War Horse

The Alexandra Theatre

Birmingham

By Neil Cox

A completely different way to how I would normally spend a Sunday morning! I was galloping with excitement to see War Horse on Sunday afternoon at The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham ready for a theatrical ride like no other!

Being invited to meet Joey from War Horse on stage before the afternoon performance was something truly special; something I will never forget. It wasn’t just an opportunity; it felt like a privilege knowing the extraordinary craftsmanship and emotional power behind this puppet, and then being granted the chance to see him up close, in the quiet stillness of the morning before the spectacle, felt almost sacred.

There was a childlike sense of wonder in me as I stepped onto the stage, usually reserved for actors and artists. But there I was, allowed into that world even for just a moment. Meeting Joeyface-to-face and seeing the mechanics…yes, but also feeling the life that the puppeteers breathe into him was awe-inspiring. It blurred the line between puppet and living creature. Even knowing how it works, I couldn’t help but connect emotionally, as though he were real.

It made the story I was about to watch that afternoon feel even more intimate and personal. I wasn’t just seeing a show, I’d met its heart.

It’s truly something extraordinary; the puppeteers of War Horseare nothing short of phenomenal. The way they breathe life into Joey and the other horses goes beyond technical skill; it becomes a kind of poetry in motion. Every flick of the ears, shift of weight, and subtle breath makes you forget you’re looking at a puppet and believe you’re watching a living, feeling creature.

The way the team moves in perfect unison…heart, head, hind is a masterclass in physical theatre and ensemble work. It’s not just manipulation; it’s deep emotional connection. You can feel Joey’s fear, joy, loyalty, and pain all through the artistry of people we’re barely meant to notice.

There are very few productions in the theatre world that possess the rare ability to leave an entire audience breathless, so absorbed, so emotionally arrested, that the line between performance and reality disappears. War Horse, currently playing at The Alexandra Theatre in Birmingham, is one of those rare creatures. Adapted from Michael Morpurgo’s 1982 novel and first brought to the stage by the National Theatre in 2007, it has become a global phenomenon and not for spectacle alone, but for the emotional truth it embodies.

As I took my seat in the richly ornate auditorium of The Alex, I was met with a quiet sense of anticipation. The theatre was full, a diverse crowd; young and old, theatre lovers, military veterans, families. Some had seen the show before and were back again; others, like myself, were first-timers. What unfolded over the next 2 hours and 40 minutes was not just a story about war or a boy or a horse but a remarkable meditation on loyalty, trauma, and the fierce resilience of love.

The story begins in Devon, in the early years of the 20th century. A foal (Head - Eloise Beaumont-Wood, Heart - Clara Lioe, Hind - Jordan Paris) is brought home by Ted Narracott, a struggling farmer with more pride than money. That foal, Joey is bought at auction in a moment of foolish bravado, and it’s left to his son, Albert, to raise and train him. Tom Sturgess, playing Albert in this production, delivers a performance of extraordinary clarity and sincerity. His love for Joey is not sentimental; it’s rooted in need, in recognition, in mutual respect. It’s that emotional foundation that the entire play builds upon.

The staging here is minimalist, relying not on realism but on suggestion. A scrap of fence becomes a stable; a torn sketchbook backdrop transforms with charcoal lines into hills, villages, and battlefields. The imaginative landscape is built not with literalism, but with emotional architecture something this production excels in.

The Devon scenes are laced with rustic charm and quiet humour. We meet Rose (Albert’s long-suffering mother, played by Jo Castleton with a beautiful mixture of maternal sternness and silent worry), and Arthur (Albert’s rigid, emotionally blocked father, played with compelling restraint by Gareth Radcliffe). There are comic turns, a stubborn goose puppet frequently stole scenes and laughter from the audience but even in these lighter moments, the threat of change lingers…Because war is coming.

If there’s one thing War Horse is famous for, it’s the horse. Or rather, the horses. Joey (Head - Tom Quinn, Heart - Lewis McBean, Hind - Michael Larcombe) and Topthorn (Head - Tea Poldervaart, Heart - Robin Hayward, Hind - Gun Suen), the show’s two main equine characters, are full-sized puppets designed by the brilliant Handspring Puppet Company. Constructed from seventy kilograms of cane, mesh, and steel, and animated by teams of three puppeteers, these horses breathe, twitch, gallop, and emote in ways that defy explanation.

It takes less than a minute to forget that Joey is not real. His snorts, his wary eyes, the flicking of his ears all are so precise and expressive that the audience gasps with the same concern and affection they would for a living animal. The puppeteers are visible, present, never disguised and do not detract. On the contrary, their presence seems essential, ritualistic, as if we are being invited to participate in an act of collective imagination. The skill of these puppeteers is commendable; it’s not about sheer brute force carrying the framework but the control, subtle movements, and gracing the stage with a commanding, decisive and delicate presence.

The first act climaxes with Joey’s forced sale to the army. He is dragged away from Albert, who is still too young to enlist. The pain of separation is visceral. Joey’s departure from the farm, his confused resistance, the boy’s panicked cries, the helplessness of both is staged with such raw honesty that the audience barely breathes. It is not melodrama it’s heartbreak.

The second act plunges us into the brutality of the First World War. We follow Joey as he is conscripted into cavalry charges, as the old world of horses is shredded by the new reality of tanks, machine guns, and gas. Here, the play shifts in tone as it becomes darker, heavier, more philosophical. The staging transforms too. Trenches appear as jagged rips in the earth. Explosions are rendered through stark lighting, shuddering sound, and ghostly projections. The backdrop becomes an ever-changing battlefield sketchbook, where barbed wire grows like weeds.

The horror of war is not glorified. It is relentless. Horses and men alike are shredded by bullets and blown apart by mines. The animal deaths are handled with grace but also unflinching honesty. When Topthorn collapses from exhaustion, there were audible sobs throughout the theatre.

We are also introduced to Friedrich Müller (Alexander Ballinger), a German officer played with enormous subtlety. Friedrich finds Joey and Topthorn on the battlefield and cares for them, tending to their wounds and shielding them from the madness around them. In these scenes, the play steps outside its Anglo-centric narrative and shows that compassion, like cruelty, crosses all borders. Parallel to Joey’s suffering is Albert’s journey. Driven by his love and longing, he enlists underage and is sent to France. His transformation from innocent farm boy to shattered soldier is devastatingly convincing. When Albert is gassed and temporarily blinded, calling out for Joey in a trench filled with corpses and strangers, the entire auditorium held its breath.

What makes War Horse so powerful is not just the central relationship between boy and horse, it’s the way that relationship acts as a mirror for everything else. War, for all its destruction, cannot erase the primal need for connection. Whether it’s Friedrich and his surrogate family of horses, or Albert and the friends he loses in the mud, or even the silent respect between British and German soldiers who watch Joey’s valiant effort to survive. This play reminds us that tenderness endures even in the darkest places. Loyalty is the thread that binds the entire story. Joey remains loyal to the humans who love him. Albert’s loyalty gives him strength through unimaginable horror. And the audience’s loyalty to hope, to imagination is what allows the story to be told at all. There are also deeper meditations woven through the production; the inhumanity of mechanised warfare, the foolish pride of men who send children into battle, the strange poetry of survival in a world bent on destruction.

Live music is used sparingly but to great effect. A accordion (played in this production by Sally Swanson) acts as a kind of musical chorus, threading folk songs through the action with haunting resonance. The music, composed by Adrian Sutton and with songs by John Tams, blends seamlessly into the world. It doesn’t decorate, it deepens.

The genius of this production lies in its restraint. The set is simple, a platform, some wooden frames, torn paper skies. But everything is crafted with purpose. Rae Smith’s design never clutters. Rob Casey’s lighting finds beauty in shadow and the projection work often monochrome sketches that morph and bleed into scenes is breathtaking.

This production is directed by Tom Morris with revival director Katie Henry ensures the production remains faithful to its roots while infusing it with renewed emotional vitality. The movement is choreographed to within an inch of perfection but it never feels artificial. Even chaos is carefully composed.

The goose puppet, a smaller comic invention that chases and honks its way through early scenes, is a masterclass in levity and timing. It’s proof that the show doesn’t only trade in tragedy, it also celebrates the joy of simple things.

On the afternoon I attended, the audience was utterly gripped. There were audible gasps at moments of tension, deep sobs during Joey’s suffering, and moments of spontaneous applause during brief reprieves. At the curtain call, when the puppeteers stepped forward beside their horses, they received a standing ovation as loud and genuine as any I’ve ever heard.

What moved me most was seeing younger audience members, children and teens utterly engrossed. In an age of smartphones and short attention spans, to see a generation captivated by a story told with puppets and poetry is no small feat. It speaks to the universality of the tale and the excellence of its telling.

It’s difficult to do justice to War Horse with mere words. It is not just a play, not merely a performance it is a living, breathing experience that bypasses cynicism and pierces directly into the heart.

In many ways, it’s astonishing that such emotional depth can be found in a production where the main characters do not speak, where the hero is made of mesh and metal but perhaps that’s the secret. In shedding the trappings of realism, War Horse finds something more honest, more intimate. It allows us to see beyond language, beyond politics, beyond history and into the soul.

If you’ve never seen it before, now is the time. And if you have, see it again. Because some stories deserve to be heard more than once and War Horse is one of them.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

A production of rare emotional intelligence, breathtaking craft, poetic, and unforgettable!!

I would like to take the opportunity to pass on my sincere thanks to the cast, production team and The Alexandra Theatre for the heartfelt and unforgettable chance to meet Joey on stage, it was an absolute pleasure to meet you and it meant more than words can say. I wish you all every success with the rest of the tour.

War Horse is currently at The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham until Saturday 19th July 2025. For further details and information visit www.atgtickets.com