As someone who spent a good portion of their childhood half-convinced there might be a secret world hiding at the back of the wardrobe, this production was always going to land somewhere between nostalgia and reverence. And I’m pleased to say, it hit the mark beautifully.
Michael Fentiman’s production, adapted from Sally Cookson’s earlier version, is a rich, often dazzling journey into Narnia and one that balances spectacle and substance with real flair.
From the opening bars of We’ll Meet Again, underscoring the siblings’ evacuation from London, it’s clear this is not simply a children’s story. There’s grit in the frame, a proper wartime darkness that lends weight to the fantasy. It’s still magic – of course it is – but the stakes feel real.
The visual storytelling is a triumph. Tom Paris’s set design is inventive and bold: a vast clock face looms over the stage, reminding us of time’s passing in both worlds. It’s more than clever, it’s genuinely moving at times, especially when figures emerge from the clock’s centre at moments of emotional crisis. Jack Knowles’s lighting carries us from the shadowy corners of a Scottish country house to the vast, snowbound wilderness of Narnia with eerie elegance, and the transitions – often done in seconds – are a marvel.
The four central performances are solid. Kudzai Mangombe as Lucy is luminous, entirely believable as the youngest and most curious of the Pevensie children. Bunmi Osadolor handles Edmund’s journey from petulant sibling to repentant hero with considerable range, and Jesse Dunbar (Peter) and Joanna Adaran (Susan) both offer steady, grounded performances, even if Susan still feels slightly underwritten. Their adult portrayals of children never tip into caricature – a real achievement in itself.
Katy Stephens is glorious as the White Witch. She resists panto villain territory entirely, instead offering us a ruler who is cold, commanding, and entirely self-possessed. Her transformation at the end of Act One is one of the best bits of stagecraft I’ve seen all year – part aerial work, part illusion, and all utterly mesmerising.
Then there’s Aslan. Stanton Wright brings immense presence to the role – quiet, noble, and charismatic – and the dual representation (actor plus enormous puppet) is incredibly effective. The puppet, manipulated seamlessly by three performers, has weight and fluidity; it moves like something real, and when it roars, the whole theatre feels it. This is where the show really finds its heart – in Aslan’s quiet strength, in his sacrifice, and in the moment he returns, tail swishing and all.
The puppetry throughout, overseen by Max Humphries and Toby Olié, is consistently clever and often enchanting. Mr Tumnus, played with gentle warmth by Alfie Richards, is a standout, and Maugrim the wolf is a genuine fright – all mechanical twitching and cold menace. Even the professor’s cat Schrödinger makes a memorable appearance, a purring puppet with a mischievous streak.
Musically, the production leans into folk and choral traditions. There’s some lovely ensemble work, with the cast playing instruments live on stage. The songs themselves – particularly A Hundred Years of Snow – bring atmosphere rather than plot, and while they do occasionally slow the action, they never feel superfluous.
Not everything is perfect. A few scenes (including the Santa Claus moment) feel oddly muted, as though they’ve been half-dialled down for tone. And I did find myself wishing for a longer pause on Aslan’s death – we arrive and leave the scene so quickly, it doesn’t quite land with the impact it deserves.
But these are small quibbles in what is otherwise an imaginative, lovingly made piece of theatre. It’s a show that remembers what made the books so special – the wonder, the danger, the sense of crossing a threshold into something vast and unknown. I left feeling like I’d stepped back into something I once loved, and that love had been well looked after. And that’s a rare and welcome thing.
Reviewer: Nazaret Ranea
Reviewed: 13th May 2025
North West End Star Rating: