I read C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe for the first time earlier this year. I hadn’t as a child and an attempt in my late teens, when I was too angsty for such silliness or whatever, didn’t last beyond a few pages. Funny how our sensibilities shift as we grow because middle-aged Istvan just adored it!
Bad Hats Theatre, who have charmed the pants off me several times, have crafted a theatrical adaptation so faithful to the story’s spirit, so inventive, buoyant and contemporary, it’s like discovering it anew! Presented in collaboration with Soulpepper and Crow’s Theatre, Narnia is an emotionally authentic and visually dynamic holiday treat for all ages!
Four siblings (this version of the story posits them as “not real brothers and sisters” for its message of chosen family)—inquisitive, adventurous Lucy (Belinda Corpuz); proud, resentful Edmund (Landon Doak); courageous, responsible Susan (Sierra Haynes); attentive, knowledgable Peter (Matthew Joseph)—are sent to live in a country mansion with a whimsical old Professor (Astrid Van Wieren) for protection at wartime.
During a game of hide and seek, Lucy is the first to stumble upon the fantastical land of Narnia, with its magic and talking animals, through a portal at the back of a wardrobe. All four of them are eventually caught up in a battle with an evil Witch (Amaka Umeh)—as devotees of the saviour figure and Christ-proxy lion, Aslan (also Van Wieren)—to end her reign of frozen cruelty and restore warmth and love to Narnia.
The novel, which isn’t very long, is quickly-paced and intimate, giving the epic stakes of the narrative a quaint immediacy! Here too we breeze through the story while spending enough quality time with the characters to feel properly invested. The most compelling of which, to me, is Edmond, who has a poignant redemptive arc. He starts out as a bit of a resentful jerk who betrays his clan by siding with the Witch when she plays into his vanity. Doak (who is also the clever, insightful composer and lyricist of this musical) makes him a sort of alienated and scornful little contrarian masking an inner sad boy.
He spends a lot of time with Umeh’s stylish Witch, whose entitled and smarmy persona plays rather close to pantomime villain, but lands just shy of actively asking us to boo her. She offers such a meaningful contrast to Van Wieren, as both the Professor and Aslan, who is such an earnest, galvanizing presence with an understated dignity.
Another stand-out is Matt Pilipiak who plays the remorseful faun Mr. Tumnus, though I found him most charming as half of the Mr. Beaver duo (with Jonathan Tan). They paint an endearing portrait of gay marriage, complete with all its small intimacies and irritations. It’s amusing and lovely, planting in the minds of children the ordinariness of such a union.
James Daly as the Witch’s henchman, Trumpkin, provides some quippy comedy. The running gag about his increasingly ridiculous and nonsensical proverbs is hilarious. When asked his name while puppeteering the brave little mouse knight, Reepicheep, his bashful Kevin persona is also a cute bit never milked for more than its worth.
When I read the novel, I was struck by the genuinely upsetting “Passion Play” segment which sees Aslan shorn, mutilated and killed as a conspicuously Christian sacrificial allegory for Edmond’s (our flawed human) redemption. It’s a deeply disturbing humiliation, torment and loss. This rendering is tamer, by far, and abstracted somewhat into less viscerally appalling form—the professor’s dusty old carpet that represents Aslan’s regal cape becomes an empty and discarded reminder of his absence, which Corpuz’s Lucy clutches sorrowfully in one of her most affecting moments.
In her adaptation and direction, Fiona Sauder deftly maintains dramatic weight while also revelling in spectacle and a meta-theatrical sense of two realities existing in partnership—the mundane artifice of the home with its wood panelled walls, creaky stairs and stuffy wardrobe of coats and the fanciful realm of Narnia. When the cast venture through that wardrobe, they grab various coats to swirl about in a playful explosion of transporting magic.
Shannon Lea Doyle’s set has mischievous versatility. Those stairs break apart and swivel about as the cast scramble up and down. The stained glass window that tops the central panel has a distinctly ecclesiastical vibe. It’s subtle, but when Logan Raju Cracknell’s light sets it aglow, the religious ethos of the source material shines through.
Another intriguing little nod towards the spiritual echos between Narnia and the world this side of the wardrobe is the framed visage of Umeh in the Professor’s study. When asked, she simply explains it was a loved one who died, tying the Professor and this woman (a good friend or, perhaps, a lover) to the “old magic” that binds their counterparts, the Witch and Aslan—a governing system of truths and values.
From the joyful, opening jam session with its East Coast vibes and delicious hot chocolate inviting us into the space, through the bouncy and kinetic antics, to the moving finale that celebrates all the stages of a life, Narnia is radiant.

