCabe), the eternally entertaining Gary Wilmot as the Duke utters an “ah!” as if to say, what a fascinating concept I’m really interested to hear what you’re going to say. A simple idea that works incredibly well.

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The production also benefits from a superb performance by Elliot Barnes-Worrell as Orlando; perfect clear delivery from an actor who understands the nuance behind every line. Gareth Snook’s performance in the double roles of Adam and Audrey is doubly impressive; the first conveying the noble frailty of the old retainer, and the second full of cheekiness and ribaldry. You know that when Audrey and Greg Haiste’s Touchstone tie the knot they’re going to have a fantastic season of sex and laughter and then swiftly swipe left on the relationship.

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There’s excellent support from Giles Cooper’s unexpectedly affable Le Beau, Rhys Parry Jones’ Corin and Hymen, and Tim Preston’s hilariously buttoned up Phoebe; but the entire cast is without fault, and everyone contributes to make this show the success it undoubtedly is.

It’s not often that a revival of a Shakespearean comedy is a must-see – but Daniel Evans’ production of As You Like It should be seen far and wide and unreservedly deserves a transfer.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Cherry Orchard, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 29th July 2026

Posted on July 30, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Johan Persson

Usually, the person who knows a play best is its writer; however, sometimes it takes an insightful actor or director to point the play in a different direction from how the writer imagined it and bring the truth out of the text. That old cove Chekhov insisted that The Cherry Orchard was a comedy – indeed with farcical elements. Sixty odd years after he wrote it, Edward Bond also described his notorious play Saved, which included the torture and murder of a baby, as a comedy. Birds of a feather, I reckon.

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Laura Wade’s new adaptation of The Cherry Orchard works hard to accentuate all the comic elements and the quirkier characterisations. Yepikhodov is a clumsy oaf who pratfalls his way through the play. Gaev is dressed like he’s wearing last year’s Christmas jumper. Pishchik gets drunk easily and wobbles his way around the stage. And Lopakhin speaks in a Northern Irish accent. Why? Good question. Probably for the same reason that Yasha sees fit to administer cunnilingus to Dunyasha beneath her dress (not sure the Wednesday matinee audience was ready for that) or that Yepikhodov decides to play Elvis Presley’s Wooden Heart on the guitar. Maybe it’s to create some kind of Brechtian Verfremdungseffekt? Whilst we’re on the subject of music, Royal Shakespeare Company productions normally nail the incidental musical accompaniments; but this production has, for some reason, a loud extended piano piece that completely drowns out important conversations in the third Act – again, why?

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Balancing all these tricksy, light-hearted elements the production faces an uphill battle to reveal the tragedies beneath the surface; and it very much relies on individual performances to do the best they can. Esther Smith is excellent as Mme Ranyevskaya’s adopted daughter Varya, busily fretting with household matters and enabling others to do what they want, to the extent that she allows herself to ignore her own position and future; and, in arguably the best scene of the play, her reaction to not receiving a proposal from Lopakhin, where she gives in and breaks down in floods of tears, gives us a genuine insight into what Varya’s future will look like.

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Michael Elwyn as the old manservant Firs also allows us to look behind the façade and see the past crumbling away as time marches inexorably forwards. Delightfully doddery and bewildered, his occasional flashes of true insight show us another character who has given up their life in the service of others; but he sees it as a life well-lived, a privilege to have been pivotal in such a prominent family.

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For me, the best performance in the production comes from Alfred Enoch as Trofimov; he’s the only major character in the play who speaks with genuine conviction, and indeed, his is the one character who has faith that there will be a bright future ahead for the country. Robust, assertive and intelligent, he certainly gives the production a boost of energy every time he comes on stage.

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There are those, of course, who remain unaffected by the tragedies or the societal changes that Chekhov so successfully foresaw. Mme Ranyevskaya, and her brother Gaev, are vacuous aristocrats who spend money – that they don’t have – like water and fritter away their lives on bland pursuits. It’s definitely a challenge to make these two characters interesting; and I fear that neither Helen Hunt nor Bill Pullman succeeds in that quest. Ms Hunt underplays Ranyevskaya so much that you feel she never really features in the play at all. When she’s told endless times by Lopakhin that the cherry orchard will be put up for auction, it’s not that she buries her head in the sand, simply nothing registers, there’s no reaction at all. When she finally gets agitated that, as predicted, it’s been sold, her sudden reaction stretches the audience’s credulity. But – to be fair – why should Madame bother? Her solution is just to go back to Paris and continue to spend other people’s money.

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This is the second RSC production this year to star Kenneth Branagh. Fresh from a superb performance as Prospero in The Tempest, here he is Lopakhin, getting off to an amusingly entertaining start as he was onstage all the while the audience were entering the auditorium and we hadn’t a clue. Desperate for attention in the first scene, where he is the nouveau-riche upstart trying to impress the old money aristos, he hops about, trying to ingratiate himself, like a vulture awaiting an imminent feast. When it is revealed that he has bought the cherry orchard, he is so cock-a-hoop yet immensely surprised at his own success, that he can barely break it to Madame that her estate is now his – squirming his way through his speech in a mixture of delight and embarrassment. And his non-proposal to Varya is a moment of theatrical brilliance that produced exasperated gasps from the audience. It’s a confident and highly individual performance – definitely shifty, and in many ways eccentric, especially with that accent.

©Johan Persson

Despite Sir Kenneth’s shenanigans, overall, and some good supporting performances – Julian Moore-Cook’s Yasha is believably flaky and Amber Gadd’s Dunyasha is a natural for the comedy – the production feels disappointing. There’s an almost total lack of emotion, rendering this remarkable play cold and – dare I say it – largely dull. Laura Wade’s updatings feel at odds with the traditional costumes and Anna Fleischle’s set, which emphasise the faded glory of the old house and the encroaching, unmanaged orchard outside. Despite what Chekhov might have thought, this isn’t a funny enough play to concentrate on the comedy and let the tragedy look after itself. I came away from it agreeing with Lopakhin – chop down those trees, build some dachas and move on. It’s what the place needs.

Two Disappointing for More!

Review – The Tempest, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon Avon, 28th May 2026

Posted on May 29, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Johan Persson

The RSC’s new production of The Tempest is significant in more ways than one. Prospero is played by one of our most experienced Shakespearean actors Sir Kenneth Branagh; and the production is directed by the prodigious and highly respected Sir Richard Eyre, making his RSC debut at 83 years old. It’s no surprise that if you check the box office there isn’t a seat to be had for the entire run.

©Johan Persson

Probably Shakespeare’s swansong play, and his second shortest (only The Comedy of Errors has fewer lines), Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan and magician to boot, has escaped from his usurping brother with just his daughter Miranda and his precious books to a remote island where the only inhabitant is the “savage and deformed” slave, Caliban. He also has the services of the spirit Ariel to call upon when he wants to get things done. Scholars have argued over the centuries about the extent to which Prospero is Shakespeare, winding up his creative career and putting the finishing touches to his magic before a brave new world comes in and takes over. Sounds fair to me, and nothing in this production argues against that.

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But such intellectual debate is of little concern in Eyre’s new production, which is all about the magic. The first couple of minutes make the production’s approach to the play crystal clear. Prospero, having borrowed the sorcerer’s cloak from Disney’s Fantasia, masterminds the action from his music stand as he conducts the magic that causes the famous opening shipwreck scene. It’s an outstanding start, combining the best of Bob Crowley’s set, Fotini Dimou’s costume design, Hugh Vanstone’s lighting and Nicola T Chang’s sound design.

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One of this production’s strengths is its excellent storytelling – and that opening scene is a prime example. We can see that Prospero’s magic has caused the storm simply by using our eyes, so that when the text in the following scene actually explains that is the case, it’s confirming something we already know. This frees up that scene between Prospero and Miranda to reveal a comedy element that I’m not sure I was aware ever existed there before.

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The sense of magic, as well as of a remote, maybe tropical island, is enhanced by Akintayo Akinbode’s and Stephen Warbeck’s evocative musical compositions, played with plaintive power by four musicians. It’s especially effective in its accompaniment to the appearances of Amara Okereke’s Ariel, an almost ever-present spirit who flies in, Peter Pan-like, and performs all her scenes mid-air. Ms Okereke has a glorious voice which makes Ariel’s songs both more meaningful and more beautiful. Ariel is bound to serve Prospero until he fulfils his promise to set her free; her moment of freedom comes when he finally releases her harness, enabling her to set foot on land.

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Also bound to Prospero, but firmly earthed to ground, Ashley Zhangazha’s Caliban cuts far from the traditional presentation of the role, as a dignified, eloquent, finely voiced chap. The joke that Miranda falls for the first decent-looking young man she ever sees (Ferdinand) doesn’t really work if she’s been around this particular Caliban for any length of time. Maybe it’s just a status thing. When Caliban decides to plot with Stephano and Trinculo to rebel against Prospero, he doesn’t come across as an equal partner in their mischief; more their superior, which only enhances Stephano and Trinculo’s foolishness.

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Ruby Stokes and Fred Woodley Evans are a superb pairing as Miranda and Ferdinand, who brighten up the stage whenever either of them comes on. Ms Stokes delightfully portrays Miranda’s innocence, albeit with the intent of not remaining innocent for much longer if she can help it. Her scenes with Kenneth Branagh are also a joy, revealing her unquenchable thirst for knowledge. As Ferdinand, Mr Evans nails that sense of slightly bumbling nobility, underpinning his inexperience, but willing to do right by all. He also brings an enjoyable naïve comedy to the role.

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Elsewhere in the cast, Ashley Zhangazha impresses as this surprisingly urbane Caliban, Henry Pettigrew gives us an amusingly snide and sarcastic Sebastian, and Paul Jesson is every inch the honest and upright Gonzalo, a beacon of goodness amongst a bunch of reprobates. Keir Charles and Guy Henry have the difficult task of making those relatively tedious scenes with Stephano and Trinculo watchable, but Mr Henry in particular does a good job of making his character of Stephano believable, with, what felt like to me, subtle elements of Kenneth Williams and Larry Grayson in his portrayal.

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But – let’s face it – the big attraction of this production in the return of Sir Kenneth Branagh to the RSC after three decades. Confession: I’ve only seen him on stage once before, when he was a 21-year-old unknown in Another Country at London’s Queen’s (now Sondheim) Theatre, and I was a 21-year-old postgraduate student researching theatre censorship. I knew at the time I was witnessing a very special performer, and if The Real Chrisparkle had existed at the time, I would have described him as One To Watch.

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What makes him so good in general, and certainly this describes his Prospero in particular, is his ability to take someone else’s words and make them his own. He works his way through Shakespeare’s text making every line sound so natural, so understandable, so fluid. Constantly changing the pace of his narrative, he will rattle through one sentence and then slowly and deliberately pick out individual words in the next sentence to linger over and savour. When Prospero ultimately forgives all the villains who have done him ill in the past, it’s Branagh’s calmness that teaches you this is the way to heal your own heart of all its injuries and sadnesses. Maybe this really was Shakespeare making his final farewell.

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At its best, this is a superb production with a masterful lead performance. Could it be better? Yes. It’s light on emotion, and surprisingly unadventurous in some technical elements. But who cares? It’s Branagh that you remember.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Driftwood, Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th May 2026

Posted on May 19, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

Martina Laird’s debut play is set in Trinidad, in 1956. British colonial rule was nearing its end as Eric Williams, founder of the People’s National Movement, started forging the path for Trinidad and Tobago to gain independence. Driftwood is set in a gentlemen’s club in the capital, Port of Spain, where Miss Pearl rules the roost together with her daughter Ruby. It’s their home, although the property actually belongs to Mansion, an aging British civil servant, who came to Trinidad in 1920 to arrange a Royal visit by Prince Edward; liked it and stayed on.

Shane David-Joseph, Ellen Thomas and Cat White

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Police officer Seldom is an irregular visitor to the club, a jokey blokey with a winning way who collects his money for turning a blind eye – or at least as much of it as Ruby thinks he deserves. This is a society where law is writ small and individuals set their own standards as to what they can get away with. No wonder that when Diamond, Pearl’s long-lost son, turns up unexpectedly, his aim is to carve himself a position within the household where he can take what he feels is his fair share of any freebies going. But is American naval officer Tom, whom he introduces to the club with the prospect of hospitality, drink, and taking Ruby to bed, the right person from whom to take a percentage of illicit proceeds?

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1956 was, as it was all over the world, a time of change, and Trinidad was a melting pot of influences. Laird delicately paints in character traits and background details, giving an insight into what life must have been like in Trinidad at that time. Many plot intrigues are touched upon, including a possible powerplay for ownership of the club once Mansion is no more, as well as a thoroughly incestuous moment between Diamond and Ruby. Such intrigues are both a strength and a weakness: a strength inasmuch as they fill out the play with hints of potentially fascinating unexplored backstory, and a weakness because, essentially, they are left dangling until they fizzle out.

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Much of the first act is slow exposition, and Driftwood takes a long time to get going properly. Justin Audibert’s direction adopts a slow pace; useful in one respect, as it gives the audience time to grow accustomed to the Trinidadian dialect spoken by the locals. However, it also means that the opening act feels very heavy and sluggish, with only occasional highlights such as the initial conversation between Diamond and Pearl, or when we first meet Tom. We go into the interval feeling that the concentration we have had to give the play hasn’t always been worth it, and it was notable how the audience applause at the interval was slight and muted. However, it comes much more to life after the interval, with an engaging second act that benefits from a stronger narrative.

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Essentially, the story boils down to Diamond’s deal with Tom and how, when Diamond doesn’t abide by the agreement, it affects the lives of everyone – primarily himself – when he ends up flying too close to the sun like Icarus. Despite his bravura and confidence, Diamond is revealed to be a small fish who has only just learned to swim in a very big sea.

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Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey has designed a very compact and intimate set, resulting in largely wasted areas Stage Right and Left, and is also positioned extremely highly, meaning anyone in the first few rows (and The Other Place is not a big theatre) has to look up a lot. However, she has created some fantastic costumes for the show – all Ruby’s dresses are perfect for every occasion and make a great contrast with Pearl’s dour outfits. Christella Litras’ music, ably performed unseen by Leroy Johnson and Todd Brand, is evocative and helps set the scene and mood.

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The performances are all very good and certainly help lift the play. Cat White is immensely watchable as Ruby, using her very expressive face to help us understand all the character’s emotions. Ellen Thomas’ Pearl is a superb portrayal of someone resigned to a life of pain and underachievement, a no-nonsense parent weary of her responsibilities. Martins Imhangbe creates an imposing figure on stage as Diamond, a chancer always on the lookout for an opportunity, surprisingly fragile in a world that’s more robust than he imagined.

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Roger Ringrose gives a very entertaining performance as Mansion, flaunting his white privilege and moneyed education, the kind of man who has never had any doubts about his life because why would he? Shane David-Joseph uses his natural comic ability to great effect as the shifty and quirky officer Seldom, and Ziggy Heath gives a lively performance as Tom, arrogantly manspreading, calling the shots, and giving no ground.

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On the upside, this is a well-acted production of a play set in a time and place that rarely gets any attention from British dramatists; consequently, much of the material and background feels fresh and new. On the downside, the play could do with some editing and tidying up, perhaps injecting a little more humour and pace. But, as a first play, Martina Laird shows great promise and may well become an emerging voice of the future. After it finishes its run at Stratford, Driftwood transfers to London’s Kiln Theatre from 4th June to 4th July 2026.

Three-sy Does It!

Review – The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 21st April 2026

Posted on April 22, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

Bertolt Brecht’s scathing satire on the rise of Hitler, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui was originally written in 1941, with an expected first production to take place in the United States. However, it was considered too politically sensitive for a producer to risk, and the play didn’t receive its premiere until 1958, two years after Brecht’s death, when it was produced in Stuttgart. The play remained relatively unknown in the UK until Leonard Rossiter played the role in 1967.

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Brecht’s Ui is seen as a small-time Chicago gangster, engineering a takeover of the city’s greengrocery trade by conning and terrorising the members of the Cauliflower Trust. Ui’s ambitions know no bounds, and before long he’s manipulating all of Chicago, and eventually has his target on the neighbouring city of Cicero – and probably beyond. In Stephen Sharkey’s new translation, not only is the resemblance of Ui to Hitler unmistakable, both in Mark Gatiss’ extraordinary physical characterisation and in his modus operandi, but an account of Hitler’s rise to power is told, factually and emotionlessly, by cast members as each scene concludes. Each of Brecht’s original fifteen scenes represents a true event in the rise of Nazi Germany between 1929 and 1938; and, much as Orwell did with Animal Farm, Brecht’s characters can easily be identified with their German Nazi originals. Ui is Hitler, Giri is Goering, Givola is Goebbels, Dogsborough Hindenburg, and so on.

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As there are now relatively few people who can remember the Second World War, let alone Germany in the 1930s, it’s worthwhile doing a history lesson to appreciate just how clever a satire Brecht’s play is. And in these perilous times, where far right populism is gaining a foothold all over the world – including here in the UK – Brecht’s salutary tale, or, in his words, parable play, feels more appropriate than ever. The last words of the text warn the audience: the bitch that bore him is in heat again. Nothing if not perspicacious, Brecht.

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Stephen Sharkey’s smart new translation keeps all the original characterisations and storylines, wisely avoiding a desire to update them, and maintains Brecht’s delicious balance between poetry and prose. The production also achieves the near-impossible task of preserving all Brecht’s trademark distancing effects, whilst still making the play flow naturally; aided in this by Georgia Lowe’s excellent and effective set. Having an LED banner on stage, proudly describing the show as part of the RSC’s current season from the start, instantly sets the tone of artificial theatricality and is the perfect backdrop for Mawaan Rizwan’s delightfully subversive opening introduction.

©Marc Brenner

Robbie Butler’s lighting design also enhances the theatricality, perhaps at its most audacious during the extended crowd massacre scene which then transforms magically into a floral display at Givola’s flower shop. Georgia Lowe’s costumes also help to define the characters, from the sharp-suited members of the Cauliflower Trust, Dockdaisy’s outrageous flamenco dress, Giri’s clown outfit, and of course Ui, who transforms slowly from a down-at-heel wretch in worn out clothes, to a functioning but tasteless suit and eventually to full Nazi uniform and regalia. Richie Hart’s four-piece band deliver Placebo’s music with style and expression, emphasising both the unease and the horror of what unfolds on stage.

©Marc Brenner

The cast are tremendous throughout. With only three of the actors taking on just one role, there is much doubling-up which emphasises the wide scope of the play whilst still keeping the storytelling crisp and clear. Kadiff Kirwan proves his incredible versatility, having been a suave and nifty Sky Masterson in Sheffield’s Guys and Dolls a few years ago, with a powerful and aggressive performance as Ui’s friend (does he really have friends?) Roma. L J Parkinson gives a great performance as the devious Givola, providing a subtly ruthless and unsettling presence on stage.

©Marc Brenner

The wonderful Janie Dee particularly excels in her portrayal of Betty Dullfeet, being the perfect “first lady” of Cicero who thinks she can hold her own against Ui but is duped and ends up with his emblem on her armband. You want to shout out Where’s Your Self-Respect! at her as she accepts her fate, and by implication the annexation of Austria. Mawaan Rizwan is hugely entertaining throughout as both the Barker and the slippery Giri, eerily collecting the hats of all the people he’s murdered, making the audience laugh at those things that we really shouldn’t find funny.

©Marc Brenner

The always reliable Christopher Godwin impresses as Dogsborough, caught up in his own corruption and regretting his actions when it’s too late – and provides a hilarious cameo as the pompous actor, teaching Ui how to sit, walk and present himself. Rebekah Hinds is also hilarious as the extravagant, back-chatting Dockdaisy, Amanda Wilkin gives a very convincing performance as Clark, Joe Alessi is the assertive Butcher and suspicious Dullfeet, and Mahesh Parmar gives us a delightfully childish Dogsborough’s son. But the entire cast and ensemble all turn in performances of great commitment and flair.

©Marc Brenner

It is, however, Mark Gatiss who dominates proceedings with his remarkable performance as Arturo Ui; a sinister, slimy, heartless, calculating portrayal of pure evil that rises from the mire and rules by fear and a warped charisma. Never played for comic effect, as it easily could be, perhaps his most gut-wrenching moment is when seducing Betty into believing him he licks her face – you could feel the audience shudder as one. It’s never an impersonation of Hitler, but Gatiss somehow merges himself with Hitler and Ui into one horribly believable and convincing villain. It’s a performance no one will forget in a hurry.

©Marc Brenner

85 years since it was written, Brecht’s extraordinary play continues to demonstrate the ease with which a society can fall under the spell of the evillest of minds. Ui walks among us. We can see him emerging; indeed, we may even already know his identity. It isn’t too late to resist, although one day it may be, which is the message of the production. Indeed, the production begs us, empowers us and orders us to resist – and it’s vital that we do. A superlative production, and one that is a privilege to have witnessed, it continues at Stratford’s Swan Theatre until 30^th May.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Henry V, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 24th March 2026

Posted on March 25, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

O for a Muse of Fire is the traditional opening for Shakespeare’s Henry V, as the Chorus apologises to the audience for the writer’s and the production’s inevitable inadequacies at representing the vasty fields of France and the casques that did affright the air at Agincourt. But in RSC co-Artistic Director Tamara Harvey’s new production, it starts with a cheeky flashback to Act Four (not even Act Five) of Henry IV Part Two, which has been scissored and stitched together to reveal the seemingly late king lying in state whilst the new king Henry V tries his crown on for size, only for his father to wake from his slumber and shame his son for his impatience.

There’s no doubting it’s a good joke and it reveals how keen Henry V is to get on with it. But you can already tell this production is probably not for purists. Shakespeare structures the play around the Chorus for a good reason, as a conduit between the scenes, and playing with that structure has its perils. It’s Henry V himself who, for the most part, takes on the role of Chorus, whose lines integrate, again for the most part, nicely with what the king wants to say. Not always: it does, for example, sound clumsily arrogant for Henry to deliver the Chorus’ famous reference to a little touch of Harry in the night. The Chorus’ introduction to Act Two explains that the traitors Cambridge Scroop and Grey will be getting their come-uppance; by removing that speech the revelation of their treachery comes as an unexpected surprise which wrongfoots your understanding of what’s happened so far and feels disjointed. However, their punishment by hanging is splendidly done and is a surprisingly mesmerising piece of visual theatre.

That’s at the heart of what’s wrong with this production. Visually it’s very impactful, with an enormous amount of activity on stage, with specially recruited supernumeraries from local colleges and universities to give the impression of the large number of people it takes to wage a war. Their performance of Annie-Lunnette Deakin-Foster’s movement direction and Kate Waters’ fight direction is vividly and immaculately done, from preparing ropes and cloths on the revolving scaffold (a very smart set design by Lucy Osborne) to opposing armies going at it, hammer and tongs.

It’s all very watchable; however, it frequently detracts from the words that are being spoken and takes your attention away from the main matter of the text, sometimes devaluing it so that it interferes with your understanding of the play. The production sacrifices clarity for spectacle; and the one thing that you really want from a Shakespeare production is properly to understand what’s going on. It must be a deliberate directorial decision to make the English and French soldiers indistinguishable from each other, thereby making the point that they’re all human, they all endure suffering and, basically, they’re all the same. But that can be confusing for the audience – and it’s not true to Shakespeare’s own words. The victorious Henry reads out the numbers of French dead – 10,000 – versus the numbers of English dead – 25. If anything emphasises the inequality of the soldiers, it’s that.

Another element of the spectacle is the surreal slow-motion movement of the ensemble as they walk across the stage or lean at perilous angles in order to hear important conversations. It made me wonder, at what point does being stylised become being pretentious? This production doesn’t always manage to stay on the right side of that dividing line. For me, that powerful speech where the king reads the numbers of the dead was ruined by the over-dramatic death swoons of cast members; beautifully executed no doubt, but almost laughable in its pretentiousness.

In fact, for all its visual enaction of the horrors of war, the production remains totally – and perhaps figuratively – bloodless. None of the sword wounds or battle bombardments ever requires the props department to fetch the tomato sauce. And why do they end the first Act leaving the first word of the second Act – Now – hanging in the air as if Henry has accidentally mistimed his cue by twenty minutes? I fear that some of the content of this production is there just because they can rather than because there’s a good reason for it.

Nevertheless, there are some excellent staging choices. The otherwise bland “English lesson” scene where Princess Katherine – Natalie Kimmerling on brilliant form – learns the English words for parts of the body is transformed by having her walking among the fields of the wounded and jiggling their agonised limbs to learn the words for their various body parts. That’s probably the funniest (and maybe sickest) presentation of that scene for many a year.

Ewan Wardrop, Paul Hunter and Emmanuel Olusanya

The performances are largely extremely good, with some of the minor roles excelling; Jamie Ballard is superb throughout, as the self-important Archbishop of Canterbury, mildly foppish and manic but then devastated in grief King of France, and perhaps best of all, as the soldier Williams, whose frank and challenging battlefield conversation with the man who turns out to be King has significant consequences. Paul Hunter brings fantastic bombast and pomposity to the role of Pistol, picking and nicking his way among the dead; Ewan Wardrop and Emmanuel Olunsanya are also excellent as his partners in crime Nym and Bardolph, whose parts are sadly rather cut out of this production.

Catrin Aaron brings a simple practicality to the role of Queen Isabel and provides an early highlight in the play as a wonderful Mistress Quickly. Tanvi Virmani impresses as The Girl, the hanger-on who comes to realise there’s more to life than just revelry. There’s also excellent support from Valentine Hanson as a dignified Henry IV and Erpingham, Sam Parks as Westmoreland, Sarah Slimani as the no-nonsense herald Montjoy, and Diany Samba-Bandza as a flirtatious Lady Scroop. Michael Elcock’s Dauphin strangely lacks the quirkiness to make him stand out as a fop – the whole tennis balls gift scene is surprisingly underplayed – or the gravitas to make him a credible ruler-in-waiting. However, Micah Balfour is outstanding as the noble Exeter, perfect as both soldier and courtier.

Alfred Enoch plays the title role; he looks the part, he speaks with authority and grandeur and can deliver a stirring speech whilst making it sound natural rather than proclaimed, which is an enviable gift. There isn’t much sense of character development, however. Henry V has a lot to learn about life, having been largely a wastrel in his Prince Hal days, too much under the influence of Falstaff. He has to learn to be statesmanlike, to be an inspirational leader, to be ruthless in quashing opponents, to be a battlefield mastermind, to be magnanimous in victory – and also how to woo a lady. But Mr Enoch’s tone and delivery is pretty much straightforward and unwavering throughout, as if he’s trying to be all those things all the time. This one size fits all approach means that it largely succeeds but occasionally you’d like a little more nuance.

A solid and visually impactful production but it’s low on clarity and, unless you’re intimately well acquainted with the text, not always easy to follow. At the start, the Prologue tells us that we the audience have to work hard to use our imaginations to fill out the swelling scene because it’s beyond the actors’ ability; but then this busy production tries to do the very thing that Shakespeare tells us it can’t achieve, and Shakespeare was right all along. Henry V continues his reign at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 25^th April.

Three-sy Does It!

Review – The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 19th February 2026

Posted on February 20, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Tyler Fayose

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind is the true story of the remarkable William Kamkwamba, who, as a schoolboy living in the poor, drought-stricken village of Wimbe in Malawi, created a windmill out of junk and scraps, thus bringing electricity and water to his community. His story first became known through his blog, then a book, then a film made by Chiwetel Ejiofor, and now it’s a musical, with book and lyrics by Richy Hughes and music and lyrics by Tim Sutton.

©Tyler Fayose

An inspiring tale about an inspiring young man; and who can resist a stirring story about succeeding against all the odds? His farmer father and his friends all think he is deluded to believe that he can achieve the impossible – but William’s determination and hard work pay off. But this is no simple, Cinderella-style rags to riches story. The toughness, indeed brutality, of the setting is never far away. As the drought kicks in, and food is scarce, William’s constant companion, the stray dog Khamba, dies of starvation. When the village Chief dares to question the methods of political leader Bakili Muluzi, he is beaten up for his pains.

©Tyler Fayose

And whilst William spends his time tinkering with old bits of machinery, developing the fascination for engineering that will eventually lead to success, his father is furious that, at the ripe old age of 13, he is not toiling the fields alongside him, harvesting the maize that will provide at least some form of income and food for the family. There’s a powerful scene where the farmers are working rigorously together on the fields whilst the boys get in their way, engrossed in understanding how a radio works; each set of characters antagonising the other with their opposing priorities. With hindsight, clearly William and his friends were on the right track – but hindsight is a wonderful thing and doesn’t put food on the table.

©Tyler Fayose

Frankie Bradshaw’s set shows Wimbe as an unremarkable village with basic accommodation, offset by a glorious sky. Traps open up from the stage floor to reveal the dry, dusty track of field at which William’s father Trywell relentlessly works. The costumes are evocative of rural Malawi, with a rather smart cloak for the Chief, and colourful but meagre clothing for the rest of the village – although I did think that some of those trainers were perhaps a little stylish and chic for the setting. The lighting, sound and video all combine to give a strong impression of the challenging weather conditions, with some very effective raindrop splashes on the surface of the stage.

©Tyler Fayose

The likeable, gifted cast belt out Tim Sutton’s tunes with true gusto, creating some tremendous harmonies and goosebump-inducing sequences, although 90% of it is delivered at supercharged fortissimo volume; there’s no denying it, this is, overall, a very loud show. With a couple of notable exceptions, the songs are, however, incidental to the narrative; undeniably, they add flavour and colour, but they halt the progress of the story rather than drive it forward. Also, given that the story deals with very serious issues – poverty, starvation, malaria, corruption to name but four – I found it surprising that some of the characterisations were pantomime-silly; very effectively done but detracting from the seriousness of the work.

©Tyler Fayose

The lead roles, however, are superbly well performed; McCallam Connell brings marvellous authority to the role of the Chief, making his untimely end even more impactful. Tsemaye Bob-Egbe and Owen Chaponda bring a delightful romance to the roles as Annie, William’s sister and Mr Kachigunda, his teacher, with William performing an engaging Go-Between role between the two of them. Idriss Kargbo brings an element of cheeky vanity to the role of Gilbert Mofat, William’s best friend, and Madeline Appiah is excellent as Agnes, his mother, determined to bring her children up in the modern style; her recovery from malaria is one of the show’s most heartwarming moments.

©Tyler Fayose

Alistair Nwachukwu is terrific as William, showing superb comic timing as well as a true feel for the emotions of the piece; an embodiment of quiet resilience and determination through thick and thin. For me, the stand-out performance is by Sifiso Mazibuko as William’s father Trywell, battered by contrasting needs and wishes, a traditional, honest fellow just trying to do his best. Sutton and Hughes give him the best song of the night, This I Know, a soaring ballad of epic proportions that wouldn’t be out of place in Les Mis.

©Tyler Fayose

Despite all these excellent elements, aspects of the show didn’t quite work for me. The staging is sometimes cluttered, even chaotic, with too many people on stage at the same time, especially in the big musical/dance numbers; and sometimes the ebullience and enthusiasm of what’s going on simply descends into what feels like an uncontrolled mess. Also, it’s way too long – three hours including the interval – and although it tells the story clearly, it also tells it very slowly! The slow pace strangely diminished the emotional aspect of the story and I found myself surprisingly unmoved by some of those moments clearly meant to give you a lump in the throat.

©Tyler Fayose

That said, the show does come to a triumphant conclusion with the assembly of the windmill and the switching-on of the lights, and it would be a hard-hearted person who didn’t share in the moment of victory as William and Trywell mount the steps up to the top of the windmill to partake in its glory. Certainly, Messrs Nwachukwu and Mazibuko were fighting back the emotions (not entirely successfully!) at the end. But maybe that’s because they knew that Mr Nwachukwu was to bring on the real-life William Kamkwamba to join them on stage for the final bows – and that was undoubtedly a moment to treasure.

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind plays at the Swan Theatre until 28^th March, and then it transfers to the Soho Place in London from 25^th April to 18^th July.

Three-sy Does It!

Review – All is But Fantasy, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 4th February 2026

Posted on February 5, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

Arresting, challenging and innovative, Whitney White’s All is But Fantasy blasts the stage of the RSC’s Other Place like a subversive hurricane, tossing out ideas and insights as debris in its wake. Whitney White speaks with passion and conviction of her love for Shakespeare that started at an early age and has become unstoppable, and she is obviously thrilled to be performing her play at the heart of Shakespeare Country in Stratford-upon-Avon.

©Marc Brenner

It’s an ambitious project and it’s clear to see that Ms White herself is an ambitious person – and if that includes playing Richard III, sobeit. She’s certainly not content with being just the maid or playing one of the roles that inevitably gets cut. What disturbs her is that all Shakespeare’s strong women never seem to make it to Act Five. Their ambitions, their dreams, their potential, never get to full fruition – and Ms White says it’s time she did something about it.

©Marc Brenner

All is But Fantasy – that must be a quote from Shakespeare, no? Well, actually not quite. But Whitney White certainly had fantasy in mind when she created this two-part gig-theatre production, examining four of Shakespeare’s iconic characters from a fresh, new perspective. She takes the formidable Lady Macbeth, Emilia (from Othello), Juliet and Richard III out of their natural environment and places them centre stage in a rock gig. Actors playing instruments on stage is now commonplace, but the concept of placing them in a live concert is something else.

©Marc Brenner

But there’s much more to this than some kind of elaboration on Six. Accompanied by her protective posse of three witches – that’s how they’re described in the programme, don’t blame me – White delves deeper into who these women really are, what they represent, and the assumptions made about them over centuries of men being in charge, particularly in respect of the problems that black women additionally face when tackling Shakespeare’s works. For me, the most exciting aspect of the two productions is that they allow you – indeed encourage you – to question everything you know about Shakespeare’s work and characters. Who, for example, when asked is Othello a good play, would dare reply no? To be fair, at yesterday’s performance we all agreed that Othello is a good play, but it made me think again of those assumptions that have indoctrinated us through our English Literature lessons and the general received wisdom of the years.

©Marc Brenner

You could watch both plays in either order, but to get the deepest understanding of what’s going on, definitely start with Part One – Lady Macbeth and Emilia. Whitney White sets the informal tone right from the start, instantly breaking the fourth wall, introducing us to the other cast members, and explaining what has led her to this point. At times it feels like a Dramaturgy Group Therapy Session, with everyone chipping in their thoughts as to where the emphases should lie and which risks to take. There’s also a lightly suggested ongoing narrative about the relationships between the cast members as well as the parts they’re playing. It’s not quite at Kiss Me Kate levels, but it adds an entertaining side intrigue.

©Marc Brenner

The productions constantly reveal fresh insights into Shakespeare’s characters, not just those named in the titles of the four separate playlets. Iago making sexist and racist jokes is an outstandingly uncomfortable moment but gives us a terrific glimpse of what he would be like in the 21^st century. Juliette Crosbie sweeps on stage as Desdemona, her style, costume and confidence channelling full-on 1960s Marianne Faithfull. Whilst Whitney White finds it hard to get under the skin of Juliet, again needing Ms Crosbie to provide a shadow Juliet to use as a theatrical template, Daniel Krikler, the only man in the company, shows us how he learns what it is to become Romeo. When the gender roles are reversed in the final sequence, Richard III, what primarily comes across is that it doesn’t matter which gender plays which part, it’s the individual characterisations and motivations that count.

©Marc Brenner

Soutra Gilmour has wisely left a largely empty set for the actors, with the addition of simple but very effective elements to create context – a red carpet for Macbeth’s banquet, a coffin for Richard III, and a playground climbing frame to suggest both Juliet’s balcony and the playfulness of the youngsters who find themselves at the heart of that particular tragedy. Ryan Day’s lighting design is also simple but extremely effective in adding atmosphere and tension.

©Marc Brenner

It’s full of theatrical brilliance; a surprise gunshot at one point terrifies the life out of both the cast and the audience, Romeo betrays the thrill at getting close to Juliet by excitedly cavorting on her climbing frame, White’s supporting crowd surprise us when they turn on her for making it all about her, and there’s an unexpected disappointment for musician Nick Lee when Macbeth loses it at the banquet.

©Marc Brenner

And I haven’t mentioned the music! It’s more a play with music than a musical, but Tom Knowles and his band of four do a splendid job with not only White’s songs but also the frequently sinister incidental music that just hovers ominously in the background. The tunes are enjoyable and atmospheric, although the lyrics have a tendency towards being repetitious, occasionally hammering home their message without subtlety – but then, what do I know, I’m no rock expert.

©Marc Brenner

The cast are uniformly excellent – Renee Lamb, Georgina Onuorah, Timmika Ramsay, Juliette Crosbie and Daniel Krikler are a constant delight with all that attitude, humour, and the essential mix of strength and vulnerability that is at the core of humanity. Their vocals are outstanding and each lends their own power and individuality to every characterisation. And, at the heart of it all, Whitney White holds the whole show together with a must-see performance of voice, presence, integrity and sheer wow factor.

©Marc Brenner

Despite its best intentions – maybe even because of it – All is But Fantasy is an uneven piece, with the clarity and insights of Lady Macbeth and Emilia diminishing to the point where Richard III sometimes feels messy and hard to follow. Teeming with ideas, nevertheless, it leaves you teeming with ideas of your own, sparking your own debate about these characters and the relationship between Tudor/Jacobean Shakespeare and his 21st-century counterpart. A thrilling and endlessly surprising subversion of traditional Shakespearean opinions, performed with true heart and commitment.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

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!