A Whimsical Triumph in London
Location: London
Time: 2025 April 5
Introduction: A Dream Brought to Life
Stepping into the world of My Neighbour Totoro is like taking a gentle plunge into a daydream—one lined with soft moss, rustling leaves, and the laughter of children echoing through the countryside. On the 5th of April 2025, I had the pleasure of attending the stage adaptation of this beloved classic at the Gillian Lynne Theatre in London. And what a profound, soul-touching experience it was.
The show isn't just a theatrical event; it's a time machine, a tribute, and a celebration of imagination. It pays homage to Hayao Miyazaki’s 1988 animated masterpiece, reimagined for the stage with such delicacy and wonder that I left the theatre misty-eyed and brimming with joy.
Background: From Studio Ghibli’s Canvas to the West End Stage
Originally created by the legendary Hayao Miyazaki and animated by Studio Ghibli for Tokuma Shoten, My Neighbour Totoro is widely regarded as one of the greatest animated films of all time. Released in 1988, it follows the story of two young sisters who move to the Japanese countryside with their father while their mother is hospitalised for an unspecified illness.
The story meanders gently through the girls’ adjustment to their new home, punctuated by whimsical encounters with forest spirits—chief among them the eponymous Totoro, a rotund, furry creature of enormous charm and mystery. Totoro becomes a friend, a protector, and in many ways, a symbol of nature’s unseen magic and the comforting presence of hope.
Adapting such a cherished film for the stage is no easy feat. The expectations are colossal, and the risk of diminishing its nostalgic glow is real. But what unfolded on the stage in London that evening was nothing short of extraordinary.
First Impressions: A Buzz of Anticipation
Arriving at the theatre, I was immediately struck by the sheer number of people. The venue was bustling with anticipation—a mixture of Ghibli fans, theatre enthusiasts, and curious newcomers. Interestingly, I noticed that the audience skewed older than expected. While one might assume this show is a children's affair, the majority seemed to be in their 30s and beyond—perhaps a testament to the enduring legacy of the original film and its resonance with those who grew up under its spell.
The merchandise shop offered a modest selection of souvenirs—Totoro plushies, themed T-shirts, postcards. While charming, the selection didn’t particularly stand out to me, and I left empty-handed. My thoughts were already focused on the performance that lay ahead.
As we entered the main hall, I was slightly underwhelmed by the stage’s initial appearance. The curtain remained down, concealing the set, and from my seat, the stage looked surprisingly small. The room, however, was packed to the brim, with not a single empty seat in sight—a promising sign.
The Performance: A Heartfelt Tapestry of Magic and Emotion
The Cast: Youthful Energy and Genuine Warmth
The actors brought infectious energy to the stage, especially those portraying the children. Mei, the younger sister, was portrayed with uncanny accuracy—her boundless curiosity, mischievous giggles, and sudden outbursts were so authentic that I nearly forgot I was watching a performance. The actress embodied the spirit of a four-year-old with astonishing skill: energetic, unfiltered, and uncontainably joyful.
Satsuki, the elder sister, was played with a wonderful blend of maturity and vulnerability. Her emotional arc—torn between caring for her sister and coping with their mother’s illness—was tenderly conveyed. The father, too, was a comforting presence: warm, eccentric, and grounded, always ready with a smile or an offbeat scientific explanation.
What made the performances truly memorable was their refusal to pander. This wasn’t a saccharine caricature of childhood—it was honest and complex, filled with moments of wonder, anxiety, joy, and sadness, just like real life.
The Set and Props: A Visual Feast
Once the curtains rose, I gasped. The transformation was remarkable.
The set design evoked the Japanese countryside with poetic detail. Bamboo groves, grassy hills, and softly swaying trees gave the stage a painterly quality, as though the animators themselves had lent their brushes. The lighting was masterful, shifting from golden afternoon light to the moody hues of dusk and the soft glow of moonlight with seamless grace.
But the true stars of the show were the puppets—ingeniously crafted and brought to life with breath-taking precision.
Totoro was magnificent. Towering, furry, and gently lumbering, he was puppeteered in such a way that you forgot he wasn't real. His blinking eyes, twitching whiskers, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing created a mesmerising illusion of life. A performer cloaked in pink fabric operated his enormous tongue with subtle gestures, enhancing the magical surrealism of his presence.
The Catbus was another showstopper. Lit from within, it bounded across the stage with tail lifted high by deft puppeteers. The glowing eyes and rippling fur made it feel electric and alive, and when it opened its side to reveal its plush, seat-lined interior, the entire audience gasped audibly. It was a spectacle of joy.
Other smaller spirits—the soot sprites, for instance—were cleverly manipulated by black-clad puppeteers, a nod to Japanese Bunraku tradition. This blend of Eastern puppetry and Western theatrical techniques created a wholly unique aesthetic that felt deeply respectful to the source material.
Sound and Music: The Soul of the Show
One of the most enchanting aspects of the original film is its score by Joe Hisaishi, and I was thrilled to see it beautifully retained and reinterpreted in this production. The orchestra, partially visible from the sides of the stage, breathed life into every scene with their renditions of iconic melodies.
Most impressively, the music retained its Japanese lyrics in key moments, a decision I found both brave and inspired. The songs' Japanese phrasing maintained the spirit of the original, especially in scenes that leaned heavily into cultural nuance. At times, the lyrics were sung in English, especially where narrative clarity or emotional accessibility was needed, creating a delicate and thoughtful bilingual balance.
This musical duality did not feel disjointed. Instead, it acted as a bridge—allowing English-speaking audiences to immerse themselves while still honouring the film’s roots.
Language and Dialogue: A Harmonious Blend
The script was cleverly adapted to English, yet it retained several Japanese expressions and cultural elements that added authenticity. For example, the phrase “Tadaima” (“I’m home”) and its response “Okaeri” (“Welcome home”) were preserved in their original form during certain scenes. Though subtle, this decision added a delightful touch for those familiar with Japanese culture and didn't detract from comprehension for those who weren’t.
The characters’ dialogues felt natural and unforced. Much like in the film, the children often interrupted one another, asked strange questions, or lapsed into silence, creating an organic rhythm to the speech that felt deeply human.
Audience Reaction: Nostalgia Meets New Discovery
What struck me most about the audience was their collective reverence. There was laughter—plenty of it, especially during Mei’s exuberant antics—but also a tangible hush during the show’s quieter, more emotional moments. No one fidgeted. No one whispered. It was as though we were all children again, holding our breath, hoping the magic wouldn’t vanish if we moved too much.
Interestingly, as I mentioned earlier, the majority of the audience appeared to be adults in their 30s and 40s. Many, I’m sure, were drawn to this show not as first-timers, but as returning visitors to a childhood memory. There was a shared sense of rediscovery in the room—a bittersweet reminder of the days when imagination ran untamed and the world seemed filled with quiet miracles.
Themes and Messages: Still Relevant Today
Beneath its whimsical surface, My Neighbour Totoro explores themes that resonate universally—grief, change, resilience, the power of imagination, and the unspoken connection between humans and nature.
The stage adaptation doesn't shy away from these complexities. It handles the mother’s illness with dignity, showing how it affects each family member in different ways. It celebrates sibling bonds, the small victories of growing up, and the unseen forces—be they magical creatures or inner strength—that help us through difficult times.
In today’s fast-paced, hyper-digital world, the show’s gentle pace is almost radical. It invites us to slow down, to listen to the wind, to notice the rustling leaves, and to believe, even for a night, that there might be something wonderful just out of sight.
Final Thoughts: A Masterclass in Theatrical Adaptation
To say I was moved would be an understatement. My Neighbour Totoro is not simply a retelling; it is a reinvention that honours its source with humility, artistry, and profound care. It succeeds not just in capturing the film’s visual splendour, but in echoing its emotional truth.
Whether you are a lifelong fan or a newcomer to the world of Ghibli, this production offers something rare: a reminder of what it feels like to be small in a big world, and how that world can be full of wonder, even in the quietest corners.