A fabulous full-on fantasy with the reality of problem relationships at its heart

Once upon a time this production was destined for London’s Old Vic Theatre. It was a falling out between Terry Gilliam and the theatre’s staff at some of the Python legend’s old-school views that led to this quest down the M4 to stage this full-on vision of Sondheim’s scary take on fairy tales in Bath’s elegant Theatre Royal. Here, the ever wildly inventive and mischievous Gilliam is given his head – almost – for happily he is codirecting with Leah Hausman, a brilliant choreographer and movement director, in what proves a fairy tale marriage indeed.

Sondheim’s collaborator on his later musicals, book writer James Lapine, is responsible for the extraordinarily intricate twisting together of so many much-loved tales that have scared and delighted generations of children worldwide.

The first glimpse of designer Jon Bausor’s Victorian-style Pollock’s Toy Theatre set is actual size, with a delightful little lass in bedtime-story pyjamas (a role shared by Jessica Barton and Annabelle Denny) manipulating the rod puppets. In the first of a succession of stunning – and scary – coups de théâtre, the lights go up on a full-on detailed and, at life-size, eerily sinister realisation of the tiny toy theatre.

As if it were not enough to meet familiar fairy tale denizens: Jack reluctantly sent to market by his penniless Mum to sell his beloved bestie, Milky White the cow; dainty downtrodden Cinderella, a slave to her cruel, larger-than-life stepsisters and their callous mum; feisty young Red – Red Riding Hood to you – who looks to be more than a match for the sinister Wolf; and a pair of princely brothers in pursuit of unattainable princesses; these tales are woven together around new characters with new stories to tell.

The Baker and his wife long for a child, but they've inherited the dangerous displeasure of a hideous and powerful witch, who blames the Baker’s father for the theft of magic beans. They are the vital ingredient for the spell destined to restore her full powers – and good looks. So, she curses the couple with infertility, a curse she will only revoke if they find the four ingredients she needs to make her spell.

What comes over so graphically and potently in this production, is the single-minded selfishness the (anti)heroes of each quest must display to achieve their hearts’ desire. If deceit or even deadly violence are necessary, so be it. Take the tension between The Baker and his wife and Jack of Beanstalk fame. Poor Milky White the cow is probably dead meat anyway, but she is also pursued by the Baker and his wife, wanted dead or alive for the witch’s spell. Billie Achilleos’ puppet creation, as brilliantly ‘worn’ and manipulated from within by Faith Prendergast is a life-size, best-beloved cuddly toy. Barney Wilkinson’s hapless Jack engages audience sympathy, especially in the face of the unmaternal callousness displayed by Gillian Bevan as his desperate Mum.

Rhashan Stone’s Baker and Alex Young’s Baker’s Wife are at the heart of the retelling of all the more familiar tales. Theirs is a complex, joshing relationship as they argue – until they learn they must work together. Stone and Young are wonderful together, showing us a conflicted couple, who eventually provide a template for negotiating successful relationships.

Nicola Hughes’ Witch is both frighteningly formidable and almost to be pitied in her plight. Lauren Conroy’s diminutive Glasgow hard girl is the feistiest Red you could wish for, so Nathanael Campbell’s almost sexually predatory Wolf is doomed from the outset. Devouring Cath Whitefield's toughened Granny is also an obvious wrong move. By contrast, Audrey Brisson’s delicate Cinderella seems almost entirely at the mercy of wicked stepmother Alexandra Waite-Roberts and her horrid daughters, Jamie Birkett’s Lucinda and Charlotte Jaconelli’s Florinda, all in outrageously OTT panto frills and furbelows.

The story of Rapunzel in her tower, and the hair she must let down for visitors both welcome (her Prince) and unwelcome (her mother, the Witch) is artfully woven into the new narrative for a lock of her hair seems to be a vital ingredient of that spell. Maria Conneely cuts a poignant figure keening her sweet song atop a tower built from a couple of precariously balanced giant soup and beans cans. Her disastrous relationship with the Witch is another vital piece of the account of inter-generational tension at the very real heart of this apparent fantasy tale.

Stunning visual effects (credit to illusion designer John Bulleid and his team) include actors inside larger-than-life rabbit and deer costumes and, literally looming above all, the vengeful giantess whom Jack has robbed of husband and treasures – a frighteningly graphic massive doll.

Every role is sung to perfection, backed by MD Stephen Higgins’ 10-piece orchestra. Sondheim would surely have relished the production – and the standing ovation it got from the enthusiastic opening-night audience.

By Judi Herman

Photos by Marc Brenner

Into the Woods runs until Saturday 10 September. 7.30pm, 2.30pm (Thu & Sat only). From £27. Theatre Royal Bath, BA1 1ET. 01225 448 844. theatreroyal.org.uk