If it’s not compulsory to have Bristol stalwart Tristan Sturrock in every Bristol Old Vic show yet, then it should be. Last seen doing his one-man show Mayday! Mayday! and as Long John Silver in Sally Cookson’s Treasure Island, Sturrock is on fine form swooping around the stage as Peter Pan. Cookson’s latest show is masterful: it retains enough of the whimsy of the original tale to be magical, but packs enough of a punch to please a modern audience, and even to keep my feminist hackles down.

Madeleine Worrall’s Wendy is allowed to be rather more kick-ass than usual – yes, she sews on Peter’s shadow, but she does it while grumbling about how useless he is and how much she hates sewing. The dodgier elements of the story (strange manchild kidnaps three children, the girl becomes surrogate mother to him and his band of lost children…) are glossed over, because Cookson’s production makes you believe in magic and fairies. It’s not too sugary, though, especially the band of rather butch mermaids in sequinned shorts and flippers…

This is the kind of ramshackle, held-together-with-tape theatre that only works if the entire cast are committed to the story, and in Peter Pan, Bristol Old Vic has a triumph. One can’t escape the feeling that most of the budget went on the flying (done with “fairy string”), but it doesn’t matter. The flying itself is unsubtle but full of infectious joy, and the make-shift feel suits the lost boys’ den and much of Neverland – we are constantly reminded that this mostly children playing at being grown ups. The set design (Michael Vale) is ingenious, particularly the traffic-cone crocodile and pirate ship in a skip, and captures perfectly childhood games where everyday objects are tranformed. It’s a clever tactic, and one that works beuatifully here.

Benji Bower’s music is fun, although a couple of numbers go on a bit too long. Stuart McLoughlin’s Captain Hook has a wonderful voice, and the pirates’ song about what they’re going to do when they capture Peter is a nicely judged mix of gore, horror and comedy. The children in the audience were having a wonderful time, judging by the amount of giggling and shouting out that went on, and the “do you believe in fairies?” scene went down well. But then, who wouldn’t want to save Saikat Ahamed’s hilarious, otherwordly Tinkerbell, in braces, tutu and DMs?

The cast multi-role with such alacrity that they occasionally re-enter as someone else before you realise they have exited. It must be a knackering two-and-a-bit hours, but they show no sign of strain, and bounce about their playground of a set with glee. The second half flags a bit, but this is the fault of the story rather than this production – all of JM Barrie’s sentimental stuff about mothers has to be fitted in somehow. A rousing fight scene and a touching homecoming lift the energy towards the end.

Those who are “young, innocent and heartless” can fly away to Neverland, and those of us who none of those things should be glad we were fleetingly allowed to join them.

Peter Pan is playing at Bristol Old Vic Theatre until 19 January 2013. For more information and tickets, see the Bristol Old Vic website.

In his new, skilfully told solo show at Bristol Old Vic, Tristan Sturrock performs the story of his own brush with death; a tumble from a wall in 2004 that left him with a broken neck. Sturrock and director Katy Carmichael do well to steer clear from staging the tale as a saccharine tearjerker, and yet the self-conscious theatricality of the piece becomes as much a source of frustration as it does of joy.

Before catching any glimpse of an actor, the production’s stripped-back design leaves no doubt that the following hour will draw heavy influence from the professional world which Sturrock inhabits – a rack of costumes, bulb-ringed dressing table mirror and a set of velvet drapes on wheels feature heavily. This in itself is no issue, though the style does have the potential to catch in one’s throat. Opening the piece with Sturrock, as assured showman, demonstrating his authorial power to dim and raise the lights to the dutiful ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the audience – for example – may ingratiate him as a performer, but also feels a little too smug and slick for a story that is really made of rawer stuff: difficulty, rehabilitation and grit.

It is, noticeably, when injections of hyper-theatricality correspond with moments that explore Sturrock’s predicament rather than simply recount it that some stunningly memorable coups de theatre occur. A dream sequence boasting a mesmerising feat of mirror work, a bravura portrayal of a self-aggrandising luvvie ‘giving his surgeon’ and a consistently exciting use of simple props to suggest complex ideas; here are the wholly worthwhile justifications for what is often a brazen rejection of naturalistic storytelling methods.

Dramatic style aside, this is an explicitly human story which provides Sturrock with plenty of opportunities to showcase his remarkable versatility as an actor. Playing himself at various stages in his life, as well as his girlfriend and his surgeon, a neighbour and an ambulance-man; as the single spot dims for a final time, you too will be hugely grateful to all the staff at Derriford Spinal Unit, Plymouth– the city where, perhaps not coincidentally, Mayday Mayday concludes its national tour later this year. For even with the occasional stylistic misstep, there is a fertile energy at the heart of Sturrock’s performance, and of his story, which goes some way to convincing that with the right mix of verve and gumption, anything might be possible.

Mayday Mayday is at Bristol Old Vic until February 4 before continuing on tour.

In March 2011, the Bristol Old Vic main auditorium closed for redevelopment. One can only admire the tenacity and endeavour of the theatre’s creative team for seeing what many predicted to be an inconvenience as an opportunity to think bigger than ever before: the studio space has become a thriving, flexible arena for new work, Sally Cookson’s Treasure Island saw King Street transformed into a piratical paradise, and now, to cap off the year, Melly Still channels the spirit of the city itself in Coram Boy at the Colston Hall.

Helen Edmundson’s adaptation of Jamila Gavin’s award-winning novel is Dickensian in scope, following the lives of characters as rich and diverse as the musically gifted Alexander Ashbrook, the handicapped, good-hearted Meshak and his villainously opportunistic father Otis Gardener, whose plot – promising to take women’s unwanted children to Thomas Coram’s Foundling Hospital in return for money before burying the newborns in the wood – binds the plenteous strands of the tale together. With such a sprawling theatrical tapestry to weave, success depends on toeing the magical line between grandiosity and intimacy, epic scale and simple storytelling. It is a balance which a team of over 150 have come together to strike.

There are some truly magnificent performances; Tristan Sturrock’s Otis swaggers, snarls and schemes so completely that even his wild mop of hair seems to exude arrogant menace, and as Alexander’s love interest, Melissa, Emily Head remains grounded and truthful even as the piece reaches its powerful but undoubtedly sentimental conclusion. The greatest plaudits must, however, go the local child cast; notably George Clark and Johannes Moore as the haughty young Alexander, and Thomas, his gregarious friend, respectively. Unlike some of the adult cast, these two never resort to histrionics in moments of high tension; watching these two fine young performers communicate the development of a friendship over shared musical ability, despite radically opposed social backgrounds, is a joy which in many ways surpasses the dignity and bombast of the mighty Handel finale.

Which is not to say that music doesn’t play a crucial role here – though there are moments when the 22-piece orchestra’s aural power makes the on-stage dialogue frustratingly inaudible, it is also the case that For unto us a child is born may never quite hold the same meaning again to any who pay attention to composer Adrian Sutton’s devastating use of the libretto in the chilling climax to Act I. The strength of Melly Still’s production are the subtle coups de théâtre such as the choice of moment for Freddie Hutchins’ to take over the role of Alexander from his younger counterpart, the haunting staging of a drowning behind a rippling plastic sheet, or indeed the comic majesty of Joe Hall’s wig (in a witty supporting performance as Handel himself), can stand equal in dramatic weight and emotional significance to the music which for many has been synonymous with Christmas for over 250 years.

Considering that Coram Boy counts the importance of family amongst its themes, the decision to populate the ensemble with local actors and musicians, in combination with Edmundson’s relocation of many central scenes to Bristol, resonates deeply; many acknowledge that theatre is collaboration – here, theatre is community. As such, though not everything is perfect, everything feels overwhelmingly authentic, and is, ultimately, going to make the people of Bristol who witness this true theatrical event very proud of their cultural landscape.

Coram Boy is playing at the Colston Hall until 30 December. For more information, see the Bristol Old Vic’s website.

It may have more dead babies than your average Christmas show, but Bristol Old Vic’s Coram Boy has all the other components of a knock-out. Coram Boy was first seen at the National in 2005 after Tom Morris (now Artistic Director of BOV) realised that his production of War Horse wasn’t going to be ready for Christmas and they needed another show. Nick Hytner’s goddaughter told him about a brilliant new novel she’d read, by Jamila Gavin, and Melly Still was called in to direct Coram Boy  for the stage.

Aimed firmly at the over-12s (panto this ain’t), Gavin’s tale of fathers and sons, of music, murder and mayhem, translates wonderfully onto the stage. With clever incorporation of Handel’s Messiah (which is both part of the story and background to the action), Still’s production is here performed on the huge, open stage of Colston Hall, which is more usually a concert venue, as BOV is still undergoing refurbishment. This is community theatre at its absolute best – a professional cast joined by an (extremely impressive) community chorus, venues co-operating, local kids in the child cast: it has heart and feels very rooted, locally.

This is a beautiful tale, one that deals with fathers and sons in many guises. Helen Edmundson’s script does not hold back, and is unashamedly schmaltzy at times, but the wonderful costumes and sheer ostentation of having an orchestra and full chorus onstage make it easy to forgive the odd over-done line.

The music is sublime, of course. Adrian Sutton has taken liberties with Handel to great effect; we get snippets of the Messiah throughout, including a deliciously dark take on ‘Unto Us a Child Is Born’ sung over the grim business of the Coram Man, who does away with babes in the woods. Finishing with the Halelujah chorus is a nice – but necessary – touch to end on a high after a rather dark evening.

There is a serious streak of melancholy running throughout this show; even the reunions are tempered by the years lost to stubbornness and the friends lost along the way. As Handel (played with dodgy accent by Joe Hall) tells adult Alexander (Freddie Hutchins) to “find his joy” you can’t help but agree (for a fleeting moment at least). Fortunately, after nearly three hours of gore and near constant lumps-in-the-throat, we do get some redemption at the end, and at least one lost child is returned to his family. Phew.

There were moments where the production felt a bit too “staged” for my taste – it was not an especially naturalistic performance, not helped by the fact that in a space the size of the Colston Hall the actors had to be miked. The delivery (and I can only assume this was a directorial decision) was quite enunciated and actorly, with many lines being spoken outwards rather than to another character. At times, this felt a bit like a semi-staged opera or musical, rather than a play with music. I quite liked the fact that it spanned genres – and the music was terrific – but it did niggle a bit when this style of delivery made it harder for the cast to portray relationships.

However, the majority of the cast were fabulous, especially Tristan Sturrock’s extremely cold and scary Otis Gardiner (the Coram Man). Sturrock’s gimlet stare is pretty piercing in the third row, and he really embodies calculating evil beneath a thin veneer of respectability. Fionn Gill is a well-judged, wide-eyed and stumbling Meshak, giving him a good mix of vulnerability and cunning. Emily Head’s Melissa portrays a woman in turmoil extremely well without over-doing it, and Finn Lacey is an appealing Aaron. The star of the child cast is George Clark as the young Alexander – his achingly pure soprano soars through Colston Hall.

This is not your usual Christmas fare, but if you want an epic show that will make you appreciate your warm house and want to go and hug your Mum, then it’s well worth girding your loins, packing your tissues and getting down to Colston Hall.

Coram Boy is playing at the Colston Hall until 30 December. For more information, see the Bristol Old Vic’s website.