★★★★★

“Compelling and captivating”

Much has been written about the importance and, more significantly, the magic of fairy tales. How they help a growing mind deal with difficult emotions and internal conflicts. We all have our favourite one, but imagine if a few of them were intertwined together. Would that create confusion and dampen the magic? Jordan Fein’s staging of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s “Into the Woods” provides the simple answer that, if done right, the result is truly magical indeed. For nearly three hours we are enchanted, bewitched and spellbound by this production in the West End, which has transferred from its acclaimed run at the Bridge Theatre across the river.

It shouldn’t work. The musical mixes up the plots of several Brothers Grimm fairy tales – notably ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’, ‘Rapunzel’, ‘Cinderella’ – and adds some others too. It is fitting that the collaboration between Sondheim and Lapine was initially (allegedly) forged over a shared spliff at Sondheim’s New York apartment. Whether that’s true or not, it certainly goes a long way in explaining the haphazard storyline which centres on a childless baker and his wife, and their quest to begin a family.

The characters are introduced to us by the Narrator; a casually erudite Michael S. Siegel who leads us on their journey, watching from the outside but occasionally and unwittingly getting drawn into the fantastical fiction himself. They each have their own wishes. Cinderella wants to go to the King’s festival; Jack wishes that his cow could be milked while his Mother just wishes he would sell it. Little Red Riding Hood wishes to look after her grandmother; Rapunzel wishes for freedom, and the witch, in an odd twist, wishes for curses to be lifted. There are giants, wolves, princes and a mysterious man. And chaos and destruction, with plenty of darkness. But above all, the humour is brought to the fore in this revival. It is a winning and utterly compelling formula that adds untold layers onto the dreamlike wonder the show inspires.

And that is before we even get to the performances. Impeccable across the board, the cast weave the dialogue and the singing together as though spinning gold, making the complex melodies, countermelodies and switchback rhythms sound natural and simple, and layering emotion onto the technical intricacy. All the while humanising their outlandish characters. John Dagleish and Laura Pitt-Pulford have a deep-rooted and cozy chemistry, as do Keith Ramsay’s gorgeously eccentric Jack and his Mother, whose resigned and stoic tolerance of her son is beautifully portrayed by Julie Jupp. They all have their quirks, kinks and foibles. Simbi Akande is a feisty Cinderella who is more concerned with escaping her family than fawning over her prince, while Fiona Finsbury’s delightfully obstreperous Rapunzel dreams of her own escape. Gracie McGonigal, as a mischievous Red Riding Hood, makes us wonder how the wolf would even dare think about taking her on. Cinderella’s Prince and Rapunzel’s Prince (Matthew Seadon-Young and Lucas Koch respectively) make a dynamic, camp comedy duo.

It’s an impossible task to stand out among such a strong line up, but if anyone does it is Kate Fleetwood as the witch, with her starry and captivating performance. Caustic, sardonic, world-weary and extremely funny, she exudes sassy power and helpless frustration simultaneously. Her rendition of ‘Last Midnight’ is breathtaking, enhanced by the sheer spectacle of Aideen Malone’s lighting. Ethereal and mystical it creates the supernatural world of the woods. Tom Scutt’s set opens up to reveal the forest, inviting but foreboding; initially luxuriant before becoming a wasteland when things take a turn for the worse. For in this tale, they most certainly do as we learn that getting your wish is only the start of your problems. There’s no small body count in the second act as the characters battle the consequences of their actions. There is a pertinence to this make-believe world of witch hunts and scapegoats that translates to the real world, and Sondheim and Lapine’s message creeps through the ravaged undergrowth to grab us by the throat.

This is an astonishing piece of theatre that highlights every note, cadence and inflection of Sondheim’s extraordinary score. Dark but full of joy, affirming the importance of fairytales, magic and escapism. Lapine has called it “the best production I’ve ever seen, and I include my own”. We can only agree with that. Compelling and captivating. You simply must go into the woods. The only problem is that you won’t want to come out.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL at the Old Vic

★★★★★

“an evening of pure magic”

You could argue (and many people do) that the run up to Christmas gets earlier and earlier each year. No sooner have the pumpkins rotted and the fake cobwebs blown away from the city’s hedgerows, than the festive lights are switched on and Santa dominates the shop window displays. We utter ‘Humbug’ in disapproval and complain about rampant commercialism, while inwardly allowing the child in us a little bit of excitement. There is always a watershed, though, after which we can openly embrace the festive season without shame; and over the years one of them has become opening night of the Old Vic’s “A Christmas Carol”. It may still be November, but the annual event in Waterloo is now as traditional as mince pies. The spirit of Christmas is officially declared in our capital. And Old Marley is dead as a door nail.

Tradition rules in what is a faithful, but inspired, telling of Charles Dickens’ ‘ghostly little book’. Originally written in five staves it seems to be inviting a musical underscore, which Christopher Nightingale more than excels in providing. From the opening (and closing) handbell ringing through to the filmic strings and reeds, not to mention the chorale harmonies of the cast – dubbed ‘singing creatures’ by Scrooge. The ensemble cast also double up as a kind of chorus, in Victorian black and stove pipe hats, giving us stylised and choreographed snippets of Dickens’ evocative prose to link the staves of the story.

Central to the story, obviously, is old Ebenezer Scrooge. This year John Simm wears the cloak with an easy assurance. Not so much fearsome but more brooding. Beneath the initial rancour, one can glimpse a sensitivity that Simm brings that could almost excuse his forbidding nature; amplified by the flashbacks to his childhood at the hands of an abusive, debt-ridden father (an impressive Mark Goldthorp, who doubles as Marley’s ghost). Forgiveness and hope are essential strands in the narrative, and we understand how those hard done by, at Scrooge’s hand, manage to keep hold of this precarious quality. Juliette Crosbie’s Belle encapsulates this with a sharp and, at times, heart-rending portrayal of Scrooge’s lost love.

The three ghosts of ‘past’, ‘present’ and ‘yet-to-come’ are more mischievous than menacing in their matching patchwork cloaks. With the quality of a Shakespearian fool, they each lay open the painful truth Scrooge has spent a lifetime avoiding. In Jack Thorne’s imaginative adaptation, Scrooge’s little sister, Fan (Georgina Sadler) who died in childbirth, haunts him as the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. An impassioned dialogue over Scrooge’s own coffin is a deeply moving moment. Our hearts break at other times, too. When Scrooge watches himself as a young boy he wistfully proclaims, “I don’t want him to become me”. A pause. “I want him to love”. Those simple four words are a pivotal point, the epiphanic moment that assures us he has reached the turning point. From then on, our own spirits are lifted to the roof; accompanied perfectly by the music that slowly swells from a plaintive a cappella solo voice to a sumptuous choir. Cut to black. A few seconds of pure and thick silence, and we are back in the present.

We are constantly and fully immersed in the story, whether sitting in the balcony, alongside the thrust of the playing space, or even on the stage itself. Director Matthew Warchus makes full use of the auditorium, resulting in a theatricality that cannot be faulted. Sparse yet evocative, we feel we are on the cobbled streets outside, with Rob Howell’s empty door frames made solid by Simon Baker’s ingenious sound design. Hugh Vanstone’s lighting is the icing on the cake (the brandy on the pudding) that adds the final magical flourishes. Simm’s transformation of character on Christmas morning is filled with a boyish ecstasy – a joy that we share watching this production. It is an evening of pure magic. Momentarily, the show slips out of character and flirts with pantomime – complete with chutes of sprouts and a low-flying turkey on a zip-wire. But the enchantment is swiftly restored. Joyous, evocative, atmospheric and spirited, “A Christmas Carol” is a tradition that has survived the past and will live long into the future. The Old Vic’s seasonal offering joins that tradition – and is the perfect Christmas present.

Tag Archives: Julie Jupp

INTO THE WOODS

★★★★★

Noël Coward Theatre

INTO THE WOODS

Noël Coward Theatre

★★★★★

“Compelling and captivating”

INTO THE WOODS

Noël Coward Theatre

Reviewed on 7th October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

INTO THE WOODS REVIEW

INTO THE WOODS

INTO THE WOODS

INTO THE WOODS

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

★★★★★

Old Vic

A CHRISTMAS CAROL at the Old Vic

★★★★★

“an evening of pure magic”