INTO THE WOODS, Bridge Theatre

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In 2014, I discovered Into the Woods at the Théâtre du Châtelet, in a production directed by Lee Blakeley. That evening, my obsession with Stephen Sondheim began. Since then, I’ve listened to everything, read everything, and seen everything I could. So last week, we dashed off to London to see Into the Woods on the stage of the Bridge Theatre.

Written in 1986 and born from a new collaboration between Stephen Sondheim (music and lyrics) and James Lapine (book), it’s probably one of Sondheim’s most famous works. Likely inspired in large part by the writings of Carl Jung and Bruno Bettelheim, the authors delve into fairy tales, dig beneath the surface, and sculpt their characters. Of the princesses and ogresses, only the shell remains. Showered with awards, Into the Woods is a brilliant and contemporary reinterpretation of the figures of our childhood.

That’s why we were particularly excited to meet again these characters, characters we’ve listened to so often. You may have seen the 2014 film directed by Rob Marshall. We’d rather recommend the original Broadway cast recording (1987) led by Bernadette Peters. During the show Sondheim’s Old Friends at the Gielgud Theatre, created just after Sondheim’s death, she deeply moved us with her rendition of Children Will Listen.

As it happens, it’s a good thing we love Into the Woods, because we’re sitting in the front row, practically nose to nose with the actors. The show begins on the proscenium before a black backdrop; and once the balance of each fairy tale has been disrupted, the curtain rises. We heard a collective « Wow. » We probably let it out ourselves too. Tom Scutt’s sets (he also designed the costumes, by the way) and Aideen Malone’s lighting bring a majestic forest to life, and create an impressive sense of density, depth, and almost vertigo. Little by little, it becomes both the stage and the main character of the plot. Matrix, refuge, prison, grave, the forest is the space where fairy tales converge and then collide. 

Guided by a narrator, a baker and his wife seek to break the spell cast by a Witch (a wonderfully camp witch, played by Kate Fleetwood) and encounter, in turn, Little Red Riding Hood, her Wolf and her Grandmother, Cinderella, her family, Rapunzel, their princes, Jack, with his cow under his arm, his bean in his pocket, and his mother chasing after him… The book could resemble yet another twisted retelling of fairy tales. But the genius of Lapine and Sondheim obviously lies in the complete reinvention of the work.. Deceptively naive, yet genuinely profound, Into the Woods explores the torments of archetypes, portraying them as sensitive and complex human beings, subject to a fairytale destiny that is, of course, far too powerful. 

During the second act, the forest gradually darkens with each passing twilight. One can only admire the visual artistry, Jordan Fein’s playful staging, right down to the design of the animated animals. We had already witnessed his talent during the revival of Fiddler on the Roof at Regent Park’s Open Air Theatre in 2024, where his collaboration with Tom Scutt created wonders. A playful and audacious staging, then. In a single set, the characters venture deeper into a forest that stretches up into the flies and wings, playing with every element, discovering a new hiding place behind a tree trunk, a tower behind a sapling, a giant above the audience. 

The other playful element of the musical is, of course, the writing of James Lapine and Stephen Sondheim. Besides the Witch, much of the humor stems from two admirably ridiculous characters: the two princes (Oliver Savile and Jacob Fowler), embodiments of a failing and emasculated patriarchy, who sing their very funny Agony. You laugh a lot in Into the Woods—often a dark, liberating laughter. The events unfolding before us cover a vast field of misfortunes with two things in common: loss and abandonment. As in every fairy tale, the characters will overstep their bounds, transgress, and survive. As in our own lives, surviving the wolf, the ogress, the prince. Their journeys, from tragedy to tragedy, speak to us of emancipation and legacy. And how, in the cruel adversity of fairy tales or life, we transcend ourselves and choose our family. 

Despite its deceptive fairytale appearance, Into the Woods doesn’t really deliver a moral lesson. Sondheim often spoke of his childhood, if not unhappy, at least not a happy one, with two absent parents. No doubt there’s a bit of himself in Rapunzel’s sadness and Jack’s sensitivity (and it’s a pleasure to see Jo Foster back on stage after having loved them in Why Am I So Single? last year). We won’t mention each and every performer, but the cast is really brilliant, and serves Sondheim’s score with a truly infectious joy. Especially from the front row. The orchestra, conducted by Mark Aspinall, is also perfect, delivering a vibrant interpretation of complex, sometimes dissonant, yet always harmonious music.

We absolutely loved this sophisticated, dark and luminous, mischievous and poignant production. We loved seeing Sondheim on stage again, like a companion we’ve followed, from a bit afar, for twelve years. But who hasn’t changed, still full of humanity. And sarcasm. But above all, humanity. It’s delivered to us in a suspended moment, when Chumisa Dornford-May, Hughie O’Donnell, Gracie McGonigal, and Jo Foster (Cinderella, the Baker, Little Red Riding Hood, and Jack) sing the most moving piece of the show: No One Is Alone. Eyes were shining, and the audience was sniffling in unison. We laughed, we cried. We left absolutely blown away by the show and by the dedication of so many talented people to Sondheim’s masterpiece. Then we crossed Tower Bridge in the drizzle and the biting wind, a stark reminder that we had left the vibrant forest of fairy tales.

Into The Woods at the Bridge Theatre