JADAR

★★★★☆

The Royal Shakespeare Company’s Matilda the Musical, now playing at the Palace Theatre, Manchester, as part of its UK and Ireland tour, remains one of the most inventive and joyful family musicals on stage. Based on Roald Dahl’s much-loved novel, with a book by Dennis Kelly, music and lyrics by Tim Minchin, and direction by Matthew Warchus, the show has lost none of its wit, charm, or emotional force.

The show draws not only adults who grew up with Dahl’s story but also large numbers of children encountering Matilda for the first time. That multigenerational audience feels entirely right: this is a musical that speaks to both childhood wonder and adult reflection.

At its heart, Matilda tells the story of an extraordinary little girl who refuses to accept the limits placed upon her. Armed with intelligence, imagination, and quiet courage, Matilda does not simply endure a cruel world; she challenges it. That spirit is what gives the musical its energy. Unlike many blockbuster musicals driven by adult romance or spectacle, this production places children at its centre, giving it a freshness and sincerity hard to resist.

At the performance I saw, Mollie Hutton was deeply impressive in the title role. Her voice still carries the lightness and innocence of childhood yet her stage presence is remarkably assured. She captured Matilda’s intelligence and vulnerability without ever making the character feel too polished or precocious. Instead, her performance felt truthful: a brave, brilliant child trying to make sense of a foolish adult world.

Around her, the young cast was equally striking. Lavender (Dottie Jones) and Nigel (Jacob Connor-Ashton) brought warmth, humour, and confidence, while the wider ensemble of schoolchildren gave the production its liveliness. What is most remarkable is not simply that these performers are talented at such a young age, but that they already seem so at ease on stage, fully committed to the rhythm, comedy, and emotional tone of the show. 

The adult cast is no less enjoyable. Mr and Mrs Wormwood (Adam Stafford and Rebecca Thornhill) bring a broad comic energy that keeps the audience laughing while also showing just how absurd and shallow Matilda’s parents are. Their scenes are exaggerated in exactly the right way. Tessa Kadler’s Miss Honey offers a lovely contrast: gentle, sincere, and warm, with a sweet voice that fits the role beautifully. Richard Hurst’s Miss Trunchbull is, of course, a towering presence, grotesque, ridiculous, and intimidating in all the ways the part demands. The adult characters create a world that is exaggerated almost to the point of caricature but never so much that it loses its emotional truth. Children recognise the unfairness; adults recognise the satire.

Musically, the production is superb. Tim Minchin’s score is witty throughout, but it is in ‘When I Grow Up’ and ‘Naughty’ that the musical becomes truly moving. ‘When I Grow Up’ begins with the innocent confidence of childhood, the simple belief that adulthood will bring freedom, certainty, and control. For children in the audience, the song is full of hope. For adults, however, it carries a quiet sadness. We know that growing up does not remove fear or confusion; it only changes its shape. The title itself, ‘When I Grow Up’, becomes emotionally powerful because it captures that universal childhood dream of becoming bigger than the world around us, only for adulthood to reveal that we are often still searching for courage.

That is why the transition to ‘Naughty’ feels so meaningful. The song is not really about mischief in a childish sense. It is about moral awakening: the moment a child realises that unfairness should not simply be accepted. Matilda’s defiance gives the show its ethical centre. Faced with a world shaped by selfishness, cruelty, and indifference, she chooses to act. In that sense, the contrast between ‘When I Grow Up’ and ‘Naughty’ is deeply philosophical. One song reflects the dream that age will make us strong; the other suggests that bravery is actually a matter of character, not years. Many adults in the world of Matilda are weak, vain, or cowardly, while Matilda herself, still a child, possesses the clearest sense of justice.

This is what makes the musical so touching. It reminds us that courage does not arrive automatically with adulthood, and that growing older does not necessarily mean growing wiser. Children imagine adults as people who understand the world, yet Matilda gently turns that idea upside down. Sometimes it is the child, not the adult, who sees most clearly what is right. By the end, the show leaves us with a moving thought: perhaps growing up is not about becoming powerful, but about holding on to the imagination, honesty, and moral courage that children often possess so naturally.