Theatre / Peter/Wendy by Jeremy Bloom, directed by Rachel Pengilly. At the Mill Theatre, until September 27. Reviewed by ARNE SJOSTEDT.

Sitting down to experience this show immediately invoked a host of comforting, nostalgic emotions.

Helen Wojitas’ set was immersive, in a wonderful way, and even carried the familiar smell of a theatre. It was evocative of things you forget you liked. A powerful way to establish the world for what was to come.

Watching this production of Jeremy Bloom’s Peter/Wendy was like being in a dream. Its visual impact was compelling, yet you viewed it at a distance. Its logic was fluid, yet often confusing. Though it was also wonderfully magical. And none of it makes much sense until you wake up.

This was a play of two experiences. Firstly, the magical and beautiful – thanks to the achievements of director Rachel Pengilly, her production team, and the committed cast, an infectious energy flowed about the stage like a superbly choreographed children’s theme party.

The other side of the experience came from the play itself. Construction, the stuff the cast had to work with, posed challenges. It leaned on lyrical dialogue and fragmented narrative, moving quickly between scenes. Characterisation relied more on knowing who the characters were than on developing them on stage.

Without familiarity with JM Barrie’s story, the play risks leaving newcomers adrift, decoupling them from engaging with the story itself, yet this play leaves you feeling good.

The cast successfully and faithfully presented the text and didn’t flinch from components that were difficult to follow. You are forced to let go and accept the lyricism and delightful confusion, much like when listening to the conversations of children at play.

In the end, this Australian premiere works, and captures Bloom’s likely aim (or at least one of them). It strips a well-known children’s story down to its essence, to give a sense of being young again. And that, with its sweet sense of youthful potential and ever-present joyful confusion, is a feeling worth bottling.