The Sleeping Sword review

Originally published in 2002, The Sleeping Sword bears many of the hallmarks of its author Michael Morpurgo. Its storytelling combines classic themes of quest and redemption with British mythology. It also paints an authentic vision of life in the Scilly Isles – in this instance the island of Bryher, where our hero Ben Bundle (or Bun, as he is affectionately known) has grown up.

Life on the island is fairly idyllic for 10-year-old Bun, until a diving accident causes him to go blind. Initially distraught, he even considers suicide, but is saved by his friend Anna, who presents him with an audiobook about his favourite hero King Arthur. In the process of recording his own audiobook, Bun has a supernatural encounter with the Arthurian knight Sir Bedivere, who sends him on a mission to return the sword Excalibur to the safety of the stone.

Tatty Hennessy’s adaptation, directed by Lucy Jane Atkinson, draws much of its theatrical strength from Morpurgo’s original: the drama of its landscape and the enduring, mystical appeal of Arthurian legend. But there are significant changes that shift perspective. Hennessy’s version sets out to raise awareness around visual impairment, using the narrative to educate and inform. Pitched at young audiences, it touches on the psychology of sight-loss: Bun struggles to come to terms with the changes he has to make, but through his medieval challenge, he learns to accept and adapt.

Initially Aarian Mehrabani’s Bun seems a little forced, but the performance eventually settles, thanks largely to an easy rapport with Tika Mu’tamir’s wonderfully nerdy Anna. When they’re together, it’s somehow easier to accept that these adults are two kids, tackling life-changing issues with a young person’s pragmatism. Kirsty Ferriggi’s solid presence in various adult roles, including Bun’s father and the enigmatic Mrs Parsons, offers a welcome contrast.

Atkinson directs with broad, playful strokes, making much use of foley sound effects – often a feature of Watermill productions. The setting is Bun’s bedroom, but the rustle of a leather coat and the splashing of water transport us to the jetty, among the sailing boats at Bryher. With subtitles and audio description, this is theatre that aims to be accessible. And in time, the energy and enthusiasm of the performers casts its spell, conjuring a sprinkling of Morpurgo’s magic.