Alex Knox and Nathan Turner in The Silver Sword at the Belgrade Theatre, Coventry and Touring. Picture: Robert Day
The Silver Sword continues at the Belgrade Theatre, Coventry before embarking on a UK tour throughout autumn 2015.
Star rating: three stars ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩
You never forget the first book that really gripped you as a child. Nor can we ignore the impact those books have in fuelling our curiosity about the world we live in and why it behaves the way it does. Michael Morpurgo, David Almond and Roald Dahl’s works have all found their theatrical home in recent years, but for many that first book was Ian Serraillier’s celebrated novel The Silver Sword.
It has travelled decades from its humble printed origins in 1956 to become one of the founding narratives informing children’s understanding of the Second World War and its aftermath. Now, for the first time ever it has been adapted for the musical stage, a labour of love four years in the undertaking by the creative duo of Susie McKenna (who also directs) and Steven Edis, and co-produced by Sell A Door Theatre Company and Coventry’s Belgrade Theatre.
The theme of stories resounding and repeating throughout time is ingrained throughout. Our band of storytellers weavs their way atmospherically through the rubble of post-Second World War Warsaw, instruments in hands and songs on lips.
Blackened crates, war artefacts, old pots and pans, a beautifully designed suitcase/piano, weathered debris and beaten books mark the ruined landscape (set design is by Lotte Collett). You can’t help but draw parallels to the Blitz-soaked ruins of Coventry Cathedral less than a quarter mile from where we sit, or the estimated four million people currently fleeing the war in Syria, dislocated and journeying to safety, but the mood is light, if poignant – much assisted by the gorgeously gymnastic sounds of special guests SenzaNome, Coventry’s resident Polish choir, who had serenaded us in the foyer beforehand.
In The Silver Sword, we follow a family fractured from the war, a father having escaped prison camp and searching for his three children – who are surviving in the woodlands on little but air themselves.
Ruth, the eldest girl, played with heart by Rachel Flynn, keeps the peace and educates the children, while Bronia, the youngest, documents everything in her drawings (the part is shared between three young girls, but was played during this performance with a lovely honesty by Catrin Connellan). Their hopes hinge on an orphaned urchin and friend to all animals, Jan, who helps them back on their journey to safety, humanity and each other, and to the mountains of Switzerland, with more than a few adventures on the way.
The multi-talented cast brings a great energy to the story and finds no shortage of tasks, from singing, to playing instruments, to dancing, to puppetry to set-arranging and beyond. This is a true ensemble effort, and there is undoubtedly plenty for a young audience to take in here, though it occasionally falls just short of engaging.
Surprisingly, despite all there is to see, one wonders whether the show would fully hold the concentration of a younger audience, and perhaps this is due to the length and pace –- the piece could still do with some trimming. Though Act II is exciting, the first lags, and the narrative feels a little stuck, thinning to accommodate too much exposition.
There is subtlety lacking in parts of the heavier dialogue, and in the development of one or two of the female characters, which isn’t helped by the fact that a couple of performances are a little underdeveloped.
Despite this, there are some fantastic comic interludes in the form of Alexander Knox’s patter as the Major General’s ‘Dear Jane’ – a work of absurd genius involving a chimp, a motor car, and a far-off sweetheart. Nathan Turner must also be commended for a quite remarkable range of accents, and for a particularly heart-warming portrayal of his henpecked Russian soldier. These two performances are undoubtedly the highlights of the evening.
Steven Edis’ folky score swings and dances its way through Eastern Europe, capturing the spirited melancholy of the traditional melodies of Poland and Slovakia. The music cleverly follows the journey of the children through Europe – and there are some lovely choral moments, despite the occasional tuning issue. If the music occasionally becomes too repetitive, it might be for want of a few more individual numbers. A beautiful duet ‘Silver Moon’ in Act II testifies to this, placed well amongst the joviality of the group songs.
The show must be applauded for its subtle use of projections. All too often we are used to seeing the projector as a bit of a bully, but we are not only treated to real-life photographs of the events unfolding, but animations woven throughout which are adapted directly from drawings made by the children of the refugee camps. The latter earn a delicate and integrated place on the stage. Likewise, the puppets, in true ‘objet trouvé’ fashion, assembled from old jumpers, kitchen utensils, scraps and rags, almost as if they were born of the post-war rubble itself.
The puppet master and designer himself, Scott Brooker (of Spitting Image fame) has done such a splendid job with them that it’s a shame they aren’t used a lot more – if the animals are Jan’s way back to his lost childhood and humanity, they should be ours too!
This is a gentle, detailed and well-loved production which will no doubt evolve and strengthen during its run and subsequent tour. At the heart of it, it’s a good old adventure tale, and a lovely way to bring a bit of history to life for the whole family.
Aura Simon
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