Die-hard Walt Disney fans should not trot blithely in the Hammersmith direction in search of doe-eyed delights with a cheeky twist.
If Walt's Bambi symbolised the sunlit territory of childhood innocence, the clouds have gathered in earnest over this adolescent nightmare where a storyline bristling with predatory violence disturbs at the same time as it beguiles.
The Green Ginger theatre company counts Terry Gilliam among its many fans, who is no doubt entranced by its world of grotesque puppetry, designed to induce dark laughter and psychological shivers. From the moment the old man with a face like a fungal growth wheels himself onto the stage and summons servants to suck his toes before sorting out his ice-cream cravings, you know that you are on course for an evening veering between disgust and disbelief.
The setting is a concrete urban jungle, suggested by a projection onto the backcloth of tower blocks and barbed-wire. In this incarnation Bambi is a wide-eyed boy, desperate to acquire a layer of toughness so he can survive in the harsh world where "visors" patrol in overhead helicopters, shooting at anyone unfortunate enough to come within their headlights. His only shelter is the van where he lives with his mother and handicapped brother Gobo. But he is destined to lose both of them to the hostile environment that dominates all his experiences.
The parallels between this and the original Felix Salten story (the death of his mother carries especially strong echoes) bring a sobering realisation. The bastards in helicopters poisoning the atmosphere by preying on random individuals are behaving as humans routinely do towards animals, so the tragedies of the deaths are unsentimentally flung straight back into the audience members' faces.
John Barber, Terry Lee, James Osborne and Billy Paul bring the puppets to gorgeously gruesome life. This is a wonderful chance to walk on the weird side.
Bambi - The Wilderness Years
