Reviewers are invited to a weekend afternoon performance of War Horse at The Lowry, which seems odd until you consider the source novel by Michael Morpurgo is aimed at younger readers. Not that Morpurgo and adaptor Nick Stafford pull any punches in depicting the horror and stupidity of war. Speaking of stupidity…
In the early 20th century, full of ale and resentment, farmer Ted Narracott (Karl Haynes) shows off and uses money intended for the mortgage to buy a thoroughbred racing colt. Against all odds, Narracott’s son Albert (Tom Sturgess) forms a bond with the colt (named Joey) who, as he matures, displays the essential qualities of a soldier: loyalty, initiative and bravery. Ted, however, cannot resist the opportunity to make a profit, and, as the First World War breaks out, sells Joey to the army. Although too young to serve, Albert, horrified by evidence the soldier who promised to take care of Joey has been killed in action, makes the rash decision to enlist.
Based upon the original direction by Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris, revival director Katie Henry sets a respectful atmosphere. John Tams’s mournful songs are performed live by Sally Swanson, who serves as a kind of narrator, commenting upon the grim scenes of war. The sole concession to the tender years of the target audience is the employment of the euphemism "Eff off", the grinding horror of armed conflict is unflinchingly depicted.
The play is a masterpiece of simple storytelling. Rather than a set, the stage is largely bare, with stark, hand-drawn animations (from Leo Warner and Mark Grimmer) projected onto a rip torn across the rear of the stage to move the action from rural Devon to war-torn Europe.
War Horse is not without sentiment, particularly in the relationship between Albert and Joey, but the mood darkens subtly. In the first act, a puppet goose gets laughs by terrorising anyone who comes within range of the beak. By act two, puppet carrion crows feast upon corpses. The reaction of a child, grown blasé about death, to finding a pair of dead soldiers is not to recoil in disgust but to search the bodies in the hope of finding chocolate. The overall effect is a loss of innocence while maintaining a glimmer of hope.
The cast are overshadowed by the stunning puppets from the Handspring Puppet Company. It takes twelve puppeteers in rotation to bring the puppets to life, and the effect is close to overwhelming. The play exploits the larger-than-life environment of live theatre, to allow the horses to develop vivid individual personalities. In Europe, Joey encounters Topthorn, a battle-hardened horse who has grown accustomed to the noise of war and so is, initially, dominant. Yet Joey retains his essential nobility despite his dreadful experiences.
The first of many ‘wow’ moments comes early in the first act as Joey transforms in seconds from an unsteady colt into a fully mature horse galloping towards the audience. The puppetry is performed with restraint, cast members climbing onto and riding the horses, Joey forming a relationship with a fellow beast of burden, but climaxes with an apocalyptic scene of a tank crashing onto the stage that is jaw-dropping. Small but vital details are easy to miss: the soldiers shot from the back of the horses by Gatling guns are puppets rather than cast members.
War Horse is a breathtaking demonstration of what can be achieved in live theatre and unmissable, thought-provoking entertainment.