Based on the Film by Hayao Miyazaki

Adapted and Directed by John Caird

Co-Adapted by Maoko Imai

Tickets: £28.00

The guise of gods and myths take unique forms in limitless manners over countless cultures. But no matter what – we share stories of selflessness, fear, and the intricacies of growing up.

And where we in the UK typically parcel fairytale and legend into Pantomime, gushy musicals, or the occasional dark twist on a Grimm classic, the artistry of Japan’s Kabuki theatre has retained an elegance and reverence for timeless storytelling that evolved and weaves theatricality into their cinema. But what about the reverse? 

Following RSC’s rousing success in capturing the effusive charm of Studio Ghibli’s other favoured film, My Neighbour Totoro, John Caird and Maoko Imai present this European production of the 2022 stage show of Ghibli’s magnum opus film, the Academy Award-Winning Spirited Away, at the London Coliseum through to August, performed in Japanese (with English surtitles), and features a majority of the magnificent original cast.

For those unfamiliar with the Studio Ghibli film, all the various nodules of ingenuity and bursts of innovative life are present: potentially tricky to communicate, but in this adaptation, almost tranquil and accomplished with deft. A young girl, Chihiro (Kanna Hashimoto), moves across the country, sombre to the idea of leaving friends behind. Stopping briefly, lost, and wandering through a tunnel and into an enormous town laden with food, smells, and lights, but seemingly no people, Chihiro’s parents succumb to gluttony (and given the steaming, glistening foods on stage, one can hardly blame them). Whereupon her parents transform into pigs, thanks to Sachiko Nakahara’s stand-out costume and Toby Olié enchanted puppetry.

Desperate to survive in this spirit world and reclaim her parents’ humanity, Chihiro discovers that even here, the necessity for employment dictates all. In this world, the only position she can get is within the Bath House for the gods, run by the conniving witch Yubaba. Deserving their summoning of tonight’s standing ovation, from cackle to conjuring, Romi Park’s witchy Yubaba secures the mysticism and grandeur of what many expected this show to be with a commanding presence, tiptoeing the line of loveable antagonism. They’re every bit the counter-point to Hashimoto’s beautifully emotional Chihiro: a role that connects deeply. When Chihiro hurts, we wince. When she succeeds, we clench victoriously.

Elaborated Kabuki puppetry and design invoke a realm of soaring River Gods, jittering Soot Sprites, and the enormity of the witch Yubaba’s angrier, more volatile form. Mystery and enchantment rest behind every corner and are revealed on Jon Bausor’s stage. Spirited Away layers itself constantly as the Bath House roof lofts itself into the rafters, spins, extends and throws open the sliding doors to emerge with a tantalising surprise. What Caird and the team do every thirty minutes is often more than most shows achieve over their entire run. 

Where Bausor’s set design largely conceals the wirework or sleight-of-hand, through more often simple angles and understanding of the performance space allows for a slick delivery and tremendous visual impact. Kinetic, the ensemble catapult the audience through the various scenes, locales, characters, and occasional time changes with visual triumph as Fu Hinami’s Lin, another of the Bath House workers, and Kenya Osumi do well to provide levity and physical comedy. 

And though the ‘Kabuki Theater’ terminology is thrown as political slander – everything in Spirited Away has a form and intention. Its exaggerations of emotion and dynamically over-wrought performances all swirl into enhancing additional elements: Kotaro Daigo’s stoic and refined Haku is fluid and aethereal, not in word choice, but in the gorgeous movements of Shigehiro Ide’s choreography – lending itself to large ensemble pieces incorporating fan work and enormous percussive elements to deliver the scale of performance in contrast to the show’s smaller intimate moments like Chichiro and No-Face’s solitary train ride, complimented with Jiro Katsushiba’s metamorphic lighting. Using this movement as the principal method of communicating with the audience, dancer Hikaru Yamano poises the ominous No-Face (Kaonashi, a ravenous spirit) with an uncanniness which steps them just outside the realms of the familiar – a creature recognisable but shifting in ways we could never. 

But it is a lot for audiences to take in. Caird’s adaptation remains significantly unaltered. Why mess with perfection: some could argue. The film is held in that regard. But it’s one indulgent meal too many. Small instances adapt to the stage in weaker ways, some of the animated movements look out-of-place while rushed character introductions certainly stand out more, even with the whimsy and sheer dedication of an exceptional cast. 

There’s a place for everyone here – even those feeling an emptiness. Something the bookended opening moments and finale remark upon touchingly. A legendary journey, Spirited Away honours the cinematic masterpiece by traversing the root of Japan’s theatrical legacy and influence with spectacular puppetry, dance, and live renditions of the awe-inspiring musical score from Joe Hisaishi: one of (if not the) production’s finest assets. As the Coliseum shifts in light and hue, intricate in each emotional flitter, offering the fullest courses of delicacy and indulgence, Spirited Away is at its most potently tasteful when capturing the poetry and symphonic soul of the story with a limitless revering spectacle. 

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