Showers. Hand driers. Child-eating witches. These are some of the things Martha (almost four) is afraid of, but the dark isn’t one of them. Instead, as she puts it, she is “brave of it”. So I wondered what she would make of this tale of Plop the baby barn owl who is reluctant to accept his destiny as a night bird.
Based on the book by Jill Tomlinson and directed by Lee Lyford, the story introduces us to Plop and his parents, who are struggling to keep up with their son’s growing appetite. In the interest of nudging him towards self-sufficiency, Plop’s mum encourages him to tumble down from his branch (he’s not a very good lander) on a series of reconnaissance missions to discover what it is that some people see in the dark.
The Clore theatre has been stripped to a white box, with cushions and camping chairs arranged in a circle around a structure of bare branches. Autumn leaves are strewn across the floor. Lawrence Walker dons a pair of round glasses to transform into the awkward, cuddly Plop while Stephanie Levi-John plays his stern but loving mum and all the other characters. The performers’ deft physicality as they swing, perch and plummet vividly conjures the owls’ treetop lifestyle, and afterwards my sadistic daughter declared Plop falling off his branch to be her favourite bit.
Plop’s first encounter is with a boy who finds the dark exciting and invites the owl to watch his firework display. The projections of pyrotechnics were charming but I suspect the CBeebies generation are rather blase about walls that suddenly become screens. More thrilling for Martha was the boy scout who invites Plop (and the young audience) to join him for songs and potatoes round the camp fire. Martha was not the only child asking excitedly if the fire was real. Later, twinkling stars and a new perspective on the nocturnal cityscape offered by a cat called Orion began to convince Plop that the night might not be so bad after all.
This is a sweet, funny and beautifully performed show, though there were moments when I thought the weight of the narration prevented it from really taking flight. Martha’s attention wandered during the wordier bits, though children at the upper end of the recommended age range (two-six) might have a different experience. She certainly enjoyed the post-show interactions when she got to stroke a remote-controlled hedgehog, say a shy “hello” to Plop and gingerly accept a potato. Then off we went into the autumn evening to hunt for fish fingers.
- The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark is at the Unicorn theatre, London, until 21 November. Box office: 020-7645 0560.
