Sally Cookson’s The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe is a visual and auditory feast that captures the magic of C.S. Lewis’ beloved novel, but struggles to fully embody the depth and complexity that make the story so poignant. Despite its dazzling stagecraft, this adaptation simplifies the narrative into something less profound than its source material.
From the moment the audience steps into the auditorium, the production establishes its ethereal and nostalgic tone. A lone soldier under a single spotlight plays war tunes on the piano, setting the historical backdrop of World War II. A period-appropriate announcement urges spectators to turn off their phones before a chorus of musicians floods the stage, launching into Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again. The Pevensie children—Peter (Jesse Dunbar), Susan (Joanna Adaran), Edmund (Bunmi Osadolor), and Lucy (Kudzai Mangombe)—are introduced with well-drawn characteristics: mature Peter, sensible Susan, sweet Lucy, and a grumpy, conflicted Edmund.
Their evacuation to Aberdeen is cleverly depicted using a miniature train manoeuvred puppet-style, and this puppetry continues throughout the production in delightful ways. The animals of Narnia are a hybrid of actor and puppet, creating a whimsical yet immersive world. The wolves, played by actors, are grotesque and scuttling, with Maugrim (Emmanuel Ogunjinmi) a particularly terrifying blend of robotic and feral menace.
The magic of Narnia is brought to life through stunning visual moments. Props disappear in the blink of an eye, a whole sitting room appears as if from thin air, and the streetlamp—iconic to any fan of the book—emerges from within the piano in a breathtaking reveal. The circular cut-out centre stage becomes a dramatic portal, enhancing key moments of transformation and peril. The theatrical ingenuity continues with the raggedy cat, Schrödinger, guiding Lucy to the wardrobe. The actor-musician ensemble adds texture to the world with their immense skill. Jez Unwin’s Mr. Tumnus is a particular highlight, bringing warmth and depth to the gentle faun.
However, not all elements are as successful. Aslan, meant to be a towering and noble presence, is rendered in an oddly half-executed way. A beautifully carved wooden head and forelegs suggest grandeur, but the illusion is shattered by the clearly human hind legs. The choice to have the actor voicing Aslan also serving as the primary focus for interactions leaves the audience questioning the necessity of the partial puppet.
While the production flourishes in its enchanting aesthetics, it falters in storytelling. The lack of a strong backdrop and the limited cast size dampen key moments, most notably the climactic battle. Instead of an epic clash, it feels like a minor skirmish, with only a single attacker sneaking towards the children. Similarly, the emotional weight of Aslan’s sacrifice and resurrection is rushed; the moment passes too quickly for the audience to truly absorb his loss and triumphant return.
Cookson’s signature directorial touches—such as aerial work and inventive use of white sheets—lend a homespun magic to the piece. There are standout theatrical moments, including a striking transformation of the White Witch, played with commanding menace by Samantha Womack. Even smaller details, like a sneeze producing flowers, bring a delightful eccentricity.
Ultimately, this adaptation of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe enchants with its visual ingenuity and strong performances but simplifies Lewis’ complex allegory into something more shallow. While magical in parts, it never fully captures the emotional resonance that makes the novel a timeless classic.
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is at The Curve until 8th February 2025, https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/the-lion-the-witch-and-the-wardrobe-3/
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Katie Reviews 