Put this blog down NOW and go and find a credit or debit card. (Preferably your own, but if for some reason you can't find one of your own, then, well, .......... needs must and all that. Not that I'm not condoning petty larceny or anything.) Got one? Good. Now, here's the box-office website; click that link, and book yourself a ticket. RIGHT NOW. If you are the kind of person who gets a bit squeamish about going to the theatre on your own, then book two tickets; you can worry about finding someone to come with you later. Hey, I'll even come if you like. Just GO AND BOOK NOW. (I'd pay that little bit extra and sit in the stalls, if I were you. But I'll let you decide that for yourself: I don't want to be too militant. Just GO AND BOOK YOUR TICKET(S) NOW.)
Done? Have you checked your email for confirmation details? Written down the booking reference somewhere nice and safe? Excellent. You may resume reading.
I am not normally this bossy. In fact, in real life, I'm not bossy at all. (Occasionally guilty of employing passive-aggressive manipulation techniques to get my own way, if the occasion calls for it, but definitely not bossy. Ask anyone.) But I saw Warhorse recently (no, really? I hear you ask) and loved loved loved loved loved it. In fact, I would even go as far as to say that Warhorse is quite simply
The. Best. Theatre. Experience. I. Have. Ever. Had.
I don't use those words (or those full-stops) lightly. They come from someone who saw Luke Perry's bare bum in the stage production of When Harry Met Sally. Twice.**Seriously, though, I do see a reasonable amount of theatre, and not all of it features ex-members of the 90210 cast getting their kit off, and I can't remember the last time a production blew me away as much as Warhorse did. I took my Mum, and she loved it too.
It is phenomonally good, for all kinds of reasons: of course there's the terrific story, which is based on the book by Michael Morpurgo, so its brilliance is almost a given. I raced out and bought a copy the next day (also Farm Boy, which is the sequel) but haven't had a chance to read it yet so I'm not sure how much of the dialogue came from the original text and how much of it was made up by Nick Stafford, who wrote the stage adaptation. What I can say is the language used is beautiful and powerful and evocative. Phrases like "shooting their bullets into our bones" have been haunting me for days.
Technically it's brilliant; the set is very simple but is brought to life by clever lighting, audiovisual projections and sounds. Attention to detail was really impressive; tiny, subtle touches - the sound of seagulls in thre distance, for instance - added volumes to the tone and atmosphere in the room.
Then, of course, there are the animals. You might have heard the rumours; there are some horses in Warhorse. (They go to war.) You might also have heard the rumours that there aren't any actual horses on the stage - just pretend, puppet ones.
They don't look anything like that. But I imagine that the above, or something similar, is what most people conjure up when they imagine horse puppets. The ones on stage, though, were absolutely nothing like this; they were incredibly constructed and creatively engineered, and most importantly they were completely and utterly convicing. The people operating them, who were visible on the stage but barely noticeable, managed to capture even the slightest moves; a tiny shift of the ears, a twitch of skin, the rise and fall of each breath. Again, it was the attention to detail which was astounding; more than once I had to remind myself that these weren't living, breathing, creatures on the stage.
There were other animals, too: a comedy goose practically stole the show*** in the first half, adding some welcome light relief, while later, during battle scenes, black crows pecked at the bodies of dying soldiers and horses. It was a small but brutal addition; the added poignancy struck deeply.
Once you have seen it (what do you MEAN you haven't booked? Do you not listen?! DO IT NOW for goodness sake) you will be in good company. As you may have heard, Steven Spielberg saw the production a while ago, and is now working on a film version. I'm a bit worried about this; I simply can't see how it will work as a film. As I watched these creatures on stage and witnessed the actors interact with them I found myself falling just as much in love with them as the characters did. This caused a complete cognitive dissonance; on the one hand I could see with my own eyes that these were just constructions of wood, metal and plastic, being propelled around the stage by humans, but on the other my brain simply refused to process that fact. As far as I was concerned those horses were real, even though I knew they couldn't possibly be. It was nothing short of pure magic. I'm not convinced that magic won't be lost on screen, but I really, really, hope I'm wrong.
*If you are not in or near London, find a way to get yourself to somewhere which is in or near London, and then follow these instructions.
**I appreciate that this comparison will mean more to some readers than others
***I typed that as "stole the shoe" by mistake, initially; which made me think: there's a phrase which is just crying out to be used as a euphemism. For what, though, I have absolutely no idea. Answers on a postcard, please.
