There is a weight of expectation on this revival of War Horse, widely regarded as the National Theatre’s most successful play. Since its debut in 2007, the show - and its intricate equine puppetry - has received rapturous praise. Now, after a five year absence, the show embarked on a national tour this autumn, directed by Tom Morris with revival director Katie Henry. So, post-pandemic and in a deeply uncertain time for many, does War Horse retain its grip and profundity? After last night’s astonishing performance, I would wholeheartedly say it does.

At nearly two and half hours plus interval, it’s not a short play, but it doesn’t feel long - the pacing allows for a deep and deliberate transformation to take place for all involved. We meet our two protagonists as youths: an innocent teen boy in Devon called Albert (an excellent Tom Sturgess) and the half-thoroughbred, half-draughthorse foal he names Joey. Albert’s father Ted (Karl Haynes), a callous drunk prone to gambling, wins Joey in an auction and then frequently threatens to lose him again, as the family’s debts grow precariously. The first half of the show allows time for us to see the love, understanding and respect grow between Albert and Joey. Their bond seems no less profound for its worldlessness and will feel deeply familiar to anyone who’s ever had a truly beloved pet.

Of course, all of this would look fairly absurd with the use of lesser puppets, and South African company Handspring’s designs - along with the incredibly talented performers manning them - are the backbone of the production. You needn’t watch the show for more than a minute before the human hands and legs surrounding the puppets fade away and the horses - in all their flicking ears, dipping necks and clopping hooves - come vividly to life as their own entities. It’s not just the technical genius of the wooden and metal puppets, but the meticulously observed second-by-second motions that make Joey (performed by Head - Matthew Lawrence, Heart - Rafe Young, Hind - Felicity Donnelly), Topthorn (Head - Tea Poldervaart, Heart - Robin Hayward, Hind - Gun Suen) and Joey as a foal (Head - Diany Samba-Bandza, Heart - Jordan Paris, Hind - Eloise Beaumont-Wood) look dazzlingly real. It’s an incredible marriage of artistic mediums, which alone would be worth the cost of admission. Thankfully, the accompanying story is also wonderful.

Overhead onstage, there is video projection, animating pencil sketches of changing seasons and landscapes onto what looks like a strip of paper roughly torn from a sketchbook. The stage is kept largely bare otherwise, and given a shadowy depth from which characters can emerge and retreat (homes are represented by standalone window and door frames placed just in front of the darkness. It’s genius design work from Rae Smith, atmospheric without ever overshadowing or crowding the puppetry.

There are also folk songs bookending many of the scenes, performed luminously by Sally Swanson (credited simply as ‘The Singer’), who accompanies herself on the accordion and is occasionally joined by the ensemble. It’s a great, immediate touch that gave me chills on multiple occasions.

Joey and Albert enjoy two years (and most of the first act) in relative peace, before 1914 draws to a close and the First World War tears them apart. Albert vows to reunite with his beloved horse, and the tale then follows each of their harrowing solo experiences in the war.

This is Joey’s story as much as Albert’s, and through him we meet other memorable characters including Captain Friedrich Muller (a beautiful performance from Alexander Ballinger), a German soldier desperate to make it home to his wife and young daughter. We also witness how the skills Albert taught Joey (plowing, even-temperedness) and vice versa (determination, how to lead) keep the two alive. The storytelling is unflinching on the brutality and sickening injustice of war, but never manipulative or cruel towards our feelings.

I won’t spoil the ending, so all I’ll say is I can’t imagine someone leaving this production in anything but fullhearted appreciation. If you’re anything like me, you’ll cry, cheer, and feel very grateful that lightning-in-a-bottle theatrical experiences like this stop in Oxford.