'The Bear' review or 'Who's been sitting in MY chair?'

'The Bear', Raymond Briggs/Pins and Needles 
Polka Theatre, 27th October 2015
Written for Guardian Stage 

At one point during The Bear, my goddaughter Blue turns to me and coos: “This is magic!” She’s absolutely right. This production, by Pins and Needles, is everything children’s theatre should be: sensitive, witty, gorgeously crafted and, despite the presence of an enormous polar bear, impressively light on its feet.

The Bear is adapted from the picture book by Raymond Briggs, the same writer behind that tear-jerker The Snowman. The two stories have a lot in common: a lovable central kid, a mysterious and ephemeral friend and a delicate emotional thread running right through. Here, the kid in question is young Tilly (Naomi Stafford), who is delighted when a polar bear clambers through her bedroom window. But when the bear begins to make trouble, defecating all over the garden and crashing through the kitchen, Tilly begins to wonder whether her house is really the best home for her new fluffy friend.

Directors Emma Earle and Hal Chambers’s sumptuous production is wonderfully whimsical, yet relatable. All of the magical touches are grounded in an everyday reality that the kids can understand. When Tilly and the bear play hide and seek, Blue squeals in my ear: “He’s a very good hider!” When the two sing a song together, Blue wriggles along in her seat and, when the bear has a bath, she is delighted as real bubbles float over her head.

Every moment is lavished with care, and even the scene changes – played out on Zoe Squire’s detailed but agile set – feel like a game designed with children in mind. Tilly’s bedroom is transformed into a kitchen or garden with just a few twizzles of the set, all performed with twinkling energy by Tilly’s kooky parents (Suzanne Nixon and Dan Gingell).

The greatest praise must be reserved for the polar bear, created by Samuel Wyer. Watch out War Horse: this is one of the most gorgeous puppets I’ve ever seen. The frame is made of huge rings, with soft, white fur laid over them. The paws are controlled by “mum” and the body by “dad”, and yet the giant, gentle creature seems to move as one. It’s such a convincing creation that there are a few tears of fear when the bear first lumbers on stage, but they’re soon replaced with rapt silence.

There is something profoundly moving about watching Stafford’s tiny frame snuggle up beside the bear’s sprawling body. It speaks of the trust that children instinctively place in others and hints at the limitless depths of a child’s imagination. Think big, whispers Briggs, and you never know what might happen.