War Horse

The adaptation of Michael Morpurgo’s novel ‘War Horse’ by The National Theatre has to be one of the greatest theatrical achievements of the new millennium. The plot in its original form focuses on the carnage of the First World War from the perspective of Joey, a Devonshire thoroughbred who is sold by his cruel owner to the local yeomanry at the outbreak of the conflict. In the novel, Joey relates the highs and lows of his experience of the ‘Great War’ including his first cavalry charge, his capture by the Germans, and the different relationships he formed along the way with his various riders and the other horses who suffered the folly and brutality of that darkest episode in British history.
In this dramatization, the horses are portrayed by life-size puppets created for the production by the South African Company Handspring. These beautiful creations are made from bamboo, leather and gauze and each are manipulated by three actors who have been brilliantly trained by Handspring over the course of rehearsals to bring them to life. One actor operates the neck and head from outside with a rod, the other two manoeuvre the back and front legs from within its vast body. Although these magnificent ‘horses’ do not speak, we somehow see the action of the drama from their perspective and they are undoubtedly the stars of the show, especially Joey.
War Horse is a love story between the eponymous hero and Albert, the son of the cruel farmer who sells his beloved horse to the Yeomanry at the outset of the conflict. Albert finds in Joey in those brief years before the war everything missing in his father; affection, nobility, transcendence and he devotes himself to caring for the horse, protecting him from his hateful owner. Joey responds with all the admirable loyalty animals can offer humanity.
The wider story of the First World War that is told in ‘War Horse’ is in one sense very familiar; the horror of the guns, the desperate, doomed charges against the enemy, the gas, the shell shock of the soldiers. However, the unusual perspective we are given brings home both its tragedy and folly as if we are hearing about war for the first time. There is something very poignant about the mute chorus of puppets we encounter throughout the play. They are the silent witnesses of one of the most unforgivable crimes of that bloody century, and also the most innocent of its many victims.
Through the strange upside-down logic of theatre, the fact that they are puppets and that we can see the actors manipulating them makes them all the more real as we increasingly suspend our disbelief during the progress of the play. This is partly a tribute to the art of the puppeteers. The bamboo is cleverly crafted to define the geometric shapes that comprise the animal; the leather gives the colour and texture of the horse especially under stage lights. The skill and indeed humility of the puppeteers render themselves almost invisible after a while which makes the horses appear to have a life of their own. I became riveted by the mysterious impulses of these creatures throughout the course of the play. It was as though their puppeteers were acting as channels of some mysterious force that moved the horses at unexpected moments to respond to events happening on stage. The ‘horses’ manifested that strange intuitive wisdom that we associate with what’s best in animals and it was as though they alone could sense the impending doom as the British armies marched jauntily off to war in their bright buttoned uniforms, to the absurd sound of the brass bands.
There is something almost mechanical about the appearance of these creatures, with wheel-like hip joints tapering into stilt-like legs which break at intricately designed sockets. This underlines both the sheer beauty of the animal’s design and also the way a reckless humanity reduces such beauty to a mere function in its absurd projects like the ‘Great War.’ The insanity which swept Europe into this futile conflict, is frequently underlined in the production by the fact the many of the soldiers have no idea how to look after their horses. They use hunting horses like Joey and Topthorn as farm horses to cart weaponry across the boggy fields of France, and one of the most pitiful sights in the play, is the latter’s inevitable collapse from sheer exhaustion. When man loses touch with nature, all hell breaks loose. We are still learning this, alas.
Despite the grim realism of the plot, there was in this adaptation a haunting mysticism which brought a sense of transcendence to the drama. This was achieved largely through some glorious folk songs from the composer John Tams. These were performed by a lone figure with his accordion standing chorus-like, on the edge of the stage between the battles. He sang of the cycles of nature, the hardiness of the land and its enduring capacity for renewal, and through this and the heroism of characters like Joey and Albert, we are left with hope. People often ask where God might be, when we witness the worst that humanity can do. One answer that is often suggested is to say that he is to be found in the innocent victim. In this re-telling of the horror of war, the Divine was made manifest in Joey, the noble and courageous war horse brought vividly to life by his sensitive puppeteers. If you don’t get to see the play, read the book.