Review: WATER FOR ELEPHANTS at The National Theatre

Water for Elephants is the 2024 musical adaptation of Sara Gruen’s 2006 novel of the same name, which was also adapted for film in 2011. The story starts with the elderly Jacob Jankowski reminiscing about his time working in the circus in the 1930s. Mostly through flashbacks, he recounts how he came to join the infamous Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth and the events that led to the deadly stampede that closed it down. 

Jacob, a veterinary student, loses his family, home, and family practice after a tragic accident in 1931. In desperation, he leaves school and joins the circus, first working at a series of odd jobs and ultimately becoming the circus vet. His expertise and affinity for the animals wins him the trust of the “kinkers” and “rousts” (performers and crew), and he instantly bonds with performer Marlena while trying to help her ailing mare. When Benzini Brothers loses its star act, August, the ringleader—and Marlena’s husband—buys Rosie, an elephant who is impressive, but difficult to train. Rosie quickly bonds with Jacob and Marlena through bribes of Cracker Jacks and whiskey, but August’s use of the cane she was sold with only further agitates her, leading to tension between those relying on the success of the act. Rosie’s fame raises the circus’s profile and spirits and brings Jacob and Marlena closer, much to the jealous and abusive August’s dismay. His temper drives him to hurt all three of them, as well as to order the “red-lighting” (removal) of other members of the circus who begin to defy him, ultimately leading to the infamous stampede and Jacob, Marlena, and Rosie’s departure. 

With the older Jacob (Robert Tully) narrating, Rick Elice’s musical tells the story serviceably, though the flashforwards and flashbacks are occasionally a bit muddled. The older Jacob’s presence, sometimes switching places with his younger self (played by Zachary Keller) at times feels a bit jarring or unnecessary. The side characters, though charming, are never fully fleshed out beyond caricatures, despite unexplored glimpses of backstories that presumably motivate their behavior. The storytelling is thankfully elevated by a menagerie of beautifully crafted and articulated puppets, created by Camille Labarre of LAB LAB (also responsible for the beloved Milky White puppet from the 2022 revival of Into the Woods) and Ray Wetmore & JR Goodman at More Good Productions, and the awesome blend of choreography and acrobatics from co-choreographers Shana Carroll and Jesse Robb. Unfortunately, they do not entirely overcome the mostly forgettable music and lyrics by Pigpen Theatre Co. The show often gets in its own way; it doesn’t pick up momentum until the third song, “The Road Don’t Make You Young,” and that momentum is almost immediately cut off. At another point, a beautiful concept—the reveal of the Rosie puppet—is undercut by overemphasizing the first piece, as though the show is too aware that this is its main offering and doesn’t know how to not lean too heavily into it.  

The National Tour production, which set up its tent at The National Theatre as part of the “Broadway at the National” series, simply can’t escape the sins of the show, though it puts up a valiant attempt. The stunning ensemble and their effortless combination of acrobatics, choreography, puppetry, and song are probably worth the ticket alone. Their combination of skill and grace is easily the highlight of the production. The clever use sledgehammers to keep the beat during “The Road Don’t Make You Young” is an entertaining and engaging way to establish the crew’s daily routine, and the incorporation of flips and stunts adds a charming layer that brings the circus to life for the audience. Acrobatics are used for both emotive storytelling and transitions throughout the show – for example, with Yves Artières’s stunning combination of aerial work with puppetry in “Easy.” The lively “Zostań” in Act II particularly allows the full ensemble and acrobatic performers to shine. The main cast members make a fair attempt as well, but their performances are unfortunately more directly impacted by the lackluster script and songs. The combination of that and some interesting directorial choices leads to a sense of watching three separate shows: one with the ensemble’s performance, one with vibrant and bold characters, and one with characters who almost shrink away entirely. 

As the elder version of Jacob, Robert Tully guides the audience through his memories, and he carries the task well enough. However, he rarely seems to be appropriately aged—he’s treated as much older and more addled than he appears, and that disconnect makes his character unnecessarily confusing. While the novel and movie nod at the idea of Jacob as an unreliable narrator, we never really get that sense in his narration or demeanor, instead only questioning why he’s in a nursing home and why everyone seems to question his capacities. Zachary Keller brings a passion and boyish wonder to the younger Jacob, though he occasionally seems to slip between extremes—mourning his family, awe for the animals, infatuation with Marlena, and struggling to befriend the suspicious kinkers and rousts—rather than allowing for a more nuanced or layered performance. Doubling as August and the current-day ringleader, Charlie, Connor Sullivan emanates an undercurrent of dread even in August’s brighter moments, building the tension between his character and the others throughout the show to make the final explosions that much more cathartic. Sullivan’s mixture of menace and charm makes him incredibly compelling to watch, and it’s a particularly fun contrast against Tyler West’s portrayal of Walter, the fifth-generation clown whose act is charmingly entertaining but whose surlier offstage persona helps show Jacob’s journey from outsider to accepted team member. West’s Walter also serves as a satisfying midpoint between Javier Garcia’s welcoming Camel, whose reliance on alcohol after the war has taken its toll on his body, and Grant Huneycutt’s Wade, whose post-war state has left him vulnerable to August’s manipulation, branding him an outsider even among the insiders. 

Unfortunately, the women in this production don’t fare as well, despite very clear talent. Ruby Gibbs is underutilized as Barbara, whose character often feels forgotten; when she’s given a moment to shine in “Squeaky Wheel,” her neglect feels like an especially poor choice, since both Gibbs and Barbara are vocal and comedic standouts when they’re finally given the stage. Likewise, Helen Krushinski, who doubles as Marlena and her modern-day counterpart, Jane, is a beautiful and engaging performer but often seems to be holding herself back. It’s most noticeable in her scenes opposite the effervescent Keller, and her noticeable restraint on her own talents not only makes for an awkward contrast but is incredibly frustrating to watch. Marlena rarely gets to have her own voice, as her story is mostly told by her abusive husband or through Jacob’s eyes, but at least the performer should.  

The tour is aided by a few solid production elements, especially Takeshi Kata’s fun and at times stunning scenic design, and David I. Reynoso’s wonderful costumes, which are both period-appropriate and flexible enough to allow for the complex routines. Bradley King’s lighting adds a nice tone to the whole production, though Walter Trarbach’s sound design unfortunately contributed to the uneven performances, with some voices overpowering others, even in ensemble numbers. Frustratingly, one production element also detracted from the overall performance; I would blame it on the nature of a tour having less time on the stage ahead of opening if it hadn’t been avoided at every other Broadway at the National production I’ve seen over the years: the stage-left wings were visible to the audience throughout the entire performance. This element didn’t seem to be intentional, but the constant movement of the cast and crew in the wings drew the eye, especially when their flashlights shone in an otherwise dark space. It interrupted the verisimilitude of the show when characters ran off stage (to complete a task related to the plot), tapped the set piece in the wings, waited a beat, then reentered. What made this even more frustrating is that multiple curtain pieces nearby could have been adjusted but never were, even during intermission. 

Overall, though, the biggest issue with the musical adaptation of Water for Elephants is that it doesn’t seem to know what it’s trying to be; it conveys no message or reason for this particular retelling, except for the opportunity to display some choreographic and performance talent that would be better served by stronger material. Fans of the novel or film will probably find the musical fun, if a bit thin, but anyone who was satisfied with those or who skipped them entirely may not find this production the best use of their time. Though it could be worth seeing just for the choreography, acrobatics, and aerial work—or for Rosie, who is the star, after all. 

Water for Elephants plays at The National Theatre, as part of the Broadway at the National series, through December 14th. Performance run time is approximately 2 hours and 40 minutes, with one intermission. Trigger warnings for references to domestic violence, animal abuse, and alcohol abuse. Information on tickets, accessibility, and performance times can be found on the National Theatre website. 

Photo credits: Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade