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s Bristol Old Vic continues to be refurbished inside (I have written about how uncomfortable and creaky it used to be!), the enterprising team of Tom Morris and Emma Stenning (Artistic and Executive Directors, respectively) have taken to the streets to continue the theatre’s output. The result, Sally Cookson’s visually stunning, rip-roaring piratical adventure, is a triumph.

It’s hard to imagine more fun than sitting in balmy sunshine, full of pre-show Pieminster pie, watching a talented and extremely hard-working cast bring Jim Hawkins’ sea-faring, treasure-hunting, pirate-fighting exploits to life. Jim himself (Jonny Weldon) has an impressive range, and you cannot help but share his wide-eyed wonder as he finds his sea-legs, uncovers plots and finds the treasure. Tristan Sturrock’s villainous Long John Silver hops about the stage with admirable lightness of foot, and is clearly having a great time as the baddie with a heart, leaping around the split-level stage. On a side note, given that dead bodies not only get up and walk off-stage but also return seconds later reincarnated thanks to a swift wig-change, it seems kind of harsh to make Sturrock hop upstairs – no-one would have minded if he used his “missing” leg to get about a bit. However, he gamely hobbles about, wielding crutch, soup spoon and knife with accuracy and speed, much to the delight of the young audience.

Phil Edolls’ set is brilliant, full of ropes and rails to represent inn, ship and island, and back again. He has perfectly judged the small space, building up rather than out, and creating a playground of a stage across the front of the Old Vic that the cast embrace with gusto – using the first floor windows as entrances is a nice touch. The cast work incredibly hard, too, doubling or tripling up, and if this sometimes means that the accents get a bit lopsided, or take a while to catch up with the lightning-quick scene changes, well, this is easily forgiven on a warm summer evening when one is full of pie.

The whole thing is ridiculous fun, with pirates appearing left, right and centre, squiffy wigs transforming actors from pirate to doctor, and far too many rousing sea shanties. These are sung with more enthusiasm than skill, and although one or two are fun, overall they appear slightly too often – and the cast’s acting talents are not matched by beautiful voices. The music generally, however (composed, directed and performed by Benji Bower, with the cast chipping in), is well-judged and rousing – aided by un-scripted seagulls.

The whole cast displays an infectious enthusiasm, whether they are plotting foul murders or tucking into a glass of grog. The outdoor setting, screeching seagulls and neat Bristolian references are all nice, and make the play feel very at home in its temporary and rather hap-hazard space.

Treasure Island is being performed in a special space outside the Bristol Old Vic theatre until 26 August www.bristololdvic.org.uk

There was a lot to like about this production of The Jungle Book, mainly the parts that stayed truest to the magic of the book. However, writer Stuart Paterson and director Neal Foster have taken liberties with the plot and dialogue, adding in some rather twee ‘lessons’ about finding out who you really are, and then staying true to yourself. Just because it’s aimed at kids doesn’t excuse this kind of lazy moralising, especially when the material you have to work with is already so rich.

And then there were the songs. Given that the plot has already been Disney-fied with extraneous soul-searching, BB Cooper (with “additional music” from Gidon Fineman) could have capitalised on this and gone for up-beat songs in a similar vein to the film. Instead, we are subjected to dreary songs with lyrics (Barb Jungr) ranging from bland to laughably bad and dull, forgettable melodies. Don’t get me started on the dance routines. Not only were the musical numbers cringe-worthy, but also completely unnecessary. As I said, there was much to like about this show, and the songs were an unwelcome distraction from the otherwise fun production.

It had a big heart and a huge energy, with a hard-working cast. They all looked knackered at the end, but plastered on huge, musical-theatre grins and, yes, there were jazz hands. All had pleasant enough voices, although none really shone (this may have had more to do with the songs than the singers…). Simon Hargreaves is a bouncy, childish Mowgli, full of glee at outwitting his teachers, which proved popular with the young audience. My seven-year-old companion joined in the audience-participation with enthusiasm, despite the frequency with which this was required.

The dialogue was not bad – there was some nice borrowings from Kipling and Manley Hopkins for poetic phrases and flair, but it often lapsed into cliché or just didn’t quite ring true. However, we are in the jungle with wolf-boy and a rather camp tiger (Peter Sowerbutt having immense fun as the panto villain Sheer Khan), so perhaps dialogue falling slightly flat should be overlooked. The use of mics does not encourage naturalistic interaction between the cast, but given the volume of the backing tracks and background noise (which was nicely done) it was perhaps for the best that they were miked. Although that in turn did mean that we could hear the songs…

I am being harsh. These complaints did not spoil the whole evening, they just niggled. The set and costumes were great. We got clever, raggedy animal costumes with gorgeous masks (Gemma Hughes and Tanya Felts), beautiful giant puppets and a lush, green set covered in vines and trees (Jacqueline Trousdale). The cast make the most of the few, simple blocks and props – we are asked to use our imaginations a fair amount. This led to almost manic levels of playing to the audience from the cast, which was rather over the top for my taste, but the children in the audience were loving it.

While the show did not quite hit the spot for me, I was clearly not the target audience, so it would be churlish to be too critical. I shall leave you instead with a quote from my small companion who appreciated the production more than I did: when asked what her favourite part was she replied, “The elephant and the snake and the tiger and the wolves and the monkeys and all of it!”

There’s a certain irony to missing the start of The Railway Children because your train is delayed, and not an especially funny one. Peter’s desperate watch-checking after the landslide (which was nicely done with a dramatic tower of tumbling boxes) – “The 11.29 hasn’t been by yet! We’ve only got three minutes!” – lost a little of its tension knowing what we all know about British Rail – don’t worry, mate, you’ve got at least 20mins before you need to start panicking…

But this is Oakworth, not Kings Cross, and things happen differently here. In the Railway Children’s idyllic countryside world nothing really awful ever happens (well, nothing Mummy and the Old Gentleman can’t solve, any how), everyone’s “a brick”, and the happy ending is inevitable. Given such a cheesy story to work with, Damian Cruden directs to wring every last drop of emotion from Mike Kenny’s script, laying it on thick but getting away with it because, well, we want Daddy to come home and everything to be alright.

Kenny’s script borrows heavily from both book and film, but it feels right because we want the familiar, slightly saccharine story to unfold, heading inexorably to the famous “Daddy! My daddy!” scene where Bobby (Amy Noble) is reunited with her father (Stephen Beckett) and there is not a dry eye in the house. Well, my 12-year-old companion remained fairly stoic, but I was weeping into my handbag.

The children themselves were done well, although Grace Rowe has a tough job making the rather immature Phyllis likeable. Tim Lewis’s blustering Peter is sweet, and Amy Noble makes a mature and sensible Roberta, with more pluck than she is perhaps gifted in the original story. Blair Plant, sporting a rather wonderful pointy ginger beard, is a moving Schepansky. Marcus Brigstocke is clearing having a great time as the grumbly Mr Perks, complete with thick Yorkshire accent. His gruffness hides a soft heart, and we know three children who will win him round in the end. It’s all predictable enough, but wears its soppiness well.

Special mention must go to Christopher Madin who wrote the beautiful score – strains of Copeland and English pastoral interwoven with brilliant, hummable tunes that never overpower the cast or stray too far across the bounds of sentimentality. Not that a bit of sentimentality is necessarily a bad thing; designer Joanna Scotcher has done a lovely job of making the whole Eurostar terminal space at Waterloo station feel almost cosy. The set and costumes are lovely – there is a real sense of no-expense-spared with the whole production. And then there’s the train. A real, actual live steam train, which runs between the two banks of audience members, puffing and chuntering. It does not disappoint.

Yes, it’s pure, unadulterated schmaltz, but if that’s what you’re going for, then do it boldly, and your audience will go with you. Cruden and his cast tackle the sentimental story with vim and enough dramatic moments to cut through some of the sugar without killing the sweetness. It’s handled with a light touch, and the cast manage not to be outshone by the gleaming train. It’s packed with enough cheese to last you a long time, but this avowed cynic was won over by The Railway Children’s charm, playfulness and sense of fun.

Bouncy, boisterous and brutal, this is children’s theatre at its best. Rosamunde Hutt’s lively production is full of swash and buckle, without glossing over the darker side of the story which gives it its heart. If you can ignore the slight incongruity of people in high-vis vests suddenly drawing their rapiers – which is easy given the impressive energy displayed by the whole ensemble – the fight scenes steal the show: fight directors Rachel Bown-Williams and Ruth Cooper-Brown have done a fine job. Up, down and every which way around Christopher Fauld’s split-level set, the fights gallop about which the requisite spectacular rescues and near misses.

The whole production bursts with vim and humour, and it is impossible not to admire such a hard-working cast. Amaka Okafor, who excels as the fiery yet helpless Constance, notches up another five characters without breaking a sweat. Eric Nzaramba makes a smoulderingly evil Rochefort, a hard-drinking but sharp Athos and a hilariously vain Buckingham. Carl Miller’s adaptation pulls off a nice trick with the language barrier (the play moves between France and England) which I won’t spoil, but suffice to say that Nzaramba’s Buckingham gets the most laughs out of it. Liam Lane is a boyish and irrepressible D’Artagnan, who is forced to grow up during the course of the play. Lane charts this course with aplomb, from wide-eyed country boy to heart-broken wiser man, although his screeched “A woman weeps, a man revenges” doesn’t ring quite as true as when uttered by Nzaramba’s steely Athos.

Julie Hewlett has fun as Milady, stalking about the stage and bullying her servant (Samantha Adams). Along with Nzaramba’s scary Rochefort (“force is the only way”) and John Cockerill’s cold and merciless Cardinal, the audience is quickly caught up in the complex politics, plots and intrigues that surround the French court. There is a pleasing sense of knowing who we are supposed to be rooting for, and it gives the trio of baddies licence to enjoy being really jolly evil. Cockerill also plays a rather louche Aramis and adds some welcome comic relief as D’Artagnan’s quick-witted servant. Samantha Adams plays an amusingly smutty Porthos and a dignified Queen.

Some of this doubling, tripling and quadrupling gets a touch a confusing from time to time, but mostly it elicits admiration for the versatility and exuberance of the cast. The script also gets a little befuddled occasionally, with a odd mix of archaic syntax and modern language, but it was mostly clever and sharp. The songs were nicely chosen, and Okafor has a lovely voice. So, if there are children of your acquaintance who need something to do during the long Easter holidays, I suggest you hustle them off to the Unicorn for a cracking evening’s entertainment.

The Three Musketeers is playing at the Unicorn Theatre until 8th May. For more information and tickets, see the website here.