Into the Woods – Theatre Royal Bath

Rhashan Stone, Nicola Hughes and Alex Young in Into the Woods at Theatre Royal Bath. Picture: Marc Brenner

Into the Woods continues at Theatre Royal Bath until 10 September 2022.

Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The eagerly anticipated – and long-delayed – production of Sondheim and Lapine’s Into the Woods co-directed by Terry Gilliam and Leah Hausman finally opened this August, not at its originally intended home of the Old Vic but at the beautiful Theatre Royal Bath. Was it worth the wait and the hype? You betcha!

Gilliam and Hausman, fuelled by what’s undoubtedly a substantial budget, have taken the Sondheim-Lapine fairytale mash-up and given it a good seeing too, rooting deep inside the book and music to find the most inventive, eye-catching and breathtaking new show. For those of us who know the piece well, it really is like seeing it for the first time; for newcomers, it’s sure to be an exhilarating, offbeat spin on the familiar fairytales unlike anything else they’ve seen on stage.

And before I gush too much about just how spectacular it all looks – and it really does look a million dollars – there are also so many wonderful performances in among all the coups de théâtre. For every spinetingling visual treat, there’s a matching twist and turn in the vocals: old characters are given new voice, certain roles are inventively fleshed out, and others receive, for my money, their best interpretations ever.

Gilliam’s touch is clear to see, and feel. Not only is the show a visual treat – nods are also due to set designer Jon Bausor and associate Jack Valentine, illusion designer John Bulleid and lighting designer Mark Henderson – but it’s spiritually darker than any other production I’ve seen. It has vicious, lupine teeth. Neil Jordan’s gothic fantasy The Company of Wolves springs to mind, thanks to the unnerving animal-human hybrids that observe the action and double as grips, moving the sets and dragging off the bloodied corpses. There’s much relish in the slaughtering of characters, and the despatching of the giant at the end, not quite as Lapine had written it, is darker than any giant slaying I’ve ever seen.

Ingeniously, the set is inspired by a Victorian toy theatre, which creeps out beyond the proscenium. Everything has that sinister, scary-doll look, and it’s very effective. John Tenniel’s iconic illustrations for Lewis Carroll’s Alice books were also surely a source, particularly for Alex Gunnarsson’s costume designs and Campbell Young Associates’ hair, wigs and make-up. I’m reluctant to say much more as I don’t want to spoil the thrill you’ll get when you see the inventiveness on offer. Just expect a surprise around every corner.

I also don’t want to spend the review applauding the set, because it does a disservice to the fantastic cast, among whom there are pretty much no weak links. A complex, dovetailed show like Into the Woods needs a cast that really gels, and I found this company to be a tight-knit delight.

At the core are Rhashan Stone and Alex Young as the Baker and his Wife. Both are a pleasure to spend time with, and Young – now a confirmed Sondheim veteran, fresh from her starring role in Anyone Can Whistle – does particularly wonderful things with her part, truffling out all the comic and sexual joy in Lapine’s outstanding book. And she has the most amazing Bavarian hair: like Princess Leia dressed for a shift collecting steins at Oktoberfest.

Nathanael Campbell and Henry Jenkinson pair up perfectly as the shallow Princes – Rapunzel’s and Cinderella’s respectively – with Campbell doubling up to great comic effect as the Wolf. Their ‘Agony’ duets are the very model of how this number and its reprise should be done, full of the minutely nuanced fun that so many other productions miss.

Lauren Conroy, making her professional debut, is an absolute delight as a very Scottish Little Red Riding Hood – sweet but with that sharp edge, like a can of Irn-Bru, made from girders. Neither does Audrey Brisson miss a step as – ironically – the forever-tumbling Cinderella; her ‘On the Steps of the Palace’ is perfectly unfussy.

The unwaveringly good Gillian Bevan – another acclaimed Sondheim proponent – is almost criminally underused as Jack’s Mother but she fills out the role beautifully, and Barney Wilkinson does a sterling job as her hapless son Jack. No complaints there, even if Wilkinson is unusually tall for the role.

Maria Conneeley, also making her debut, plays Rapunzel and shows off the ripe fruits of her Arts Ed training, while Samuel Holmes as the Steward – like Bevan – does all he can to make a meal of his lesser role. He’s probably the most engaging Steward I can recall.

Similarly, Alexandra Waite-Roberts, Charlotte Jaconelli and Jamie Birkett milk their roles – as Cinderella’s Stepmother and Stepsisters Florinda and Lucinda – like their lives depend on it (in this production, a wise thing!).

And talking of milk, stealing almost every scene she’s in is Milky White the cow, brought to life – as if by magic – by dancer Faith Prendergast. While the design of Milky White doesn’t really match anything else on stage – she’s more Japanese anime than Victorian etching – you quickly come to love her aesthetic and her heart-warming character. Prendergast is clearly an expert in communicating through movement, brava.

We have two-time Olivier nominee Nicola Hughes to thank for the Witch – a character that Hughes doesn’t allow to overshadow the rest of the company. I’m not totally sold on her look post-transformation – from hunchbacked bag lady to a 1980s power-shoulder rather than a stunning glamour puss (which also seems to take an inordinate amount of time) – but a minor quibble in the light of her powerful ‘Last Midnight’. Without giving too much away, I was half-expecting a Miley Cyrus-style wrecking-ball moment with the pendulous pocketwatch that swings her way at the end of her 11-o’clock number but alas no. You’ll see what I mean if you get the chance to catch the show.

That, then, leaves the Mysterious Man, played with such deliciously creepy zeal by Julian Bleach. Far and away the most interesting, watchable Mysterious Man I’ve yet seen, Bleach is decked out in funereal black, as if stolen off the washing line of the Vulgarian Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He has the quirkiest voice too, which, combined with a sinewy gait and ghoulish visage, adds up to the most Gilliam-esque contribution to the casting. I’m not sure I’m on board with what Gilliam and Hausman have done with the role – the Narrator usually ‘doubles’ as the Baker’s Father – but it’s an interesting decision that I can only presume James Lapine was comfortable enough to agree to, and one that doesn’t affect one’s overall understanding or enjoyment of the show.

And let’s not forget the ensemble: the aforementioned sylvan spirits Michael Larcombe, Jordan Paris and Cath Whitefield (doubling as Granny), and the Little Girl who opens the show by opening her toy box, Jessica Barton/Annabelle Denny. Also credited in the programme as ‘Director’s Muse’ is Willow Ida Gilliam Karlberg – Gilliam’s granddaughter, presumably – whom we have to thank as inspiration for the production’s child’s-eye point of view.

Stephen Higgins (MD) and Ryan Mackenzie (associate MD) look after the 10-piece band – there were some interesting orchestrations that I’d love to hear again (was that a banjo?) – and for sound designer Adam Fisher, who mostly maintains everyone at a level that allows Sondheim’s wittiest words to be heard clearly. And credit is certainly due to puppet creator Billie Achilleos, even if responsible for the somewhat out-of-place Milky White.

It was a particularly pleasurable experience watching this phantasmagorical, magical re-envisioning of Into the Woods as part of the Bath audience – many of whom reacted like they’d never seen the show before. As a committed Sondheimite, I always feel a ripple of pleasure when I hear virginal reactions to his work. And more so when I’m the one discovering new things in old shows.

I would add only that one victim of all this grand guignol inventiveness is perhaps the show’s emotional tug at the end. It’s rare for me to make it through the woods without being reduced to a blubbering wreck, and while this ending was moving and I did feel something rolling down my cheek, the feeling wasn’t as intense as it has been in other productions. But then, I certainly didn’t care enough to let it bother me, especially after the preceding two hours of innovation, grandeur, spectacle and wizardry. The kid in me was certainly not bothered!

Indeed, I was surrounded by youngsters who were utterly captivated by what they were seeing – not the usual patronising pantomime nonsense they’re likely to have been spoonfed when watching Cinderella and co in action but dark, magical realism served up by a genius auteur director who doesn’t pull any punches. When have you ever seen Little Red deliver ‘I Know Things Now’ drenched head to toe in blood like Sissy Spacek’s Carrie? Bloody marvellous, and I can’t wait to see it again… with a budget and ambition this big, surely in the West End!? I wish!

Craig Glenday