Review: Matilda The Musical – Edinburgh Playhouse

There is an undeniable, infectious energy to the Royal Shakespeare Company’s touring production of Matilda The Musical. It barrels into the Edinburgh Playhouse on a wave of kinetic choreography, towering Scrabble-tile sets, and Tim Minchin’s ferociously clever wordplay. Yet, for all its spectacular theatrical machinery, Dennis Kelly and Minchin’s take on Roald Dahl’s beloved novel remains a curiously muted adaptation.

For the uninitiated, the story follows a wildly gifted, book-devouring five-year-old born to aggressive anti-intellectuals. Neglected at home and terrorised at school, she discovers latent telekinetic powers and mounts a spirited resistance.

Where Dahl’s original magical realist tale pits this pint-sized heroine against a genuinely terrifying headmistress, Kelly and Minchin stage a simpler rebellion against stereotypically awful grown-ups. The result is a production rich with the story’s greatest hits, but one that fundamentally lacks the dark, compassionate heart of Dahl’s text.

A Droll and Defiant Heroine

Reviewed on its own merits, however, the show is a fairly excellent affair, not least due to a superb performance from charismatic Madison Davis in the title role. Sharing the demanding part in rotation with three other young actors, Davis makes for a compelling and quintessentially English heroine, combining the assertive sass of orphan Annie with the droll sensibility of an Ealing Comedy lead. Her delivery of Minchin’s erudite songbook—particularly her manifesto of mischief, ‘Naughty’—is sharp and precise.

She also serves as a captivating storyteller, anchoring the show’s quieter interludes. Her beefed-up relationship with Esther Niles’ wonderfully warm librarian, Mrs Phelps, offers a pleasant aside from the principal chaos. Here, the ESP-laced story of the Escapologist and the Acrobat that Matilda spins makes for a series of fascinating, surprisingly emotional narrative detours.

Reviewed on its own merits, however, the show is a fairly excellent affair, not least due to a superb performance from charismatic Madison Davis in the title role.

Standing in her way, Adam Stafford and Rebecca Thornhill make suitably grotesque parents. Stafford is a dodgy car-salesman to the bone, glorifying the goggle-box in the garish Act Two opener ‘Telly’. Thornhill is a delightfully awful, glamour-obsessed amateur dance champion, chewing the scenery during the salsa-inflected ‘Loud’ alongside her overly flexible partner, Rudolpho.

The Limits of Pantomime

It falls to Richard Hurst in hulking drag to bring the school despot, Miss Trunchbull, into larger-than-life existence. It is a bravura turn culminating with an all-guns-blazing ode to her worldview, “The Smell of Rebellion”, during her second-act apogee of awfulness.

It has been tradition for a male actor to take the part since Bertie Carvel created it in the original West End run. This absurdist, panto-esque move offers ample opportunities for humour, and Kelly and Director Matthew Warchus seize upon these at every opportunity. Her insults begin wildly over-the-top and escalate from there, whilst masculine physicality adds undeniable heft when it is time to cast a pigtailed classmate out of a window or threaten the iron-maiden horrors of the Chokey.

The cost, however, is felt in the character’s fatal lack of actual malice. You do not see many genuine child abusers cheered on or wolf-whistled by a theatre crowd. Emma Thompson cut a far more intimidating figure in the recent film adaptation, and the musical would benefit immensely from finally casting a woman in the role. It is acceptable to scare young audiences, and it is certainly not misogynist to allow monstrosity to manifest in female characters.

Spectacle, Schoolmates, and Sound

Elsewhere, Tessa Kadler’s Miss Honey makes an adequate ally amongst the otherwise hostile grown-up contingent. Complete with a lovely singing voice—put to fine, melancholic use in ‘My House’—she cuts a likeable figure, even if she is written rather more fecklessly than her literary inspiration.

The big set pieces are suitably glorious. Rob Howell’s set captures the spirit of Quentin Blake’s illustrated grotesquerie, providing a brilliant playground for Peter Darling’s first-rate choreography. The staging of ‘When I Grow Up’, with children soaring out over the stalls on playground swings, is a genuine coup de théâtre. So too is the desk-stomping rebellion of ‘Revolting Children’, spearheaded by a superb Carter-J Murphy as Bruce Bogtrotter. Murphy—who also shares his heavy-lifting track in rotation with a team of young performers—nails his big vocal moments with flair, riding high on the triumph of his earlier chocolate-cake conquest.

However, beyond Bogtrotter’s moments in the spotlight, much of the individuality and character of Matilda’s classmates is lost in translation from page to stage. The production flattens the ensemble, stripping away the distinct quirks of her peers to make Matilda a rather lone lodestone for scholastic defiance.

This reliance on a unified, high-octane ensemble also creates technical hurdles. Simon Baker’s big, bold sound design requires serious tuning when playing an enormous room like the Edinburgh Playhouse. Take ‘School Song’, where the older pupils welcome the new arrivals with a brilliantly cynical, rapid-fire alphabet of warnings.

The big set pieces are suitably glorious. Rob Howell’s set captures the spirit of Quentin Blake’s illustrated grotesquerie, providing a brilliant playground for Peter Darling’s first-rate choreography.

Minchin’s wordplay is the intellectual engine of the show, full of internal rhymes and wicked double-meanings. When the sound design pushes the orchestrations to strident crescendos, those intricate lyrics are swallowed by the sheer volume of the mix. It’s frustrating to say the least.

Furthermore, the production would benefit from indulging its quieter moments to allow the story’s philosophy to mature. Where Dahl makes Matilda’s visit to Miss Honey’s spartan cottage an almost mystical experience, here it operates simply as a narrative means to an end. Like I say, judged as an adaptation, Kelly and Minchin do leave plenty to be desired.

Yet, it is difficult to hold a grudge against a production this visually and musically dynamic. For all these structural gripes, the sheer theatrical audacity of Warchus’s direction frequently overrides its flaws. When the young ensemble locks into Darling’s razor-sharp, stomp-heavy routines, the result is undeniably thrilling. There is a satisfying catharsis in watching a stage full of oppressed pupils finally turn the tables, armed with little more than chalk, newts, and righteous indignation. Even when the acoustics blunt the finer points of Minchin’s wordplay, his melodic hooks remain infectious, driving a fiercely entertaining spectacle that refuses to let the audience’s attention wander.

Matilda the Musical remains a highly polished, energetic machine that reliably delivers a strong night of musical theatre. It simply leaves a little of Dahl’s nuanced magic at the school gates.

Featured Image: Matilda The Musical UK Tour September 2025 Yellow Team with Madison Davis as Matilda