Review by Simon Jenner, March 12th 2025
75 years on, it’s remarkable how a convoluted Christian allegory for children written by an Oxford academic of Elizabethan poetry, has survived numerous adaptations and conquered the West End. But then C.S. Lewis was a close friend of J. R.R. Tolkien, and there’s magic rubbed from musty rooms, rings and wardrobes. Based on Sally Cookson’s original production, C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe arrives at the Theatre Royal Brighton directed by Michael Fentiman till March 15th. It then continues touring till returning to London at Sadler’s Wells.
Joanna Adaran (Susan) Bunmi Osadolor (Edmund) Kudzai Mangombe (Lucy) Andrew Davison (Schroedinger). Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Published in 1950, Lewis sets his first Narnia novel in the war and it’s faithfully replicated as onstage pianist Joe Keenan performs a period medley till the ensemble arrive. Our refugees are sent to a big old Scottish house (cue much fun with a train and lighted windows) with a kindly professor (a spry, puckish Kraig Thornber) who knows far more than the children imagine. That’s with his cat Schrodinger (solution: he’s alive as a puppet!) and bleak housekeeper (Molly Francis). They soon discover a world through a wardrobe.
Just as those wardrobe doors fly off, there’s some magical work with Shanelle ‘Tali’ Fergus’ choreography as well as a few baggier moments later on. Spectacle here is as fluid in its way as the National’s marvellous Ballet Shoes. This touring version is necessarily lower tech, but particularly with the tenebrous opening, it rivals that show’s magic. The Narnia effects too and puppetry are remarkable, though a couple of scenes hang fire, because catching the tone of Lewis here is tricky. A Father Christmas scene should have proved more vibrant (no faulting Thornber’s performance here though). Lewis’ religious pirouettes here prove more mist than mythos. It might have been easier for Aslan to bear gifts instead. Sacrilege! But tighter theatre.
Joanna Adaran’s clear and truthful Susan is a delight in a slightly underwritten part; Jesse Dunbar’s emerging authority as Peter shines through in Act Two; Kuzai Mangombe’s winning and characterful Lucy enjoys most of the affect and radiates discovery; and Bunmi Osadolor’s able to transform the squallish, childish Edmund into a boy of stature.
Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Stanton Wright’s Aslan is hugely authoritative. He carries his allegorical presence well, and speaks quietly: you listen to what he says. Wright has huge charisma and will certainly shine in larger parts. Katy Stephens already famed for RSC and Globe appearances, is perfectly attuned to the White Witch, having played in bloodier things (helming the Globe’s 2023 Titus Andronicus which resorted to chopping candles instead of people though). What’s striking is that Stephens sings beautifully, as she does to terrific effect in closing Act One.
There’s delightful vignettes. Alfie Richards’ faun Mr Tumnus, fearful and courageous, also sings to great effect and appeal. He extends this to his over-talkative Badger, though Ed Thorpe’s Mr Badger is the great twitterer, shushed by Anya de Villiers’ Mrs Badger: who exudes sassiness and command, and is yet another character called on to sing; whereas major characters bar White Witch don’t.
After Rae Smith’s original set and costumes, Tom Paris has taken over: the 1940s khaki and tin hats (German ones are used in Narnia for reasons that become obvious) give way to big house Shabitat and through Narnia the puppet animals (originated by Max Humphries) and phantasmagoria, with Aslan as the climactic spectacle. Thinka sort of War Horse affect with a cone, that roars.
The music by Barnaby Race and Benji Power yields a couple of memorable numbers, particularly ‘A Hundred Years of Snow’ (musical direction Ben Goddard Young). But it’s the ensemble-writing with folk-inflections that’s so catchy. Here there’s not just singing but so many cast-members play instruments (Aslan wields a guitar), proving them super-talented: West End standard.
Jack Knowles is known for spectral lighting with coronas and eerie presence. There’s quite a bit of that here as Knowles sculpts and gulphs spaces on an often-bare stage. Tom Marshall’s sound (that roar) ensures a crisp envelope, and Gwen Hales’ aerial direction makes you think Slava’s Snow Show is back early.
Katy Stephens and Bunmi Osadolor. Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Kraig Thornber. Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Through a dizzying plot around Barbara Grant’s possible firing and her determination to survive, it’s Turner who first realises the enemy who fist threatens Norma maybe isn’t one. And there’s reasons for that too. Turner (like Green, an American making her BLT debut) shifts from the homemaker, subtly managed by Norma’s career, to an awakening. But can she persuade Norma? The quartet’s conscience, Turner goes through more gear-changes than anyone in the play.
Excellent at showing someone ingenious who hits a wall when taken out of his box, Green hums benign command. He’s required to make speeches edgily pitched comparing themselves to minorities; Turner too. It firmly sets even enlightened gay people with prejudices. Purtin-Ball, most junior, most vulnerable, chafes visibly and makes his fright clear.
Steven Adams’ otherwise beautifully observed Washington set is symbolically lavender, as the dominant two tones even give off to the mesmerically authentic shrubbery outside the front door. Beverley Grover’s witty lighting highlights whenever one character gives out a recipe like an early TV ad. And arresting choices of music where Guys and Dolls’ ‘Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat’ gives way, singularly at the end to Mary Drake.
Another BLT debutante, Chinn – describes the call (as I couldn’t possibly) for “a bitchy, over-sexed woman of a certain age from Montreal” as “finally a chance to play a role that requires absolutely no acting.” That is of course rubbish. But it conveys Chinn’s temper: a superb comedian but formidable. Telegraphing acerbic wit and a swirl to own the room, Chinn also tries honest desperation. Everyone sacked (thousands) can never work again in this climate, and maybe have nothing to lose; crucially nothing invested in a state that shows them no loyalty.
Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Jesse Dunbar (Peter) Stanton Wright (Aslan). Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
Beyond their musicianship, the huge multi-roling cast glints out at certain moments, as Rhiannon Hopkins as Mrs Chutney evacuee organiser turns into a Blue Badger and co-captains the music. Shane Antony-Whitely’s sinister Maugrim hits all the nasty spots, Ffion Haf’s Miss Gumley-Warmley fusses and Archie Combe’s Mr Pope is subsumed by Foxtrot the spry animal. Rhodri Watkins takes various small parts but helms the puppeteering.
The ensemble’s completed by Andrew Davison, principally Schrodinger the Cat and one of Aslan’s puppeteers, Ruby Greenwood, JB Maya, Oliver Magor, Luca Moscardni.
This is a highly recommendable, often magical touring version of a new classic adaptation. Quite often this is outstanding theatre: spectacle, characterisation, theatrical story-telling. It’s probably a few minutes too long, and Lewis has posed problems that might be better subsumed. But that’s small beside the huge accomplishment and spectacle now on your doorstep, if you’re on the tour list. Why wait for London prices and rail fares?
Associate Director Pip Minnithorpe, Wig, Hair & Makeup Designer Susanna Peretz, Musical Supervisor Barnaby Race, Live Orchestrations Barnaby Race and Samuel Wilson, Magic and Illusions Chris Fisher, Fight Director Jonathan Holby, Production Manager Phoebe Bath, Associate Director and Associate Property Director Oliver Grant, Associate Lighting Designer Emily Irish, Associate Sound Designer Paul Allen, Associate Movement Director Jasmin Colangelo, Associate Magic and Illusion Spooky Nyman, Associate Fight Director Owain Gwynn, Original designer Rae Smith, Original Puppetry Design Max Humphries, Original Puppetry Direction Toby Olié
Casting Will Burton CDG, Original Movement Director Dan Canham, Original Sound Design Ian Dickinson and Gareth Tucker, Original Writer in the Room and Dramaturg Adam Peck.
Jesse Dunbar (Peter) Katy Stephens (The White Witch). Photo Credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
