★★★★

“a seasonal delight that will see families gasping with wonder”

For many Brits, it’s not Christmas until ‘The Snowman’ graces the TV. At the Peacock Theatre, the beloved figure steps off the screen and onto the stage once again, returning to deliver festive magic for all ages.

The plot shouldn’t be a surprise. A boy’s snowman miraculously springs to life, leading to a night of mischief and adventure. A magical flight to the North Pole culminates in a lively gathering with Father Christmas and friends. Additional characters, the Ice Princess and Jack Frost, add a touch of drama before the inevitable bittersweet return.

‘The Snowman’ is based on the beloved book by Raymond Briggs and film by Dianne Jackson and John Coates. Adapted by Birmingham Repertory Theatre, it’s been a winter West End staple since 1997. The perfect concept for a dance show, Howard Blake, Bill Alexander and Robert North’s scenario fleshes out the plot, adding a little drama and showing off the Snowman’s technical abilities. More female characters balance the male centred narrative, though casting the Ice Princess as an object of male rivalry feels dated in 2025. Even more outdated are characters with Middle Eastern and East Asian overtones, a pervasive feature of ballet tradition which could do with graceful retirement.

Director Bill Alexander sprinkles stage magic throughout, from fruit nose swaps and surprise confetti to perfectly timed snowfall. The extended flying sequence is a highlight, capturing the film’s wonder in real time. A softened ending, complete with a hopeful dusting of snow and jubilant curtain call, appeals to younger children. Still, at nearly two hours, it could do with tightening – especially the more static first act. Furthermore, frequent blackout scene changes slow Act 1’s pace, some of which could be swapped for more dynamic on stage transitions.

Choreographer Robert North keeps movement child friendly with clear, cleverly directed choreography. Dance lovers are rewarded with a charming pas de deux from the Snowman and Ice Princess, Jack Frost’s virtuoso solo, and a lively pas de trois. That said the opening scenes feel a bit stilted with long passages of walking, miming and costume changing, lacking the vitality of the stronger second half.

Musically, Howard Blake’s score retains all the beloved elements of the original while enriching this adaptation with thoughtful extras. Familiar themes mesh seamlessly with new compositions, offering nostalgia for long time fans and freshness for newcomers. The iconic ‘Walking in the Air’ features additional harmonies, transforming it from a solo moment into an elevated expression of Snowman and Boy’s shared adventure.

Ruari Murchison’s design faithfully evokes the book and film with clever set, while Tim Mitchell’s lighting adds magic with inventive storytelling touches. Richard Brooker and Chris Campbell’s sound design impresses with realistic effects and balanced mixing. Most memorable are the flying effects by Flying by Foy, sending the Snowman and Boy soaring in perfect sync with the score.

A strong ensemble delivers cohesive, well drawn performances across multiple roles, though smaller moments – like the parade of fridge fruit – lack a little polish. Despite a hidden face, the Snowman communicates remarkable emotion in their extended lines and physicality, though their dancing only truly emerges in Act 2. The Boy captures naïve excitement with confident stage presence, expressive detail and musicality. The Ice Princess brings grace and precision to both serious and comic choreography, while Santa injects colour and joy with energetic, angular movement. Jack Frost, meanwhile, delivers virtuosic leaps and turns, embodying menace with flair.

A flurry of festive fun, ‘The Snowman’ is a seasonal delight that will see families gasping with wonder. Imperfections aside, it remains a charming staple of seasonal celebration.

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

We first see the eponymous heroine, in Jasmin Vardimon’s dance interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s nineteenth century classic children’s novel, as a chalk animation shifting across the page of a giant book. As it reaches the edge of the page, the real-life version (Liudmila Loglisci) peeps out in wonder and trepidation before taking her first balletic steps onto the stage – or, rather, into the rabbit hole. You can understand her reticence; there is a whirlwind of activity. It appears chaotic and surreal but there is a precision to the ensemble’s movement that is a hallmark of Jasmin Vardimon MBE’s acrobatic and intense choreography.

The pages of the giant book (courtesy of Guy Bar-Amotz’ – along with Vardimon herself – inventive, slightly shabby-chic design) slowly turn, sometimes engulfing Alice, sometimes hurling her into the action. The show is split into six chapters, each representing a sequence from Carroll’s fiction, and each being a formative rite of passage for the malleable young girl. The overriding theme is that of change, particularly focusing on Alice seeking her own identity as she hits adolescence with brute force. It is an ingenious device that superimposes the fantastical elements and characters of the original story onto a very modern tale of coping with today’s socio-political minefield. Barely a word is spoken. Our understanding of the concept relies entirely on the staging, which falls into the category of physical theatre rather than dance for most of the time. It is a visual feast, accompanied by an eclectic choice of soundtrack ranging from Vivaldi to Ryuichi Sakamoto, a touch of Bach, and scratch DJ Kid Koala, among many others.

It is a touch confusing, but then that reflects the bewildering and disconcerting changes our protagonist has to go through, and how it all affects her identity. Multiple pairs of arms reach out from behind doorways, along with shadow puppet hands that paw at the evolving Alice. One of quite a few references to a predatory world, and the unwanted male attention. The message is muddied further: a part of Alice seems to enjoy this while another part is repelled. Uncertain as to which direction to turn, Alice splits into seven copies of herself as the cast dance in unison to Smokie’s much parodied, seventies hit ‘Living Next Door to Alice’.

These welcome moments of light comedy puncture the over-surreal whimsical commentary, and Vardimon works the humour into the piece with ease, so that scenes that depict physical abuse or domestic violence give way to the pleasures that can be derived from turning into an adult. Imagery and metaphor give us the inner workings of Alice’s mind while striking visual projections and scenery create the world she has stumbled into. The Cheshire Cat, a vaping caterpillar, the Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts, are all there. Even Tweedledum and Tweedledee make an appearance, wandering from ‘Through the Looking-Glass’ into this wonderland of dance and music.

There is little emotional connection. The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers. It is often impossible to believe there are only seven in the cast. There are elements of the work of Aurélia Thiérrée, or the acclaimed performance company ‘1927’. However, comparisons do Vardimon an injustice. She is in a world – and a class – of her own, combining theatre and dance in a unique way to tell the story. Not only do we see the ways in which the world she enters changes Alice, but Vardimon also shows the ways in which the world reacts to her metamorphosis. Beautifully dreamlike and unusual, marred slightly by the jarring, yet fleeting, use of literal placards drawing focus on the issues of immigration. The message would be better served among the many others that are subtly woven into the fabric of the piece.

As Alice steps back into her two-dimensional form in the pages of the book, we come full circle. We are not sure whether Alice has escaped Wonderland unchanged or awakened. A twist in the fate of the hookah-smoking (vaping in this scenario) caterpillar gives us a clue. Clues are all we seem to get in Vardimon’s interpretation of Alice in Wonderland. But we have a wonderful time not solving them. Alice couldn’t explain herself “because I am not myself, you see”. This is a show that can be watched, without being explained, simply due to the astonishing choreography performed by masters of their craft.

THE SNOWMAN

Peacock Theatre

★★★★

“a seasonal delight that will see families gasping with wonder”

THE SNOWMAN

Peacock Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd November 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Tristram Kenton

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ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Tristram Kenton

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