Marvellous Machine have created a masterful adaptation of Orlando: a splendid piece of theatre in its own right, which also stays absolutely true to the spirit of the novel. Lines lifted from the book are brought to life and enriched by a cast whose faces and bodies are constantly engaged in telling the story to its full, bringing out Virginia Woolf’s humour, energy and literary daring. This production communicates so much about Orlando’s world – a world so rich, vivid and sensory that you could reach out and touch it, but at the same time completely fanciful. The third person narration, just as characterful as the dialogue, is approached in the same enchanting, confident and often tongue-in-cheek manner with which Woolf parodies biography.

Music and sound play a crucial part. The three musicians are onstage alongside the five actors, constantly contributing to the sound-world of the piece with enchanting tunes and a magical, makeshift soundscape, always directing the audience’s attention, once even joining the actors as part of the London crowd. The music to which the Thames freezes over is spooky and spellbinding. I also particularly enjoyed the long lull while Orlando’s car tries to start, when we were given time to take in the visual tableau and enjoy the ingenuity of live sound effects which so perfectly rendered the splutter of a car engine. This generally fast-paced production is not afraid to take its time when it wants to; it fully earns those slower moments – dancing, or setting a new scene, or simply breathing – in which plot does not progress but our immersion deepens.

The show embraces the uncertainties of gender expressed in Orlando, subtly acknowledging the book’s importance to queer and trans folk without introducing notions anachronistic to the original text. Casting has been done according to character, not gender, in a sensitive way, never making a cheap joke out of unconventional casting. For example, when Steve Walker dons a hooped skirt and ruff to become Queen Elizabeth, his characterisation is genuine, subtle and nuanced, focusing on her age and manner. Ella Ashdown inhabits all Orlando’s various selves and sexes authentically, and creates a connection with the audience so that we feel moments of tenderness personally, and share in Orlando’s experiences.

The show's aesthetic is something like genderqueer Tudorpunk. The costumes enable time-travel, with their ruffs, frills and ribbons plain in cream and red, era-non-specific and blissfully unaware of gender norms. The use of curtains and shadow puppets perhaps hints at some elusive truth deeper than appearances. Props are scattered willy-nilly onstage; new items and outfits arise organically out of the confusion, as unpredictably yet somehow naturally as the episodes in Orlando’s life. The small cast manage to make the stage feel plenty populated at all times, brimming with focused energy and delightful playfulness. They possess Woolf’s own skill for making disparate images coherent, for showing glimpses of meaning in the unfathomable, for disguising the familiar and making fantasy real.