Review: Under a Cardboard Sea, Old Vic

“Never work with animals or children,” W.C. Fields warned us. Not that the Old Vic is listening.

Their Young Company enables five- to 25-year-olds across the city to take part in weekly sessions where they can access the knowledge and experience of the theatre’s professionals. Through tutorship, mutual support and their own sheer creativity, these sessions can culminate in full-scale performances. Their current production, Under a Cardboard Sea, features a cast of 100 youngsters. Surely such a large and youthful cast should prove a recipe for disaster?

Fortunately, however, the kids at the Vic have given the lie to Fields’ edict. Their production is a truly magical creation and acts as a glorious, joyful and infective celebration of Bristol, theatre, drama, family, friendship, childish idealism – and the power of hope and perseverance. It is rich in detail, neat in direction, engaging, innovative and wholly original.

Much of the content of the play was created by the cast themselves, artfully stitched together by Silva Semerciyan to form a compelling narrative. Its setting is a dream-like, steampunk dystopia where the general populace is enslaved to a cryptic yet venerated ‘Machine’ and a ghoulish council of town elders. Children are recruited by duplicitous, Faginesque rogues (artfully played by Jack Orozco Morrison and Toby Yapp) to work at the theatre, where they are treated cruelly.

Against this backdrop, a girl must take great risks and endure momentous sacrifices to earn the money to save the life of her ailing father, and a romance blossoms and is frustrated between the theatre’s leading actress and a mutinous sailor sheltered by stage hands and pursued by the long arm of the law (Rebekah Jeffrey-Hughes’ Inspector).

Small groups perform a steady succession of intriguing side shows that allow a huge number of actors their time in the limelight. And wonderful devices are used to convey drama and generate ambiance – particularly the robotic movements of silhouetted figures signifying the ever-ticking movements of the Machine, and the thud of taught ropes against stage floor to punctuate the jeopardy undertaken during performance of stunts at the theatre-within-a-theatre.

But it’s the cast that are this production’s greatest asset. The small gaggles of infants impress and enchant with their endearing vignettes; the teenagers shine in their larger and more complex roles; and the many of the oldest generation, including several making their last production with the company, will surely now follow in the footsteps of other graduates such as James D. Kent and The Wardrobe Theatre’s Jesse Jones to become recognisable theatrical voices themselves.

Sadie Grey deserves particular praise for the maturity of her performance as the lead; Matt Landau gives a discreet but powerful performance as the wonderfully twisted, old-fashioned baddie Clockface; Maddie Coward perfects the mannerisms and sanctimonious tone of an affluent, ageing Victorian philanthropist; and Richard Ainsley and Amy Smith delicately pull heart strings as the star-crossed lovers. And Brian Hargreaves’ music – expertly performed in the thick of the action in a similar style to The Vic’s recent Jane Eyre – is a vital ingredient in the entrancing atmosphere.

I suppose you can qualify such high praise by pointing to the funding available to a major theatre like the Old Vic and the well-established team of experienced professionals that were on hand to assist. But this is much, much more than just a school play with a big budget. To provide some indication of what the Young Company have created here, the only comparable work I know is Matilda the Musical, and Under a Cardboard Sea should follow in its footsteps and be shared with audiences beyond its hometown. Whether that will happen or not, though, I would implore anyone to experience it in its intended setting.

Under a Cardboard Sea continues at Bristol Old Vic until Saturday, Aug 6. For more info and to book tickets, visit www.bristololdvic.org.uk/cardboardsea.html