The Little Prince
based on the book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Town Hall Theatre,
October 18, 2025
One of the best-selling books of all time, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's novella is a classic.
A pilot crashes in the Sahara Desert and happens upon 'The Little Prince', a young boy from a small asteroid who is travelling the universe. It had been quite some time since I had read the book, so Toby Thompson's theatrical adaptation came as a welcome refresher.
Unsurprisingly, the little prince cannot understand how we do things here on earth. Herein lies the essence of the story, which is as relevant today as it was when the book was published in 1943, during the Second World War.
Being a child, the prince views the world through a lens of innocence, struggling to grasp concepts such as wealth, greed, vanity and power. During his travels, he has various experiences which make him question the senseless behaviour of adults, and ultimately lead him to return home to his asteroid, where his cherished rose awaits him. The Little Prince's message is remarkably simple: it is a message of kindness, friendship and love.
Sadly, the message is not conveyed effectively in this disappointing, muddled production. Thompson's performance is overly flamboyant and, at times, painfully unfunny, leaving children agitated and parents perplexed as to what exactly it is that they have come to see.
The Little Prince may have gone down wonderfully at The Egg, an established and well regarded theatre in Bath, but this does not necessarily mean that it will transfer successfully to Ireland. It might be a question of taste, or even cultural difference, but it was obvious that this show was not connecting with the audience, which made for uncomfortable viewing at The Town Hall Theatre.
A segment, for instance, which addresses adults' obsession with numbers, sees Thompson playing both child and parent in what could only have been intended as a comedic detour. The story comes to a halt for about five minutes to make way for a completely unnecessary scene, involving Thompson jumping up and down from empty tins of paint, going from high-pitched 'kiddy' voice, to deep, 'adulty' voice, leaving most of us pleading internally for it to end.
The performer was not helped by the sound, which was too low, even though he was mic'd up. Nor was he served by the direction, which sees the characters dumbed-down, and given to prancing around the stage. For there is ample evidence that Thompson can act, such as in the more serious distress signal scenes, which make us feel like we are right there in the desert with him.
A strange and rare misfire in what is otherwise a very impressive Baboró line-up.
