Every so often I see a production that reminds me just how powerful true theatre can be.

On Wednesday evening Owen and I saw WAR HORSE at the Olivier Theatre. It has been adapted by Nick Stafford from the 1982 novel by Michael Morpurgo. I didn't feel particularly fired up to see it when it was announced as I didn't know the book but after it opened to out-and-out rave reviews we managed to get tickets in what is now a sell-out production. I was mesmerised from the start and was held by it until it's cathartic ending.

The simple tale is of a colt who is caught and sold in auction to a poor farmer who entrusts it to his teenage son Albert. They have an immediate connection and Albert names him Joey, raising him to be a fine handsome horse. He even manages to train the thoroughbred into being a plough-horse to save losing him in a bet his father has made with a hated brother-in-law. However it is 1914 and even Albert cannot save his beloved Joey being sold to the Cavalry as a war horse. A young Major has noticed the two of them in the days leading up to the recruitment drive in the village and promises Albert he will have Joey as his horse and will return him by Christmas "when the War's over". Two months later Albert receives news that the Major has been killed in action and, stricken with anxiety for Joey, runs away from home to sign up and find him in the killing grounds of the Western Front. The play then follows the ghastly trials both boy and horse are subjected to over the course of the war to end all wars. The highly emotional story tugs on all possible heartstrings with fate and coincidence sometimes too much at hand. However one goes along with the plot contrivances as the production is so wonderfully involving. Co-directed by Tom Morris and the-always interesting Marianne Elliott the tone never waivers and the clarity of the piece is a hallmark of Elliott's best work. The large company serve the piece well - there are noteworthy performances by Angus Wright as a kindly German officer who saves Joey and another proud stallion Topthorn by using them to pull a German ambulance, Luke Treadaway is an understandably panicky Albert and Thusitha Jayasundera as his fiery but loving mother.
The real stars however are the actors/manipulators who work the life-size puppets of Joey and Topthorn - there should be another word for them as they transcend the name puppet. The horses are worked by three performers - one working the head, one as the chest and front legs, one as the back legs. The metal, wood and canvas frames move sinuously with the movements designed by Toby Sedgwick (who also plays Albert's father) that soon they really do become characters in their own right. Indeed their very stripped-down look helps in your sympathy when you see the horses exposed to the dangers of battle - when one is 'killed' the shell is left on the stage and immediately it connects to images one knows of wasted horses seen in WWI photographs. The design work is truly excellent: Rae Smith (stage), Basil Jones and Adrian Kohler (puppet design for Handspring Puppet Company) and Paule Constable (lighting) deserve all the praise received in the press. Indeed Handspring have also given us swallows, children, crows and a scene-stealing goose! Special mention too for Adrian Sutton's lush musical score and John Tams' evocative folk songs.
The real joy of this production however is the collaboration made between the audience and the performers/production team. The true alchemy of theatre is here, when the leap of imagination asked of the audience is overcome and a real shared experience is created not only between performer and audience member but within the audience itself. The stillness in the audience during the final scenes was palpable, a wonderful feeling. There wasn't a dry eye in the house... even mine, Constant Reader. The explosion of sound during the curtain calls was a welcome relief... and yes that was Stephen Sondheim a few rows in front of me clapping broadly and enthusiastically.

A performance like this evening happens rarely but when it does it is what makes theatre the greatest of the arts.
Just before the lights went down Owen asked where, all those 25 years ago, I had usually sat for "Guys and Dolls" and I pointed out the front-row just off centre. As I've explained before in this blog, that production was the first time I felt that alchemy, when the power of the performers is bounced back to them by the audience's responses and concentration.

There seemed to be quite a few parents with children attending tonight - how wonderful if even just a handful of the young people attending now realise how exciting real theatre can be.