A well-known story in an unusual outdoor setting where the audience is required to literally follow the action around on foot makes for an experience both familiar and unique.

The actual story contains a basic plot thread in which Ratty and Mole plan to have a picnic and are actively determining the best spot to have it.  This creates the justification for the cast to relocate each scene, and the audience with them, to a different picturesque location around the grounds of Lake Pupuke (and in one scene even in it), thus most effectively utilising a stage area of virtually unlimited depth. 

The simplistic premise also provides room to input a number of key subplots from the well known tale, in particular Toad’s dangerous love affair with the motorcar (a brand new Daihatsu no less!), and his enmity with the ill-mannered weasels when they overrun Toad Hall.

The performances are roundly excellent; the essential lead role played by Adam Burrell with all due self-centred impudence, and irascible energy to spare.  Having read the book and seen a number of screen renditions, it occurs to me that Toad of Toad Hall is one of those ubiquitous sorts of characters with little room for creative interpretation … not unlike Santa Claus from Bray’s Christmas production, although the characters themselves are diametric opposites.  Toad is a bloated, obnoxious, unremorseful thrill-seeker in whom no complexity or consideration should be detectable, else it isn’t Toad.

The main supporting cast are big on manic energy and slapstick charm.  Ratty (Madeleine Lynch) is something of a highly strung fall-guy, in contrast to Margaret Bremner’s affable Mole, the idiot savant, cowardly but loyal.  Brad Hills as Badger is a gruff, grandfatherly Scotsman with a potentially violent undercurrent. 

Fresh from December’s Santa Claus Show, the skilful, busy Sam Berkley whips up a veritable smorgasbord of slapstick in three contrasting roles as the friendly otter, the stern copper and the smarmy impertinent head weasel, the latter backed up by sneering lesser weasels as played by the stage managers, Alana Tisdall and Tama Jarman.

The costume design of Chantelle Gerrard and Sara Kolijn, which is splendid early 20th century British attire for the most part, along with Mem Bourke’s abstractly representational makeup artistry, combine to serve the characterisations excellently.  Toad’s green gullet-driven features are particularly impressive, and the only seemingly ‘unpolished’ costumes were the weasels with the droopy noses and the Just-William style schoolboy outfits. 

Dedicating The Wind in the Willows to his late English nana, director/script adaptor Tim Bray has once again captivated the attention of young and old alike with his quietly distinctive style of slick family theatre. 

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