.png)
45 minutes ago
1
The Egg theatre has made a tradition of festive plays about inquisitive animals. A couple of years ago, Midnight Mole burrowed through a Chekhov-inspired cherry orchard. Back in 2019, the irresistibly nutty yet chic Squirrel, which returns to London’s Unicorn next month, was sheer perfection. But the Egg’s most enduring Christmas critter is Snow Mouse, the puppet star of a popular early years show. It’s now been multiplied for this new hourlong adventure aimed at slightly older audiences, aged three to nine.
After a trio of mice fly in like Mary Poppins, clinging on to brollies with their tails swinging, we meet three children who have reluctantly moved from the city to the countryside. The reason is unspoken – perhaps a divorce, as the eldest child, Megan (Nikki Warwick), speaks of her embarrassment. Her sister Juliette (Linda Scaramella) is a bookworm seeking everyday excitement to rival her novels while the youngest, Timmy (Martin Bonger), is a slightly fragile bundle of excitement.
These town mice learn to love their new home thanks to the resident rodents who appear to them in turn and encourage them to find wonder in their surroundings. In doing so, the kids learn to stop griping and work as a team of equals, regardless of their ages. But the show is gratifyingly neither didactic nor schmaltzy – there’s a whisker of danger when Megan goes missing and Juliette relishes the potential tragedy with grotesque glee.
Under a glacier-like cloud, Zoe Squire’s set features a doll’s house that turns into bunk beds and when snow falls the whole auditorium is transformed into a cosy den. A diaphanous sheet is dragged over the audience as the siblings speak of a landscape newly covered as if by a giant white duvet. Boosted by Katy Morison’s lighting design, the effect is entrancing and, briefly, has the stillness of freshly laid snow.
This co-production with New International Encounter is tightly directed by Alex Byrne, co-written by Byrne, Kate Cross and Georgia Casimir, with devising by the cast and composer Greg Hall. The actors join in on various instruments but it is Hall, dressed with charming incongruity in tux and bow tie, who plays the bulk of a score that blends mystery and mischief. It’s a great fit for the daredevil mice in dungarees who do a jig when promised cheese on toast and have a habit of disappearing. The theatre is intimate enough for everyone to get a good look at the puppets, made by Marc Parrett based on Edwina Bridgeman’s design, and directed by Chris Pirie.
The cast are dab hands at improvising with the audience and also share a realistic sibling dynamic – there’s a clever parallel to the brothers and sisters in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, read by Megan. This is the time of year that most theatres adapt just such an existing IP for their children’s shows but the Egg has proved that you can grow your own instead – and even turn them into a festive franchise.
