Condemned to infertility by a neighbouring witch, the couple must go on a quest to collect certain objects to lift the curse. Along the way, they encounter Cinderella, Rapunzel, Little Red Riding Hood, a couple of Prince Charmings, and Jack of beanstalk fame. All have wishes, and by the end of the first act all these dreams have been fulfilled. But happily ever after is not a concept that interests Sondheim, and in the second act a vengeful giant wreaks havoc, destruction, and death. By the play’s end, the survivors decide to live together in mutual support. They have learned to subsume personal desires for the greater good.

The initial critical reaction was far from positive. Some considered the change in tone between the first and second acts too abrupt, while others thought the ending too sentimental. In his program notes, director Eamon Flack equates the giant with Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher and the rise of what he describes as ‘unleashed individualism’, echoing Thatcher’s notorious remark: ‘There is no such thing as society.’ This is a valid way of approaching the piece. At the time there was no question but that the Giant was the virus that was causing so many to leave halfway, and mostly not even halfway through the woods. The climactic number ‘No One Is Alone’ was not so much a sentimental lie as a plea for collective action. It became something of an anthem.

Critical indifference notwithstanding, Into the Woods has become one of Sondheim’s most frequently performed works.

Justin Smith as the baker and Esther Hannaford as the baker's wife (photograph by Christopher Hayles)

Flack has taken on the challenge of adapting this formidable piece for the Belvoir stage. To quote Sondheim in the adaptation of Putting It Together (1992), which he wrote for Julie Andrews: ‘Lacking any scenic ostentation / This is not a Mackintosh production.’ On a plain stage, the actors perform around the band. We have stories told around pianos rather than campfires. This is not to say that Flack and his set and costume designers, Michael Hankin and Micka Agosta, do not provide us with the witty effects the script calls for – far from it. One involving a flying shoe is particularly deft. Flack’s production proves that, as with so much in the musical theatre canon, opera included, intelligent, imaginative, low-key productions can often deliver so much more than their overblown counterparts. A danger with this piece is the temptation to overdecorate the first half with glossy sets and an adorable actor-played cow, which brings it perilously close to pantomime and then undercuts the seriousness of the second half.

Guy Simpson’s task to shrink Jonathon Tunick’s orchestration to two pianos and percussion was perhaps even more challenging. It is a challenge he has triumphantly overcome.

It may have been a first-night problem but it took a while for the cast to settle in. There was a rather brittle quality to the opening number. At times the sound balance over-favoured the band. But as the performance progressed and the actors developed their characters, the show came together and the second act, usually considered the weaker one, came over powerfully.

The cast is uniformly strong and proves again the depth of talented singing actors in this country.

Mo Lovegrove’s Red Riding Hood, yearning for experiences she doesn’t quite understand, probably develops the most through the show. One feels that Red Riding Hood will become the driving force of the little band of survivors who remain at the play’s end. Lovegrove gets the right combination of bewildered excitement in ‘I Know Things Now’, which ends: ‘Isn’t it nice to know a lot? / And a little bit not.’

Tamsin Carroll’s Zsa Zsa Gabor accent came and went during the evening, but she was exactly the malignant diva the witch must be. Her anguished plea to Rapunzel, ‘Stay with Me’, was powerful, and her wonderfully creepy ‘Last Midnight’ was, as it should be, a highlight of the show.

The baker and his wife, as the most ‘normal’ couple, are the ones with whom we should empathise and Justin Smith and Esther Hannaford made a relatable pair. Hannaford’s baker wife is the more determined and ruthless of the two, but she, like all the others, changes in the woods. She is hilarious in her surprise tryst with one of the princes. If the play has a protagonist, it is the baker. Often this point is lost as the more flamboyant characters take the focus away from him, but Smith more than holds his own. His rock-solid voice and warm stage presence make his anguished plea for normality, ‘No More’, a song that some have considered superfluous, the moral centre of the piece.

Belvoir’s stripped-down production gives us the essence of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s challenging work.

Into the Woods (Belvoir St Theatre) continues at the Upstairs Theatre, Sydney, until 30 April 2023. Performance attended: 22 March.