Tag Archives: Portia Yuran Li

THE PIED PIPER: A RAT’S TALE

★★★

Little Angel Theatre

THE PIED PIPER: A RAT’S TALE

Little Angel Studios

★★★

“an imaginative and well-crafted reinterpretation of a familiar story”

Most audiences already know the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. But what happens if the story is retold from the point of view of those usually described as the problem — the rats themselves? This is the central idea behind Little Angel Theatre’s The Pied Piper: A Rat’s Tale, and it is also the production’s most effective act of adaptation.

The world of the show is established immediately through music. A haunting flute melody, combined with loose robes, waistcoats, head coverings and layers of fabric, creates a culturally hybrid visual style. Rather than presenting a realistic version of medieval Germany, the production builds a timeless folkloric world: a place of travelling musicians, storytellers, markets and old legends. This gives the story an international quality and allows the audience to enter the world quickly without being tied too closely to one historical setting.

The storyteller welcomes the audience warmly and playfully brings the local area into the performance, at one point referring to the market as “Islington”, the neighbourhood in which Little Angel Theatre is based. From there, the story follows Horatio, a young rat who leaves his quiet home by the river in search of excitement. After arriving in “Hamelin” and taking a nap at the market, he is captured by humans, passed off as a replacement puppy and sold to a family. His whirlwind of adventures then sets in motion the events that eventually lead to the familiar story of the Pied Piper.

This shift in perspective is the strongest element of the production. The rats are no longer simply a plague or a comic threat. They become characters with their own motivations, relationships and points of view. The show therefore becomes less a retelling of a famous story and more “the story behind the story”.

The solo performer, Steve Tiplady, handles the different characters with clarity and energy, and the production itself is carefully structured and highly tourable. Some of the most theatrical moments come from changes in scale. Tiny finger puppets are sometimes almost too small for younger audience members to see, but this limitation is later turned into a surprise. A black curtain is lifted to reveal an entire miniature town, with carts moving through the streets and small rats appearing at windows. These changes of perspective are simple, inventive and deeply theatrical.

The ending, however, feels rushed and dramatically less convincing. In attempting to soften the grim ending of the original tale, Horatio ultimately becomes a hero by saving the children, giving the production a more reassuring, family-friendly conclusion. Yet this also raises a more complicated question.

Horatio begins as an ordinary rat who feels overlooked. He leaves home, survives an adventure, saves others, becomes a hero and is finally accepted. The emotional logic therefore risks becoming: you are worthy of love because you have proved yourself exceptional.

For a contemporary children’s audience, this idea of conditional belonging deserves closer examination. Does Horatio really need to become extraordinary in order to deserve acceptance? Perhaps the more interesting question is whether he ever needed to prove his worth at all.

A Rat’s Tale is an imaginative and well-crafted reinterpretation of a familiar story, with strong puppetry, clear storytelling and several beautifully theatrical moments. Its change of perspective feels fresh. Yet by returning to a conventional heroic ending, it loses some of the complexity that the adaptation initially promises.



THE PIED PIPER: A RAT’S TALE

Little Angel Studios

Reviewed on 20th September 2026

by Portia Yuran Li

Photography by Ellie Kurttz


 

 

 

 

THE PIED PIPER

THE PIED PIPER

THE PIED PIPER

−320°F

★★★

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

−320°F

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★

“a fast, funny, chaotic and dazzling theatrical machine”

Hideki Noda’s −320°F at Sadler’s Wells begins before the performance officially begins. As the audience enters, the stage is already active: actors dig, search and move through what looks like an archaeological excavation site. A performer carries a detector; others appear half as field workers, half as figures from a ritual or a buried past. Their costumes sit between Japanese-inflected forms, contemporary workwear and excavation gear. From the start, time feels unstable.

The first striking element is the performers’ vocal power. Although the performance is in Japanese with English subtitles, the absence of visible microphones makes their clarity and force even more striking. Speech seems to come from the whole body rather than the throat alone. This physical discipline recalls, at least in spirit, the rigour of Tadashi Suzuki’s actor training: grounded bodies, controlled breath and a strong relationship between voice and physical presence.

The opening becomes increasingly impressive through Shigehiro Ide’s choreography. The performers do not merely fill the stage; they assemble and dissolve into images: dinosaur bones, a mermaid fossil, laboratory mice, ageing bodies, Adam and Eve. At moments, bodies become fossils; at others, fossils seem to breathe. The stage turns into a living museum of human memory.

Noda’s theatre is not built on linear realism. −320°F follows a man whose life has been saved by science and who now seeks the “angel bone”, believed to contain the secret of life and fulfil human desire. The bone in his own arm trembles, opening a door into genetic memory. The play then moves between a modern fossil site, a medieval laboratory and the ancient world. Time becomes geological: layered, fractured and constantly excavated.

The programme’s map of characters and timelines is therefore useful. The play asks the audience not simply to follow plot, but to move between symbolic systems, historical layers and bodily images. The title clearly echoes Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. If Bradbury’s temperature suggests fire, censorship and the destruction of knowledge, Noda’s minus 320 Fahrenheit suggests freezing, preservation, suspended life and the desire for immortality.

The production’s scenography is fast and inventive. Press conferences, laboratories, excavation spaces and mythic scenes appear with little mechanical delay. They are built through bodies, props, lighting, sound and rhythm. The sequence of laboratory mice dancing with elderly figures is both comic and disturbing. The Banana Dance, meanwhile, brings sudden energy and humour, showing Noda’s skill in wrapping serious questions inside theatrical pleasure.

Yet the richness of −320°F also creates difficulty. The play repeatedly circles around the Angel, the angel bone, birth, choice and identity, but these ideas are not always fully resolved. The ending’s movement towards “Live” is emotionally clear, but slightly broad compared with the ethical questions raised earlier.

Still, perhaps this refusal of resolution is part of Noda’s method. He draws us into a fast, funny, chaotic and dazzling theatrical machine, then leaves us with a cold question: when science can prolong, select and redesign life, is humanity approaching the divine, or creating new forms of violence?

The aftershock of −320°F lies in that unease. Beneath the speed, humour and spectacle, Noda excavates modern humanity itself: our fear of death, our faith in science, our hunger for control and our need to recover reverence before the fragile fact of being alive.



−320°F

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd July 2026

by Portia Yuran Li

Photography by Takashi Okamoto (from Tokyo production)


 

 

 

 

−320°F

−320°F

−320°F