The much acclaimed puppetry of Ronnie Burkett proves yet again that theatre magic has little to do with size or razzmatazz and everything to do with audience engagement. From the moment he steps out to front the appropriately-scaled puppet stage, it is clear that this will be an evening of shared imaginations, where we will help shape what happens and where together we’ll have fun. 

The semi-improvised show introduces a series of marvellous characters who happen to be marionettes. There are forty standing with their backs to us in the wings and periodically we’ll be invited to choose which personality will take the stage. Ronnie Burkett is the sole manipulator, voicing all with masterly control. The real magic is that he is invisible, though clearly before our eyes. Even when he leaps down from the bridge to attend to the set, we are far too engrossed in what has just happened or will happen next to see him. 

First up is the glamorous burlesque artiste, Miss Dolly, spotlit, blonde and curvy. Like all the characters we meet, she has a problem, vigorously revealed in her musical number about getting back to the farm, shedding layers of glitz for gingham and less. At this point I am still marvelling at the dexterity controlling her angst and the coordination of voice and movement, but by the end of her number, I have all but forgotten the agency directing it all. 

Then, in a daring piece of programming, we are given one of the main delights of the evening: the daisy-headed, fairy-costumed child, Schnitzel. This is a timid and initially bullied creature who summons the courage to climb the curtains to ask the creator for wings. Of course we help. By now we are enthralled, sympathetic as well as surprised by the poignancy of tenderness. We are in the hands of a master. 

More riches are in store. Highlights for me (though there are no lowlights) are: ex Major-General Leslie Fugwar, who gives us teddibly English songs in drag (hilarious accompaniment managed by an audience member); ageing superstar Esmé with her extraordinary ability to slither; Mrs Edna Rural, self confessed ‘silly old biddy’; and glorious Rosemary Foccacia, raddled Italian show biz personality whose scene is accompanied by another little miracle, a full band.

Along with the fun, there are haunting questions about what is real, as the child/fairy engages us about ‘crossing the line’ between the illusion and something we call real. We are aware that we too are on a string, perhaps, and puzzlingly we are also in control. More than an evening’s delight, the show is a captivating reminder of creative play and the deeper places it can lead us.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer