Theatre in Review: 946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips (St. Ann's Warehouse)

	Katy Owen, Nandi Bhebhe. Photo: Teddy Wolff

For this exercise in what might be called children's theatre for all, Emma Rice and her crew at the theatre company Kneehigh have teamed up with the author Michael Morpurgo, who also wrote the novel War Horse, the source material for the blockbuster play of the same name. The new piece, adapted from another of Morpurgo's books, has, superficially, a not-dissimilar premise: Both are tales of wartime, centering on a young person and a beloved animal, and both skillfully employ a battery of theatrical devices, including puppets. There the resemblance ends, however. War Horse is an epic and emotionally wrenching adventure, a dark mural of death and devastation. 946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips, a semi-musical story of World War II, sees the sunny side of even the most tragic events. Its primary urge is to give the audience a good time, plus a little inspiration. It certainly doesn't want to upset or disturb.

One glance at Lez Brotherston's set reveals that we're in a world of primary colors, a child's picture book writ large: The stage is dominated by an enormous barrel-vault structure, made of wooden planks, on which has been painted a blue sky with fluffy clouds; the deck is painted a grassy green. A second level contains a band where Blues Man, our combination narrator, emcee, and vocalist, presides, supported by a gifted band of musicians; attached to this level are an airplane propeller and headlights. Before the play begins, we are given swingy, soulful renditions of travel-themed songs: "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" and "Born to Run." The choice of such anachronistic numbers -- which, admittedly, are delightfully rendered -- is the first clue that Rice and company are not interested in historic verisimilitude or striking a consistent tone; their goal is entertainment, by any means possible.

On stage springs the eleven-year-old Lily Tregenza, who lives on a farm in Devon with her mother, grandfather, and Tips, her beloved, if wayward, cat. Missing is Lily's father, gone off to the war, whom she hasn't forgiven for drowning a sack of Tips' kittens -- not the last cruel reality that will be soft-pedaled before the evening is over. Lily is something of a prepubescent terror, forever expressing herself in outpourings of emotion, especially rage -- a strategy that, I suspect, is meant to be humorously endearing, but one which left me wondering if corporal punishment is such a bad idea after all. As portrayed by the adult actress Katy Owen -- who is thoroughly believable as a girl less than half her age -- Lily is supposed to be a plucky little thing, but, watching her skip around the stage, spreading exasperation and taunting her peers, she's pretty grating -- a weaponized version of Roald Dahl's Matilda, the kind of child only a mother could love.

Lily's school is presided over by Madame Bounine, whose husband is also away at war, and soon the population of the classroom is doubled with children evacuated from Blitz-struck London; the most prominent new arrival is Barry, a sensitive young soul whose father was killed in battle and whose mother drives a London bus. (Despite Lily's ruthless teasing, the boy ends up as her love interest.) They are soon followed by a deployment of Yank soldiers, including the black Americans Adolphus (also known as Adi) and Harry, who befriend Lily and her family. In the biggest upheaval of all, Lily, her family, and friends are made to evacuate so the area can be used to prep for the invasion of Normandy. As Lily and her family depart, Tips goes missing. At the girl's urging, Adolphus and Harry promise to find and return the cat -- a vow that will get them into no end of trouble.

Rice, who, in addition to adapting the script with Morpurgo, also directs, creating an atmosphere of wide-eyed fun, which neatly establishes Lily's cockeyed youngster's view of the world: A Jeep empties out, seemingly discharging an entire squadron of GIs ready to take part in Rice and Etta Murfitt's ebullient, high-stepping choreography; in a fantasy sequence illustrating Lily's alternative vision of war, Winston Churchill bravely goes mano a mano with Adolph Hitler in a game of rock-paper-scissors, followed by a fierce jump rope contest. (The sight of Der Führer skipping rope and chanting "I like coffee, I like tea/I love the boys, and the boys love me" is worthy of Monty Python's Flying Circus.) A befuddled member of the aristocracy introduces himself as "Lord Something-or-Other" before delivering the bad news about the evacuation. Adolphus is not the only charming animal puppet on stage: Lyndie Wright and Sarah Wright have created a barnyard's worth of dogs, mice, and chickens -- one of whom is picked up and throttled by Lily's mother, who turns to us and shrugs, reminding us that dinner must be served.

When the action turns more somber in Act II, Rice does not lack for invention. A military exercise, which goes wildly wrong when it accidentally runs into the Nazis, is staged in a series of steel washtubs filled with toy boats and soldiers, many of which are set on fire. A scene in which Lily accidentally wanders onto the field of battle is especially arresting, thanks to Malcom Rippeth's rapid-fire lighting chases and Simon Baker's gunfire and explosion effects. But what could be a thoroughly nightmarish sequence has less impact than it might, since Lily emerges from it exactly as she was before. The girl gets into harm's way while searching for Tips, but, up to this point, the play hasn't delivered any sense of a special relationship between Lily and her cat. Given that the show is named after him, Tips often seems peripheral to the plot, disappearing as he does for long stretches.

There's also something damaging about Rice's constant need to deliver a good time. There are silly running gags; for example, Mme. Bounine makes every entrance with the back of her dress hiked up, exposing her bloomers; it's not funny the first time and it doesn't improve with repetition. Having the young characters played by adults works well enough -- there's a pretty funny gag at the expense of the young Margaret Thatcher -- but the use of drag is sometimes distracting: The actor Craig Johnson certainly nails the character of Barry's garrulous, bus-driving mother, but his broadly comic performance arguably signals that we're not supposed to take the character seriously, nor should we care too much about Barry's sadness and feelings of displacement.

The play becomes genuinely moving near the end, when the war's conclusion brings about a series of reunions and separations, and as the framing device, focusing on Lily as an elderly widow, completes the narrative circle -- at long last explaining the presence of Blues Man, a black jazz hipster, in a story about rural England. But for a long stretch of its running time, 946: The Story of Adolphus Tips skates very lightly over its most emotionally potent material, entertaining the audience in a way that doesn't always feel fully honest.

The original songs -- music by Stu Barker, lyrics by Morpurgo and Rice -- are a fairly bland, forgettable lot, but the band makes them seem better than they are, and when Blues Man and company tear into something borrowed, like "It Don't Mean a Thing" or "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," the result is heavenly. The standouts in a nimble cast, all playing multiple roles, include Ncuti Gatwa as easy, affable Adi; Kyla Goodey as Lily's tough, but loving, Mum; Adam Sopp as both Barry and Lily's grandson, Boowie; and Akopre Uzoh, who sings stirringly and acts with notable delicacy as Blues Man. Brotherston's costumes -- including the shiniest suit you've ever seen for Blues Man -- are sensible period creations, and, in addition to his barrage of effects, Baker provides perfectly transparent reinforcement, an ideal balance of voices and musical instruments.

946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips certainly knows how to make its audience happy, and it's important to note that Rice's instincts as an entertainer seem to spring from a generous heart rather than a fear of flop sweat. Still, there's a darker, more moving story inside, still waiting to get out. You can bring the entire family to this production -- and, oddly, that may be its weakest point. -- David Barbour