Drama blazes on all fronts in the powerfully moving, cliff-hanger story of Joey, the farm horse from Devon, forced to undergo endless, appalling traumas as a war horse in WWI. To thunderous acclaim, Joey first reared up onstage in 2007 when phenomenal puppetry skills breathed life and reality into a mighty, life-size, frame-based model in Nick Stafford’s award-winning play adaptation of Michael Morpurgo’s 1982 novel. Spielberg’s film version by Richard Curtis and Lee Hall went on to further flesh out the story in 2011.
Setting the entire horror and chaos of trench warfare and the battle of the Somme onstage is a challenge: having a horse play the central character is a challenge and a half at least, but it’s this mastery of theatricality and puppetry that so mesmerises and delights each and every audience. Establishing a forever bond of loyalty and friendship, teenager Albert Narracott and Joey, a wobbly colt who becomes a giant of a handsome beast, face together the hardships of an impoverished life on a Devon farm until the grotesque cruelties of war throw them apart and each separately undergoes a series of hellish ordeals. Multiple personal dramas unfold all round in the relationships, interactions and strong bonds that form between human and human, human and horse, and horse with horse, regardless of which side of the war they‘re on.
Some characters, relationships and events are not as fully developed or well-rounded as in the subsequent film version – Albert’s parents, Emilie and her grandmother (formerly grandfather), for instance – and various episodes differ in book, play and film, but, Tom Sturgess’s Albert gains in conviction and intensity as he matures through Act II, the emotion of the piece is carried admirably to its tear-jerking climax. Playing wonderfully the warm German officer, Friedrich Muller, is Alexander Ballinger. Like Albert, sensitive, caring, family-man Muller bonds strongly with Joey and exactly like the young English soldiers, he, too, detests the waste, futility and senselessness of war. Meanwhile, Gareth Radcliffe injects welcome humour into dark times with his typically loud, sarcastic, down-to-earth Northerner Sergeant with a brash but caring side.
The innovative stagecraft and beautiful artistry throughout are outstanding. Along with masterly puppetry, lighting plays a particularly crucial role, enhancing the blended components of music, set, props and action to create and splendidly maintain atmosphere and impetus. Particularly gripping are the wonderfully lit war scenes in Act II, where slow motion scenes also enter the mix. For clarity and full visual impact, the actors and models are set against a jet-black background at stage level; a torn-edged parchment ribbon displays fine pencil sketches above this, mainly monochrome, sometimes gently animated, depicting season, location, date and events, turning bright with colour for flags or as blood spills and spreads into poppies. With the strip at a higher level than the onstage action, a bit of eye-flitting is required, though whenever the graphics closely echo the action below, the strip blends seamlessly – as when silhouetted troops merge on both levels or bright explosions rage across both spaces. Artistic interplays of light, shadow, slow-swirling mists and smoke are used to superb effect on the dark stage, while carefully chosen props are deployed, too, with great artistry. The alarming, overbearing, skeletal tank that causes Joey to rear up and flee is really something to behold; impressive, too, are details like the innovated barbed wire and the long bars held by actors to represent fences or the prow of a ship.
As these dark and terrible times demonstrate the futility of war and mankind’s capacity for cruelty and destruction, no matter what nation they’re from, the story ultimately celebrates the triumph of hope and mankind’s capacity for courage and unwavering love. Carrying the piece full circle through the bad times and good is Adrian Sutton’s music soundtrack, supplemented by John Tams’ songs. Sung folk style by rurally dressed Sally Swanson, these are performed a capella, with accordion, with soundtrack, or with live, harmonising chorus, serving to further the narrative, voice underlying sentiment or sing a goodbye to Dolly Grey. Another special touch has a soldier bugle his bugle-calls offstage from a box.
Above all, of course, as we’re taken through Joey’s and Albert’s grueling, yet ultimately uplifting, journeys through life, death and loss, through courage, fear, hope and despair, through cruel hostilities and hatred, and through unwavering camaraderie, humour, friendship and love, it’s the spectacle of Joey and fellow mighty horse, Topthorn, that no-one can take their eyes off. Three skilled puppeteers, two of them seen only as cleverly choreographed legs in trousers, are dressed discreetly in rural or military garb in keeping with their horse. Other horses with briefer roles appear too. Realistically recreating the subtle, supple muscle movements, head-tossings, twitches, capers and powerful, spirited rearings of a live horse, the operators breathe life and character into the towering beings; tails flick, ears twitch, legs flex and stamp as snorts and grunts emerge, and shy flight or courageous, galloping, bucking fight modes kick in – or out. Naturally, there’s thunderous applause for the mighty horses and their operators, but plenty besides for the cheeky, humorous goose on wheely legs, who never quite makes it through the front door. Quite right, too.
Eileen Caiger Gray
