Music: Benji Bower and Barnaby Race
Writer: C S Lewis
Adaptor: Sally Cookson
Director: Michael Fentiman
This stage version of C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe is now in its eighth year. It’s instantly recognisable by its multicoloured illustration of Aslan, the lion, on its poster. This is a true multidisciplinary, ensemble recreation of the classic children’s story. It brings together elements from multiple theatrical sources, creating an impressionistic experience in a way only theatre can.
The play opens with a very dark mood as the Second World War looms all around and our young protagonists are about to become evacuees. Indeed, this is a production with much darkness, sometimes literally, which only serves to make its final light brighter.
Music plays a vital role in the production. Many of the cast are skilled musicians who play a wide range of instruments live on stage, enhancing the telling of the story. The music ranges from progressive folk rock, sometimes with Gallic influences, through to a minimalist underscoring of dramatic scenes. It’s often energetic and exciting, as is Dan Canham’s choreography: at times, the story is told through contemporary dance. The journey through the wardrobe is a prime example, as the revolving wardrobe becomes a sea of dancing fur coats, illustrating our young protagonist’s journey into Narnia.
This really is the hallmark of the show. How do we solve the next seemingly insoluble problem with imagination and theatre conventions? The show is multimedia without ever being obviously digital. In many ways, it’s quite old-fashioned and low-tech, but still feels very modern.
Some of the storytelling relies on stage conjuring. In another show, this would be a series of cabaret set pieces leading to their final prestige. Here, they integrate seamlessly and are part of the storytelling problem-solving, as people disappear before our very eyes and things burst into flame with the wave of a wand.
The glue that holds the show together is Jack Knowles’ lighting design. He never quite lets us see into the corners of the very effective minimalist set. Something is always slightly hidden. We can see just enough to fire our imagination, an imagination guided by Barnaby Race and Benji Bower’s foreboding underscoring. In some ways, that’s the production’s partial solution to the problem of recreating this magical world; we, the audience, do some of the imaginative work ourselves.
The two big beasts of the show, one quite literally, are the White Witch, played by understudy Ffion Haf, and Aslan, portrayed by Stanton Wright. Wright has the gravitas that Haf doesn’t quite achieve. The White Witch really ought to be frighteningly cold and powerful: while she looks spectacular, and her choreography is power-enhancing, there just isn’t that dangerous spark to the character. Wright’s Aslan has exactly the right quality you’d want in the lion, with his rich voice and Nordic Son-of-God-like appearance. But in some ways, this detracts from Max Humphries’ spectacular, larger-than-life lion puppet, which sometimes fades into the background, overpowered by Wright’s presence and Michael Fentiman’s direction. This is one problem that isn’t quite fully resolved.
However, this is a truly ensemble piece, and the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Everyone gives a good account of themselves in all their many roles and guises, whether as dancers, puppeteers, musicians, or the classic characters many of the audience already know and love. The show is magical right from the start. It creates a slightly surreal world from the outset, which, counterintuitively, makes it easier for them to take us into the magical world of Narnia, where you really will believe it’s winter.
This is what theatre was made to do. Go and see this magical show.
Runs until 11 October 2025 and on tour
