Stig of the Dump
West Yorkshire Playhouse, Leeds
****
Although Stig of the Dump is a children's adventure, it will appeal to anybody who was captivated early in life by Clive King's classic 1963 novel, or anyone who is still a child at heart. In fact, you'd have to have been born a fully-formed, cold-hearted 75-year-old not to find innocent pleasure in this Natasha Betteridge-directed fantasy-cum-romp.
The story - if, unlike most Britons between the ages of seven and 47, you managed to miss the book - revolves around Barney and Stig. Barney is the day-dreaming, eight-year-old who falls into a chalk pit, and Stig is the modern-day caveman he discovers living there. Aided by a magically rubbish-strewn set, this enthralling production captures events as their worlds collide.
Barney saves Stig from poisoning by building a chimney (from tin cans) for his home in the dump. Stig explains (in grunts) that a discarded watering can makes a wonderful musical instrument. Sub-plots and morals abound. Is the whole thing a parable about recycling? Is Stig an imaginary friend? Barney's battle of wills to convince his Stigosceptic sister Lou that the caveman exists is a powerful metaphor for the way childhood imagination and hope can be crushed by the realities of the adult world.
Barney and Lou are played by adults but Daniel Crowder and the pixie-like Leah Fletcher unlock a world of childlike fantasies and mannerisms as their adventures unfold. Even more memorable, Stig (played by Andy Robb, infamous around Coronation Street for bumping off Brian Tilsley) is utterly convincing, from his loincloth made of old ties to the way he shrieks "Jam jar!" when anything meets with his approval. The interval was awash with tiny children yelling "Jam jar!"
If part one is a teensy bit slow-paced, the second half is gripping. I remembered the heartbreak I felt as a child when it looks as though Stig will have to return to his people. "Don't go, Stig!" I cried inside, as we were left to work out whether he was real or not - and decided that the message was that he was as real as we wanted him to be.
This is a fabulous romp, but the true test of critical opinion rests with a huddle of small boys clustered round the exits. Their verdict? "Weren't it great?" Stig of the Dump
West Yorkshire Playhouse, Leeds
****
Although Stig of the Dump is a children's adventure, it will appeal to anybody who was captivated early in life by Clive King's classic 1963 novel, or anyone who is still a child at heart. In fact, you'd have to have been born a fully-formed, cold-hearted 75-year-old not to find innocent pleasure in this Natasha Betteridge-directed fantasy-cum-romp.
The story - if, unlike most Britons between the ages of seven and 47, you managed to miss the book - revolves around Barney and Stig. Barney is the day-dreaming, eight-year-old who falls into a chalk pit, and Stig is the modern-day caveman he discovers living there. Aided by a magically rubbish-strewn set, this enthralling production captures events as their worlds collide.
Barney saves Stig from poisoning by building a chimney (from tin cans) for his home in the dump. Stig explains (in grunts) that a discarded watering can makes a wonderful musical instrument. Sub-plots and morals abound. Is the whole thing a parable about recycling? Is Stig an imaginary friend? Barney's battle of wills to convince his Stigosceptic sister Lou that the caveman exists is a powerful metaphor for the way childhood imagination and hope can be crushed by the realities of the adult world.
Barney and Lou are played by adults but Daniel Crowder and the pixie-like Leah Fletcher unlock a world of childlike fantasies and mannerisms as their adventures unfold. Even more memorable, Stig (played by Andy Robb, infamous around Coronation Street for bumping off Brian Tilsley) is utterly convincing, from his loincloth made of old ties to the way he shrieks "Jam jar!" when anything meets with his approval. The interval was awash with tiny children yelling "Jam jar!"
If part one is a teensy bit slow-paced, the second half is gripping. I remembered the heartbreak I felt as a child when it looks as though Stig will have to return to his people. "Don't go, Stig!" I cried inside, as we were left to work out whether he was real or not - and decided that the message was that he was as real as we wanted him to be.
This is a fabulous romp, but the true test of critical opinion rests with a huddle of small boys clustered round the exits. Their verdict? "Weren't it great?"
Until February 2
Box office: 0113-213 7700
