Look, we all know that for most, it’s all about the horse. And rightly so.

Adrian Kohler and Handspring Puppet Company’s astonishing equine creations remain, almost two decades later, truly beguiling visions on the stage. In movement, performance and as feats of engineering alone, ‘Joey’ and friends – including that scene-stealing goose – remain a wonder.

And yet, in the current turbulent geopolitical landscape, it’s sobering to be reminded just how effectively War Horse resonates on the first half of its titular couplet, too. This is as moving, thought-provoking and deeply human a theatrical exploration of war as any of its contemporaries.

Set in the lead up and over the course of World War I, War Horse follows young Albert Narracott (Tom Sturgess) as he raises a young foal his father (Karl Haynes) drunkenly buys at auction.

The hearty, Devonshire-set first half predominately focuses on the dynamic between Albert and ‘Joey’, developing their bonds of trust, defying expectations as both grow (in Joey’s case, quite literally and magnificently). It’s a charmingly bucolic and earnest dive into pre-War Britain, with hooks such as a bet over whether or not Joey the hunting horse will be able to plough sewing the seeds for later, war-torn set pieces.

As the interval approaches, and the shadow of Wilhelm II looms large, the declaration of war brings the unflinching purpose and wrenching drama of War Horse to bear. An impressive steed, Joey is shipped off to Europe to engage in the war efforts as an officer’s mount, but young Albert is determined to get his beloved horse back.

It remains a story of decidedly two halves, and although the initial focus is fairly fixed on the Narracotts, the second Act blooms into far more of an ensemble piece. More than ever, the time and care original author Michael Morpurgo and book adapter Nick Stafford take in humanising all sides and facets of the war conflict feels especially timely and resonant.

“…the time and care original author Michael Morpurgo and book adapter Nick Stafford take in humanising all sides and facets of the war conflict feels especially timely and resonant.”

For sure, we get a couple of boo-hissable sorts. Jack Lord’s scarred, horse-whipping Private Klausen is about as cookie cutter as they come, but for the most part War Horse’ ensemble eschew tropes and shine with nuanced and endearing characters caught up amidst the brutality and devastation. Chris Williams’ kindly Lieutenant Nicholls is a keen artist who sketches Joey in his down time. Alexander Ballinger’s Captain Müller deserts the war effort to become an orderly and take care of the horses whilst also protecting a young French girl (Diany Samba-Bandza) whose home has been claimed by the war effort.

Even obnoxious cousin Billy (Haydn Burke) is remoulded by the horrors and reality of war. And a late-game ceasefire in no man’s land is not only buoyed by some genuinely enjoyable and pompous banter from the Brits, but is another reminder of shared humanity transcending borders and conflict divides.

It’s wonderful, affecting stuff and the cost and senselessness brutality of war are frequently felt; War Horse is certainly not sparing in dispatching even major characters. Prepare the tissues for a late farewell to one of its main animal cast, too.

The company assembled for the current tour more than do justice to the great material and theatrical wizardry they are playing with. Tom Sturgess is a sincere and lovable Albert, whilst Jo Castleton and Karl Haynes feel earthy and real as his struggling (and later worry-struck) parents. Sally Swanson lends a resonant, almost folklike aura to proceedings as she regularly provides delightful on-stage vocals and song to the show’s more emotive or sombre beats.

But arguably the most affecting, transfixing performances of the evening once again come from the masterful team of puppet performers who bring Joey (both young and old) and his frenemy ‘Topthorn’ to life. Tom Quinn, Lewis McBean and Michael Larcombe as adult Joey, Matthew Lawrence, Rafe Young and Felicity Donnelly as Topthorn and Eloise Beaumont-Wood, Diany Samba-Bandza and Jordan Paris as foal Joey all work absolute magic on the stage. The ticks, mannerisms and behavioural quirks they imbue merges performance, imagination and craftsmanship into not only illusion, but also character.

“…arguably the most affecting, transfixing performances of the evening once again come from the masterful team of puppet performers…”

On the subject of craftsmanship, War Horse remains a gorgeous, opulent spectacle elsewhere, too. Nicol Scott and Ben Pearcy’s wonderful animation and projection work, coupled with Rae Smith’s gorgeous art cast backdrops that are equal parts transportive, majestic and terrifying throughout. Rob Casey builds on Paule Constable’s lighting and syncs with Christopher Shutt’s fantastic sound to convey both the warmth of the Devonshire idyll and French countrysides with the stark, uncompromising noise and horror of the trenches and wartime Europe.

Director Tom Morris and revival director Katie Henry bring Joey and friends back to the stage a time where it could be scarcely more resonant or needed. It is, across the board, a showcase of superlative creative teams and performers synthesising to craft a near-faultless piece of truly dazzling theatre. A staple, a tentpole, a classic of its time and deservedly one of the most successful theatrical productions of the 21st Century.

Long may it rein.

It’s probably fair to say that many audiences tend to be a touch more forgiving and receptive to anything with a lash of the festive about it. Repetition becomes tradition; the familiar becomes the favourite. Whilst not quite to same level of ubiquity as, say, A Christmas Carol, most will agree that Narnia has been done. In print, on screen (large and small, with a new Netflix adaptation in the works as of writing) and indeed on stage. Or at least so far as its first, iconic instalment (I don’t detect much of a clamour for a stage adaptation of Prince Caspian).

Even this very production of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which houses itself at the Birmingham Rep for Christmas 2023 (and indeed for an early chunk of 2024, to boot), has already done the rounds in Birmingham a few times over.

And yet, whether it is the moody ambience of its staging, the magical whimsy that crackles through its puppetry and performances, or the bewitching, haunting throb of its folksy music, this trip to Narnia feels as fresh and inviting as those first crisp steps out of the wardrobe.

It starts bold; the journey of the four Pevensie children (Daniel Apea, Kudzu Mangombe, Jerome Scott and Liyah Summers) from home to wardship in wartime England casts stark, juddering beams from on high to simulate a cold, mechanical and uninviting train journey. Cath Whitefield’s (more on whom, later) stiff and waspish Mrs Macready offers little warmth or comfort (though a few giggles, courtesy of her sheer, unimpressed rigidity) upon arrival.

Benji Bower and Barnaby Race’s score offers urgency and even some flashes of Zimmer-esque modernity, with just enough infusions of the fantastical dancing at the edges.

Of course, eventually we follow the children on their journey through the titular gateway, and what were mere hints of fantasy and wonderment are fully let loose. Fabrics cascade down to form the hut of kindly fawn, Mr Tumnus (a beautifully delicate Jez Unwin, who does great work with one of the show’s best numbers). Streaks of ice and light ebb through cracks in the stage floor when magic is invoked, or hope ignited. The mighty Lion Aslan is dual performed, as both Oliver Hoare’s fur-robed majesty and a jaw-dropping behemoth of a triple-manned puppet. Whitefield’s villainous white witch, Jadis, lifts and floats around the stage with malevolent authority on her industrial chariot-cum-crane.

…And just you wait until she channels her inner Cirque du Soleil to summon forth her minions for war.

It may sound rote, but there’s something about the look, sound, feel and fabric of this production that regularly feels magical.

Whilst not quite a musical, it certainly boasts a considerable number of set pieces that tiptoe, prance or, in the case of a certain crimson gift-giver, even jolly jaunt their way very close to feeling like one. This particular writer still has ‘Myra the gift-giver… SinterKlaas!’ stuck on repeat in his head some days later.

The Earthy, folk nature of much of the music, with its laments to spirits of nature and water, and odes to Springtime, are gorgeous, and often beautifully accompanied by actor-musos weaving about the stage.

“Whilst not quite a musical, it certainly boasts a considerable number of set pieces that tiptoe, prance or even jolly jaunt their way very close to feeling like one.”

It’s mostly left to the Narnians to deliver up the song and dance, which makes it something of a pity that Jadis herself doesn’t get any sort of villainous refrain, but overall the music is one of the richest and most enjoyable reasons for this new version of Lion to exist.

As a fairly faithful adaptation of the source material, some of the inherent storytelling stumbles of this first part of the Narnia saga remain intact. Its high levels of kid-friendly cuteness (beavers, otters and squirrels, oh my!) can occasionally clash with the heavier concepts of war, murder and monarchy. Perils are undone almost as quickly as they are introduced, and the heavier pseudo-Christian undertones can feel a trifle old hat in 2023.

But these are minor and mostly forgettable quibbles. Michael Fentiman directs a fluid, punchy adventure filled with wonderment and delight within the playground of Tom Paris’ design work, Jack Knowles’ lighting and Tom Marshall’s fantastic and evocative sound work.

The four Pevensie kids put in warm turns, with Summers something of a standout as principled, take-charge Susan. Whitefield is fantastic as the show’s villainess throughout, with Shane Antony-Whiteley showcasing impressive physicality and intimidating presence as her chief lieutenant, Maugrim. Michael Larcombe, meanwhile, occasionally threatens to steal scenes out from under both of them as the hilarious head ‘cruel’ – a minion who seems to have graduated from the Andy Serkis school of hunched wretchedness.

Samuel Morgan-Grahame and Ruby Ablett offer up some further comic lightness as a pair of bickering but well-meaning beavers, along with David Birrell who bookends the show with his quirky, deadpan professor.

In all, the vibrant and immersive staging, hearty performances and transportive, gorgeous music layer a blanket of fresh snow over a familiar tale. This is a handsome, impressive slice of theatre that makes for an easy recommendation for families and theatregoers over Christmas and the New Year.

We may have been through the wardrobe many times over, and in many different forms, but off the back of this rich, vivid production, this particular trip to Narnia is comfortably one of the best yet.