This lavish, warm-hearted production of Edith Nesbit’s classic novel, now three years old, returns in triumph to Waterloo Station. Nesbit’s tale of three adventurous upper-middle class children suddenly thrust into a life of (relative) poverty and ripped from the city to a remote rural village is one of the very finest children’s stories of the 20th century, and it is served superbly by Mike Kenny’s adaptation and the classiest production values in town.

Joanna Scotcher’s design engulfs an entire platform in Waterloo’s abandoned Eurostar terminal, transforming it into the idyllic station of Oakworth. The audience are seated at either side of the track, which is ingeniously used for a series of moving stages and, of course, the great Victorian steam-train itself. By placing the railway in the very centre of the design, by making its magic the focus of every scene, we all experience the childish glee which the thundering iron beasts produce for Roberta, Phyllis and Peter. Even the landslide which triggers the story’s most iconic episode is rendered by an avalanche of collapsing luggage; we grow to love the railway as the children do, making the eventual entrance of the (wisely underused) locomotive a lot more stirring than it has any right to be.

All of this would be for nothing if the performances failed to convince, but fortunately director Damien Cruden has assembled a superb cast, and though the protagonists are clearly considerably older than their characters (roughly 10 years older I’d say) they remain both charming and convincing. Best of all is Marcus Brigstocke, who rises brilliantly to the unenviable task of filling shoes so fondly associated with Bernard Cribbins from the 1970 film version, and whose Mr Perks interacts brilliantly with the audience during the pre-set and interval.

Kenny’s script builds the story from the remembrances of the three children, which spar with one another in constant squabbling contradictions, sparking energetically through Nesbit’s episodic narrative. Each much-loved set piece brings with it another masterful, inventive staging, and by the time Amy Noble’s Roberta makes her climactic run into her father’s arms, the grown-ups are sobbing into their programmes and the children are spell-bound.

An inelegant system of radio mics is the only drawback to this entire production, with a slight time-delay garbling a number of scenes and giving characters the tone of a Tannoy announcement. Surely not a case of taking the railway station-theming too far, this problem really should be corrected soon, as barring it The Railway Children is a perfect, funny, inventive, uncynical delight.

- Stewart Pringle

The abandoned Eurostar platforms at Waterloo Station have been imaginatively appropriated for Damian Cruden’s acclaimed Theatre Royal, York, production of E Nesbit’s famous story The Railway Children, first seen at the National Railway Museum in York two years ago.

It’s an engaging and occasionally thrilling occasion – especially when the gleaming green locomotive puffs into view along the railway tracks – but there are a few narrative loose ends: how exactly is the children’s father sprung from prison after serving time as a suspected spy? And how does the boy who breaks his leg in the tunnel not get killed by the rushing train?

There’s a lack of real charm, too, in the acting, despite the best efforts of Sarah Quintrell to challenge a still prevalent national crush on Jenny Agutter in the role of the elder daughter in the 1970 movie; Marshall Lancaster to provide his own chirpiness, and chippiness, as the station master Albert Perks; and Caroline Harker to be both firm, and poorly, as the displaced mother, trying to make ends meet by writing sort stories.

Despite the gloomy interior of the Eurostar ghost town, designer Joanna Scotcher has provided a picturesque bridge, signal box and a swishing black gauze curtain for the tunnel. The scenes are played on moving platforms pushed along the tracks by porters. The audience of 900-plus maximum is ranged on either side in long terraces.

The children’s adjustment to new circumstances, bordering on poverty, is nicely framed in the playing of them by grown actors – Nicholas Bishop as Peter, Louisa Clein as Phyllis –looking back on themselves.

And their scrapes with the errant Russian dissident (a bearded Blair Plant) in search of his family, their heroism in averting an accident by waving flags improvised from the girls’ red petticoats, and their friendship with the mysterious Old Gentleman (David Baron) who passes each day on the same London train; all this has the stamp of a vintage Trevor Nunn production without the emotional heft or killer staging.

Mike Kenny’s text toys with theatrical artifice while following Lionel Jeffries (who wrote and directed the film) in his loyalty to Nesbit. The words are often distorted in the ugly voice mics, though Christopher Madin’s recorded music has the right sort of blare and excitement.

The show is an admirable feat of technical engineering, and could easily catch on as a recession-defying summer treat. You can buy mugs, teddies and tee-shirts, as well as the book, at The Railway Children shop in the departure lounge. And there’s even a toy train for little’uns to board in the ticket office area.

- by Michael Coveney

Smoke hangs in the air above the piles of vintage suitcases that lie at the entrance to an Edwardian railway station recreated indoors, complete with platforms one and two, in which the audience are seated, facing each other across open rail tracks. This is the evocative location within the National Rail Museum, which is the setting for York Theatre Royal’s returning production of The Railway Children.

An influx of characters in full period costume - flowing cloaks and top hats (for the men), tailored, puff-shouldered jackets and long skirts (for the women) along with the last few members of the audience, authentically bring to life the lively bustle of a railway station.

Based upon E. Nesbitt’s novel, The Railway Children is a tale of a wealthy city family thrust into poorer circumstances in the small Yorkshire village of Oakworth, when their father is imprisoned after being wrongly accused of spying on the Government. With the help of a host of friendly neighbours, stationmaster Mr Perks, and a benevolent Old Gentleman whom the children spot on board a steam engine whilst on their daily trips to wave at it passing by, they manage to craft a life for themselves.

For the second year in a row York Theatre Royal has turned out an absolute classic, entertaining and vibrant, that uses the innovative set, designed by Joanna Scotcher to its full potential. Sliding ledges that join the two platforms are pushed above the train tracks by stagehands in black caps and waistcoats, and upon which the action of The Railway Children takes place. These are withdrawn to allow for the spectacular arrival of what is York Theatre Royal’s theatrical coup, Stirling Single, the locomotive built in 1870, gliding between the platforms at moments of high tension.

The childish quibbling of the siblings, Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis is brilliantly captured to comic effect, by respectively Sarah Quintrell, Jonathan Race and Frances Marshall, Marshall in particular’s wide-eyed, daft nature drawing laughs from the audience with ease. Her character’s charming silliness is further a perfect vessel for Mike Kenny’s artful inclusion of the audience at moments of theatrical trickery, with Phyllis often blithely addressing the audience, “You might want to remember this part!”

Newcomers to the production, in the form of Mr and Mrs Perks (Martin Barrass and Kali Peacock) adeptly join the original cast, Barrass’ deft timing and hilarious characterisation a neat counterpart to his onstage wife’s under-the breath and cutting - but undoubtedly fond - remarks.

Director Damian Cruden perfectly balances the sombre moments, fitting for the portrayal of the family’s struggle in the absence of their father, with light, comic touches that are naturally deployed to delight the audience. In his confident hands, Kenny’s adaptation is an unquestionable success.

- Vicky Ellis