Photo (c) Jane Hobson.

 

Southwark Playhouse’s innovative and beautiful production of Howl’s Moving Castle is the first time that Diana Wynne-Jones’ novel has been brought to the stage. It is a visual treat, backed up by a strong cast, and rattles through its 80-minutes at a rate of knots.

The visuals are the most striking thing about the production, with Davy and Kristin McGuire’s intricately detailed projections taking us from creepy castle to mountaintop to forest in a second. The animations zip about the pop-up style cardboard set, embodying Calcifer the fire demon (James Wilkes) or the moving castle itself with wit and a real sense of magic.

However, even ignoring a few technical wobbles and the fact that the sound levels were a bit dodgy (it was a preview), there was a feeling that this production has sometimes sacrificed substance for style. The story has been cut back rather brutally in Mike Sizemore’s adaptation; the pace is extremely fast and often means that plot details are rushed through, unexplained or left frustratingly ambiguous. I can’t help but feel that if you did not know the story, through either the novel or Studio Ghibli’s gorgeous film version, that you might struggle to follow Sophie’s (Kristin McGuire/Susan Sheridan) adventures.

It is extremely stylish to look at, enhanced by Fyfe Dangerfield’s music and Jerry Ibbotsen’s sound, and Tim Bray’s atmospheric lighting. The piece is not lacking in heart, but the speed with which we are shown amazing visual after amazing visual means that the narrative gets a bit neglected. Parts of the plot are glossed over so quickly that they just didn’t make sense. Sheridan, as Old Sophie, is particularly adept at interacting with the moving backdrop, and Daniel Ings plays Howl with a kind of wry, camp amusement – but not much threat. We never feel that Sheridan’s Sophie is in danger, except when she falls into the clutches of McGuire’s excellently malevolent Witch of the Waste. I think this captures the heart of the problem, for me: the speed of the narrative means that we never really understand why Sophie is “special”, why the Witch of the Waste curses her, or feel that she is in enough danger to make us become emotionally involved. It looks gorgeous, but is a bit too light on plot.

However, I am sure that these niggles will be ironed out as the run continues, and that this will become the entirely absorbing and clever show that it almost was in preview. With Stephen Fry’s mellifluous tones echoing around The Vaults of Southwark Playhouse, this production captures the sense of wonder that our heroine feels as she is whisked along on a whirlwind adventure.