In 2016 it was made into a film starring Lewis MacDougall, Sigourney Weaver, Felicity Jones and Liam Neeson. This theatrical version opened at the Bristol Old Vic in 2016 before transferring to the Old Vic, London, and then went on a tour of the UK from February 2020. The play was devised by the original company with Adam Peck as Dramaturge.

Conor is 13; his mother, Bea, has terminal cancer. Conor’s nightmares come at 12.07: a monster comes walking to deliver three educative stories to Conor and then finally to hear Conor’s truth. The story has overtones of A Christmas Carol and its title echoes the classic An Inspector Calls where an enigmatic stranger turns up unexpectedly to make a moral point. I did wonder why the time was 12.07 and indeed late on, Conor asks the Monster “Why do you always come at 12.07?” but this question goes unanswered. It may just be coincidence, but the Book of Job 12.7 opens with “But ask the animals, and they will teach you…” 

One of the main challenges for this play is the number of scenes (over 30) which include internals, externals and car drives, as well as fantastical story locations and a yew tree. Many of the scenes are noticeably short, and so the action needs to keep moving with minimal changes.  Another challenge is casting the central roles of the Monster and Conor who need to be convincing, along with a large ensemble cast.

The staging, designed by Chris Janes and the director, used an immense amount of wood:  twisted and fractured. Some pieces made a frame at the front of the stage with others at the back. Maybe it was just from the angle I was sat, but it took me a while before I realised, I think, that the circle of wood at the back was made to resemble a smashed clock with the ‘hands’ set at 12.07. This setting, along with wooden blocks was used to make chairs, desks, beds and cars as required, as well as a stunning backdrop for the fantastic tales the monster tells. This ‘complex simplicity’ served the production extremely well, as the multiple scene changes were handled with minimal fuss. The effective tree was also made from similar wooden planks that were also used to create other scenes.

Lights, designed by Jack B Hathaway and operated by Derek Palmer, perfectly enhanced the scenic design. Lighting through the fractured wood made for some excellent shadows and there was good coverage in all the scenes. An ingenious device was the use of around 12 colour-changing LED tubes which were cleverly hidden on planks of wood. These were used throughout, both flashing in time with the music during transition / dream scenes and to enhance other scenes with relevant colour: the scene in the park therefore had ‘trees’ with green tops; the hospital scenes had a wonderful ‘antiseptic’ blue glow; and the car scenes had the headlights of other cars flashing past. This was a very effective concept. There was also a wonderful flicker to the final blackout.

The original wonderful music and sound was by Ian Cullen. The benefit of the original music was that pieces were timed perfectly to underscore the action: there was both ambient piano and thumping bass music in the transitions. The soundscape also aided the simplicity of the production: no need to ‘see’ a dishwasher when the actor can mime it, and we can hear it being switched on. There was also live manipulating / echo of the Monster’s voice which helped to enhance the ‘other-worldliness’ of his character. All other noises such as school bells and passing cars were appropriate.

Props were also kept to a minimum – such as cereal bowls, bags, some funny wigs – but were all fitting. The only realistic prop required in the whole play is in the final scene in the hospital, when a convincing looking hospital bed was brought on. Costumes were by Tiffany Breeze and Jenny O’Sullivan. Again, changes were kept to a minimum: modern attire, including Conor and the school-children all with matching blazers. The all-black hoodie costumes of the ensemble echoed the Kuroko in Japanese Noh theatre, the colour implying they’re invisible. The costume for the Monster, who’s described as a yew tree with echoes of Herne the Hunter or the Green Man from English folklore, worked perfectly: brown ‘trunk’ trousers, a green ‘leaves and berries’ tunic, and fabulous tattoos on his feet, arms and head to look like veins.

Choreography by Lynsey Wallace ensured a consistent approach to movement throughout the production, especially during scenes supporting the Monster and the transitions, which were all handled by the ensemble in a simple but balletic manner.

The sheer number of both sound and lighting cues, and all the other technical elements working together in harmony with the staging, made for a production that looked and sounded first-class.

In terms of acting, Isaac Pengelley displayed extraordinary talent as Conor, personifying petulant frustration which ultimately erupts into anger as he inflicts both destruction and injury. His convincing portrayal was at times necessarily defensive, fearful and hurt. He expertly navigated the switch between the scenes of Conor’s home life and the world of the Monster and its stories and brought out surprising humour in this dark play, A good example was when he interrupted the Monster’s earnest first tale about a wicked Queen who intended to marry a Prince with “That’s disgusting! She was his grandmother!”. This was a fine performance from such a young actor.

Conor’s mum was tenderly performed by Rachel Wallace and her performance gradually became more heart-breaking as her cancer took hold and we witnessed her physical deterioration as the scenes progressed. The final image of Conor sitting on her hospital bed as they cling to each other was profoundly moving.

Characters we see Conor rub up against include his gran, his dad and some people at his school. As the gran, Jan Palmer Sayer perfectly depicted a woman struggling to cope with Conor while having to watch her daughter slowly die. This actor has a wonderful physical energy and stage presence as she bustles about trying to be practical and take control of a largely uncontrollable situation, but her final scenes with Conor were equally tender. As Conor’s dad, Gavin Palmer was bright and breezy and convincingly Americanised given that he’s moved to start a new life in the US. The comedy was wrung out from the culture clash in the scenes between him and Conor, but again these scenes were also emotionally charged.

Max Potter was excellent as the charismatic school bully, Harry, with strong vocal work and a great command of the stage. Kizzie Hopkinson was very convincing as the concerned Lily who tries to engage with Conor, and Alice Croot played Conor’s teacher, Mrs Godfrey, with the required sympathy and authority. The rest of the cast also played some other minor speaking roles and helped build the various scenes they were involved in, be that personifying the Monster / tree; changing the scenes and props; illustrating the stories; or as Conor’s school classmates. The rest of the ensemble work was undertaken by Martha Baker, Noah Breeze, Doug Brooker, Alani Doggett, and Louise Wileman, and they all played their full part in the production.

And finally, as the Monster, John Cook took on an exceedingly difficult role to great effect. He was, at times, both terrifying and comforting, His physical and vocal work was exemplary as he commanded the stage whenever he was on it. This was a powerful and credible performance of a fantastic creature.

The director, Mark O’Sullivan, ably assisted by Nick Baker, demonstrated a clear vision for this play and all technical and dramatic choices were in perfect harmony. Aided by the production choices mentioned earlier, the pace built toward the play’s inevitable, tragic end. There were many memorable pictures, both in the staging of the Monster’s tales and also the realisation of the real-world scenes. The whole of the stage was used to good effect and, in summary, this was a wonderfully engaging and moving production.

Many of us will have stared death in the face. I haven’t thought about it for many years, but in a Proustian moment while sitting watching this performance, I recalled something that I haven’t thought about for some time. In the early eighties, when I was about ten, I was alone in the kitchen with my mum when she passed out: she dropped where she stood, smacking her head on the cooker as she went down. I ran outside to get my dad, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside the house. I stood at the end of our road, convincing myself that the ambulance wouldn’t know where to go unless I was there to point them in. Classic coping strategy, I suppose, just like Conor.

I’m sure I’m not the only one for whom this play resonated, and all should be proud of staging such an affecting play, with such a strong cast supporting great central performances.