“Paddington: The Musical” at Savoy Theatre
Franco Milazzo in the West End
4 December 2025
★★★★☆
If you ever doubted that a well-meaning bear with a penchant for marmalade and a ticket from darkest Peru could power a multi-million-pound West End musical then sit yourself down and meet Paddington: The Musical at the Savoy Theatre. This show is the kind of big, brash, slightly sticky love letter to London that almost begs for a restraining order such is its fervour.
Photo credit: Johan Persson.
Of course, the excitement around Paddington in London didn’t start on stage. For better or worse, the plot is derived from Paul King’s celebrated 2014 film (based on Michael Bond’s original stories): Paddington arrives in London, gets adopted by the Brown family, and ends up on the run from a villainous taxidermist (book by Jessica Swale). The musical sticks close enough to the film’s bones to be familiar but exaggerates, extends, adds extra comedy, songs, and chaos until the whole thing feels like someone gave the movie 50 extras, a smoke machine, and a tap-dancing bear. If the occasional subplot around teenage love or musical ambitions gets trampled underfoot, so be it.
Over the intervening years that film has had two sequels and the city has embraced the bear in other ways. There’s a proper immersive attraction, The Paddington Bear Experience on London’s South Bank, where families can wander through re-created Paddington settings, meet characters, help prepare for “Marmalade Day”, and maybe even sniff a marmalade sandwich or two. And if you fancy something more permanent, the city still proudly displays the bronze Paddington Bear statue at Platform 1 of London Paddington station, a nod to the bear’s origin and the moment he first set foot on British ground. Then there’s the 8-metre high mural outside Waterloo Station with some of Mrs Brown’s wise words: “In London everyone is different and that means anyone can fit in.” So this musical doesn’t exist in isolation and could be said to be part of a broader city–bear love affair.
Throughout the show, Paddington himself is brought to life by a combination of puppetry (by Tahra Zafar), animatronics, and that peculiar British willingness to emotionally bond with anything wearing a duffle coat. The bear looks authentic enough that you forget he isn’t a real talking mammal with a killer stare. His puppeteer Abbie Purvis (who alternates with Arti Shah and Ali Sarebani) together with the offstage actor James Hameed give him a sense of wonder, wobble, and connection that you don’t get with big-screen CGI.
The humans try to keep up as best as they can. The Browns are portrayed as the kind of family that believes the greatest threat to civilization is the wrong brand of tea. Mr Brown (Adrian Der Gregorian) gets a minor character arc involving trust, responsibility, and something vaguely moral about giving strangers a chance. Mrs Brown (Amy Ellen Richardson) is delightful in a determined, crafty way.
Millicent Clyde, the villain of the piece, is cut from the usual West End cloth: a pantomime tyrant with enough eyeliner to classify as goth, and enough gravitas to carry off several callously groan-worthy one-liners. Her objective is, as per the film, to capture Paddington and stuff him for her collection. Victoria Hamilton-Barritt plays her with such joyful excess that halfway through you half-expect her to point a gun at the orchestra and force them to back her in a power ballad about ethical taxidermy.
Right from the opening scene – a cluttered shop of curiosities, suitcases, a random alligator on a shelf – the staging of Luke Sheppard’s production hits you with a kind of greedy theatrical ambition. Set designer Tom Pye and projection designer Ash J Woodward have made fantastic use of a high ceiling and swept it into a cinematic delirium of floor-to-ceiling projections, constantly shifting backdrops, flickers of smoke, water jets, collapsing furniture, and the occasional absurd jet of whipped cream.
Transitions are machete-sharp. One moment we’re looking at a murky Paddington Station platform, the next hurtling through a leafy Peruvian jungle, then dazzled by the gaudy taxidermist’s lair, and finally sneaking into a surreal version of London’s Natural History Museum – giraffe heads and all. Lighting cues snap at just the right moment so the transformations feel alive; no clunky blackouts, just one big, rolling, magical illusion. The result is a show that never stands still, a theatrical Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold and confetti, and now occasionally even marmalade.
Arriving like an unseen haymaker, Bonnie Langford plays the Browns’ lodger, Mrs Bird. Throughout, she delivers in spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds. The scene-stealing Langford’s energy is nuclear: she dances her heart out, cartwheels across the stage, and leads a show-stopping number (“It’s Never Too Late”) that could be many musicals’ finest hour. At times Mrs Bird threatens to overshadow Paddington himself. One part aged Scottish lodger, one part live-action superhero, she resembles a real-life version of Forrest Wilson’s Super Gran. More than that, though, in a show already brimming with emotional touchpoints, she becomes a kind of anchor, unashamed, unfiltered, and utterly entertaining.
As for the songs, Tom Fletcher has written them in the key of blah. Despite – or perhaps because – his having co-authored seven UK number one singles for pop-rock boyband McFly, the upbeat efforts created for Paddington are joyful in the moment but utterly disposable. The slow numbers, for their part, pull at the heartstrings with the same determination and success as a baby pulling a tractor. Even with the weary acceptance that West End musicals are no longer required to have memorable songs in order to be successful, I can’t remember a songbook so forgettable.
If you want subtlety, maybe stay home with a jar of Tiptree and a good book. But if you want two hours of unapologetic, over-the-top, big-hearted theatre that celebrates London, immigration, family, and the sheer joy of spectacle then this Paddington is your friend. It doesn’t pretend to be deep; it does pretend to be exuberant. By all means come for the bear but stick around for the dazzling staging and the warm message about kindness and belonging that make you realize: maybe London (and maybe we) need a bit more marmalade in our lives. Pass the jar.
