Into the Woods review

We begin with our clutch of fairytale archetypes gathered on a stark set, apparently startled by the audience’s scrutiny and awaiting instructions. These duly come from Michael Gould’s Narrator, although he also looks bemused and uncertain; it’s the first signposting that these colourful characters are here to teach us the life lessons about love, family, society and self-determination that we all must learn as we venture into the murk of the metaphorical woods. 

Gathered around the worktop of the Baker (Jamie Parker) and his Wife (Katie Brayben) – whose quest to lift a curse that has left them childless propels the central plot – the folkloric figures of Little Red Ridinghood (Gracie McGonigal), Jack of beanstalk fame (Jo Foster) and Cinderella (Chumisa Dornford-May) form painterly tableaux. Then, as they set off on their intersecting adventures, Tom Scutt’s design uncannily transforms in a twinkling: dense trees materialise, eerily shadow-stalked by Aideen Malone’s lighting and Roland Horvath’s video. It’s storybook perfection.

In fact, much of the enchantment here lies in the visuals. Scutt costumes everyone deliciously, down to the smallest detail. The two charming princes are like a pair of primped playing-card knaves, while Cinderella’s nasty stepsisters and stepmother carry glittery handbags shaped like a pumpkin-shaped coach and horses. The Witch, who holds the key to all the stories’ mysteries, played with immense wit and pathos by Kate Fleetwood, is a roguish, snaggletoothed, nightmare horror, with her leather corset, twisted body and popping eyes; she’s later magically transformed into a doyenne of soigné sophistication.

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There’s some likably silly business with a puppet cow in the first half, but Fein sensibly keeps the vengeful giantess of the second act off stage, rather than resorting to lumbering props. And some clever interplay between Bella Brown’s Rapunzel and Fleetwood’s Witch, who is her mother, suggests the impact of the legacy of generational trauma, with the long-haired maiden in the tower eventually bent, broken and bitter.

Sometimes the staging is a little cluttered – Jenny Ogilvie’s movement has a nicely folksy, jigging simplicity, but it occasionally clumps. And the mechanics of the plotting feel slightly laborious in a production that brings so little that’s new to the table. Still, it’s plush and polished, and moment by moment, there’s plenty to enjoy. And visually, it’s spellbinding.

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