Tales of folklore and myth brought to life with imaginative stagecraft
Couple Jolie (Hanora Kamen) and Robert (Raj Bajaj) have just moved to a village outside of Bristol with their young son Lanny (Lucian Thomas, alternating with Atlas Johnson-Dutfield). Charming and innocent, he quickly becomes swept up in the neighbours’ warnings of the folklore legend of Dead Papa Toothwort.
Bea Roberts’ spirited adaptation of Max Porter’s award-winning novel of the same name paints a picture of the urban-rural divide, the power of storytelling and a search for English identity.
The play’s beating heart is the standout performance of Kamen, who plays the lovable Jolie in an entirely assured manner. Her chemistry with Bajaj is undeniable and the pair’s differing approaches to raising Lanny gives a good initial sense of the play’s direction; Jolie is keener to instil Lanny with a sense of adventure and wonder, whilst Bajaj keeps him rooted in the ‘real world’, never seeming to escape the city they have moved from. The conflict comes to dire straits thanks to the adept plotting of Roberts’ adaptation and resists easily casting either parent as the antagonist.
Richard Cant is astutely observed as Pete, an ageing artist who befriends the family, equally brilliant in moments of gentleness and dark as he becomes all the talk of this tight-knit community. There’s a beautiful moment as Pete explains to Lanny that telling stories and myths has the effect of “breathing life” into the world, and it is in these extended sequences that we see the craft of Roberts. We want to linger here as we see the magic of the natural world and the traditions of the village with the same joyous imagination as Lanny. Shorter, montage-like moments tend to dampen the pace that Roberts otherwise builds throughout.
Director Nancy Medina has a strong grasp of stagecraft and under the skilful hand of Rebecca Jane Wood’s design, the stage becomes almost like a dollhouse as the different environments open up throughout. Elements of English folk horror creep through, to some convincing effect, as the production gets into its prime in the second half, even if the change lacks any sense of transition. It’s a production rooted in the setting of the West Country and some rather obvious references to Bristol add a humour and warmth in this flagship production for Bristol Old Vic’s 260th season.
But the underbelly of darkness could have lent itself to having more flesh. There is a spikiness as the community turns in on itself (the growth of Reform and talk of racial politics is hinted at) but it doesn’t quite reflect the atmosphere that is intended. With a smaller number of secondary characters (that the ensemble cast grasp well, particularly Amanda Lawrence), you could imagine this twist being pulled off with a stronger impact. It doesn’t feel like we reach the peak of what both Roberts’ writing and Medina’s direction seems to suggest throughout.
The adaptation does sadly struggle to translate Porter’s infamous hybrid prose and poetic style. Glimpses of these lines are projected throughout (design by Christopher Harrison) but don’t fully take us into the world Roberts seeks to conjure. The moments of naturalism around the family are well-drawn but you slightly wish for more of the surreal flashes throughout. The voice of the village is brought to life skilfully by design from Dom Coyote, Elena Peña and Dave Price as choral music, folk song and the sounds of the natural world erupt throughout. However, it doesn’t do enough to bring together the strangeness that Porter so wonderfully articulated.
Lanny continues at Bristol Old Vic until 7th Nov. Tickets here.