Review: The Witches – National Theatre

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The Witches is sensational, I have no notes. Despite this, theQR’s M.O. rather demands I provide you with a few. Where to start? Perhaps with Lucy Kirkwood’s faithful, but unslavish adaptation of Roald Dahl’s novel, which embraces its inspiration’s dark comedy and refusal to make every problem solvable. Then, we might turn to Dave Malloy’s luxuriously rich, inventive, and memorable score. Or maybe we should be talking about the outstanding adult cast led by Katherine Kingsley’s majestically wicked Grand High Witch, Sally Ann Triplett’s charismatically cigar-chewing, witch-hunting Gran, and Daniel Rigby’s comic tour-de-force as embattled, yet ever pompous Hotel manager Mr Stringer.

Of course, perhaps the review should have begun with the bold, and talented Young Company which furnishes the production’s wonderfully diverse array of potential (and actual) victims. Mention would then be demanded for Frankie Keita’s hugely likeable, and bold boy-then-mouse Luke and George Menezes Cutts’s wonderfully extrovert turn as posh kid turned witch-victim Bruno (the young principals rotate of course.)

These superfluous notes can’t stop here, having yet to mention the National Theatre and Roald Dahl Story Company’s The Witches’ superb production values. Lizzie Clachan’s picture-perfect set, encased in an abstract forest of grasping fingers, takes full advantage of the Olivier Theatre’s revolving Drum. The Witches occupies a dynamic, continually evolving world. Characters move seamlessly from room to room, from safety into danger, from human scale to mouse, from imagination back to twisted reality. Wonderfully technicolour costuming, and elegantly simple transformations of the murine and witchy kinds, propel the plot and shape characters.

Complimented by Ash J Woodward’s spooky video, and Bruno Poet’s sublime lighting palette, The Witches is a delight to behold. Chris Fisher and Will Houston’s Illusions are a cherry on this design cake, never overdone, but certainly sufficient to transform boys into mice.

And still this ‘no-notes needed’ review can’t be done, not without commending Music Director Cat Beveridge and her tight, energized band, nor Co-Sound Designers Alexander Caplen & Ian Dickinson. Molloy’s percussive, tuneful score could hardly sound bigger or better, yet thanks to careful balance, not a single lyric is lost.

This granular look at the merits of The Witches, however unnecessary, will be incomplete without recognising Director Lyndsey Turner’s masterful weaving of script, score, cast, and crew. Dark Comedy with child victims isn’t a well-explored niche, and yet Turner nails the genre at the first time of asking. Pacey but unrushed, our heroes and villains career towards confrontation, through a cascade of events, fortunate and otherwise. No scene or musical number goes knowingly undersold, though the plot is never sacrificed for spectacle. This is a rollercoaster of a show, always fun, sometimes scary, and totally captivating.

Of course, with so many compliments paid, a reader would be justified in wanting to know a little more about the plot, and perhaps a few highlights. I acknowledge the volume of notes in this ‘no-notes needed’ review is swelling rather alarmingly, but…in for a penny?

The Witches sets its stall out from the top, the big opening number, ‘We’re not women, we’re Hell’ a stunning ensemble introduction to the show’s 21st-century coven in disguise as everyday women. Who they are (clawed, bald, with square toes), and what they want (to rid the world of the child menace) is illustrated in colourful detail and lavish choreography from Stephen Mear. This fiery manifesto’s final chorus is still ringing out as 10-year-old Luke takes the stage. Dreams of a puppy upon his 11th birthday turn to dust when he is orphaned in a car accident, the welfare system beckoning until his Norwegian Grandmother descends into his life, cigar in her teeth, and taking no prisoners.

Through her, Luke learns of the witch menace, and the importance of bathing no more than once a week, so his smell doesn’t attract their attentions. Kirkwood heightens the trauma of their situation beyond Dahl when Gran suffers a health crisis after saving him from a predatory lady with ‘pinchity shoes’, gloves, and a wig (the sure signs of a witch). The Hotel Magnificent, to which they sent for her convalescence prefers a ‘higher quality’ of guest, a tension well-milked for comedy before an abrupt turn for the uncomfortable. The Witches might have it in for children, but society has it in for the ‘other’.

Making matters immeasurably worse, the hotel is also where the Witches of England are holding their annual conference, overseen by the Grand High Witch, who plans to transform the entirety of child-kind into mice in one fell swoop. Our heroes’ and villains’ paths now crossed, none of them, not the witches, not Luke, not Bruno, and not Gran will ever be the same again.

Whilst maintaining the heart of Dahl’s plot and dark sensibilities, Kirkwood skilfully switches the original’s 80’s frame of reference for a more 21st-century world. Modern tech plays little part in proceedings, but this is a universe in which Tiktok exists – and allegedly makes children more odious as a result. Gran is also a more fleshed-out character than her paperback counterpart, the story behind her prosthetic thumb told in a particularly memorable musical vignette. She fears the witches, but she also owes them.

Comparisons with Matilda (the musical) are inevitable, but in truth, the two shows are very different animals. Here, our heroes aren’t geniuses with psychic superpowers, and a completely happy ending is ruled out early doors. It makes the show’s central anthem, the swelling and rhythmic ‘Get Up’ all the more powerful. Led with innocent courage by Chloe Raphael as Gran’s childhood best friend turned garden gnome, Helga, ‘Get Up’ is available to stream, so jump to it.

The mutually empowering love between Luke and his Gran is a precious, vulnerable thing, constantly threatened by faltering/changing physiology, time, and immortal, invulnerable witches. Their survival is far from assured, making The Witches a superbly fraught affair at times. The parlous atmosphere also makes Kingsley’s deliciously sultry performance of ‘Wouldn’t it be Nice’, that little bit more monstrously comic when tempting parents in attendance with dreams of (squished) childless liberty.

Time will tell if The Witches will enjoy longevity beyond this production’s outstanding assembly of talents, but a West End transfer seems the least London audiences can expect. The courage Kirkwood and Turner show in embracing Dahl’s more than nuanced conclusion certainly merits longevity. The orphan boy who grew up with his larger-than-life Gran about to finish writing this review thanks the show’s creators for trusting the power of that singular relationship to make lemonade from some bitter narrative lemons.

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The Witches will play the National Theatre, Southbank until January 27th 2024. For tickets, and more information, click here.

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