Sinister tale of grief is out of this world

The Ocean At The End Of The Lane (Dorfman, National Theatre, London) Verdict: Doctor Who meets Stranger Things ★★★★✩ Three Sisters (Lyttelton, NT) Verdict: Chekhov fascinatingly reborn in Nigeria ★★★★✩

Two impressive new shows that launched at the National Theatre this week make the most of the company’s enormous resources.

one is a fabulously sinister adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s cult novel for young adults.

The other is a fine version of Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters, transposed to the Biafran war in 1960s Nigeria.

Gaiman’s 2013 novel The ocean At The End of The Lane is an extraordinary piece of bespoke mysticism that most sensible writers would think of as unadaptable.

But Joel Horwood pulls it off by plotting a course through the convoluted story of a grieving boy who discovers a portal to another world on a farm near his home.

while he is trying to escape from his struggling father and hectoring sister, a creature from another universe insinuates itself into his bloodstream and is reborn as an evil lodger who intends to replace his late mother. ( Told you it was convoluted.)

It’s a unique fantasy, drawing on folklore, particle physics and even a little of Gaiman’s own family’s involvement with Scientology.

The result, though, is a show that’s a cross between TV’s

Stranger Things and Doctor who. Crucially, Katy Rudd’s atmospheric and sometimes scary production imbues it with a magic all its own. She co- ordinates extra-terrestrial puppetry, pulsing music

a la Jean-Michel Jarre and a metamorphic set design by Fly Davis to enchanting effect.

There is a succession of magic tricks by Jamie Harrison, culminating in one sensational moment when a long, red hand wriggles out of a bathtub.

I was in awe of Samuel Blenkin, as our nameless hero, whose age has been bumped up from the book, allowing him to be played by a professional actor. Blenkin is blinking amazing — a gymnastic combination of fear, fascination and fortitude.

Pippa Nixon is brilliant, too, as the chillingly cheerful lodger who controls people by giving them what they want (a bit like the BBC).

Marli Siu, meanwhile, is a sweet, apple-cheeked bumpkin as our hero’s friend.

My favourite puppets were the huge, flapping demons, which were like winged dinosaurs with the body fur of poodles — which probably makes them pterodacty-doodles.

I found the show more inventive than scary, but it’s probably best for children over the age of 12 — not least because of its strong themes, triggered by a suicide ( not the mother’s).

Nor will I pretend that it’s always easy to follow. But this is one murky narrative labyrinth in which I was happy to be lost.

PLAYWRIGHT Anton Chekhov is best known for his gently tortured 19th- century comedies about provincial