WAR HORSE at THE NATIONAL THEATRE

Beg, borrow or steal a ticket for this stage production of Michael Morpurgo’s novel War Horse. Please! (No, on second thoughts, don’t do the last option…) But do whatever you can to get to see this?

On the face of it… a children’s novel, on stage with puppet horses? Come ON!

Well, I took us up to see it last night. Us being bad-tempered husband, 63, ‘What on earth are we going up to see this for?’ and equally bad-tempered teenage son, 17. ‘Mum. I am tired, OK?’

I was listening to the radio in the car a few months back, and the lady who does the traffic news came into the studio. And in the chat’n’natter before she did her thing, she talked about War Horse, which she had seen the night before. She was breathless with excitement. ‘You just have to see it,’ she said to whoever was in the studio. ‘You just have to. I can’t describe it…’ This wasn’t an advert… but it was the best advert in the world.

War Horse tells the story of Joey, a colt from Devon, and Albert the 16 year old boy who loves him. It is WWI seen through the eyes of the horse, with fantastic coups de theatre that had us gasping. (We were right in the front row… and that was spectacular!)

It pulls no punches. It is raw, highly emotional, shocking and very very clever.

No longer bad-tempered husband. ‘That was spectacularly good.’
No longer bad-tempered son. ‘Thanks. Great stuff. Fantastic.’


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