Last week was a theatrical rollercoaster. Sandwiched between two roles on stage, an over indulgent American mother and a medieval German nun, I observed and absorbed a diverse range of shows too; from a west end style musical to a family opera, an adapted European classic to a Canadian comedy, and a experimental development project too. And like any such ride, it brought some highs, as well as quite a few lows.

I love the theatre, for many reasons. To quote one of my heroes, Cate Blanchett, it’s "life affirming, exhilarating". For those of us who know that feeling, who have experienced theatre's magic, whether watching it or being part of it, we know that there is nothing quite like it. We move on quickly from the lows, knowing that the highs will come. But sadly not everyone sees it that way and unfortunately, there are times when I can understand why.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was wonderful fun for children (mine, aged six, seven and eight, loved it) but it was an expensive and rather disappointing afternoon as an adult. I’d read up on the tour and so wasn’t expecting the marvels of a Matilda or a Mary Poppins tour, and there were some clever and creative bits, but there were some moments that really niggled too. Why did the car fly, but the backdrop remained static? What was going on at the end? Were there just too many children? 

I felt something similar when I went to see Ode to Nonsense, the world premiere of an opera about Edward Lear. There were some moments of beautiful creativity, with both the big picture and the details, but there were a lot of children on stage then too. I left the theatre feeling slightly frustrated that the sparks of promise hadn’t delivered the magic I’d hoped for. I’m sure if I’d been related to one of the children who danced and sung their hearts out, I’d have felt immense pride and joy. But I wasn’t, so sadly I didn’t. And did even they, truly, feel the magic?

Just to be clear, I’m not in league with the child catcher. I’m a huge advocate of children and theatre and whole heartily encourage the mix, on stage, back stage and watching as much as possible too. There are some fantastic classes and workshops and a huge range of amateur theatre companies that provide amazing opportunities for children of all ages. However a professional production brings with it a whole new level of pressure, commitment and expectation, from everyone. But, before I run the risk of sound like a cantankerous wicked witch (coincidentally a part I’ve played three times), I’ll move on.

Always open to something new and different, I was intrigued by a development project From Darkness the Day. Having researched and played with concepts for several years, a company had been workshopping, for two weeks, a new presentation of theatrical work, using dance, music and light. It was only as I sat down in my seat that I realised that this was also geared towards children. As adults, we were told to let our “inner child” come out. Curiously I’d been asked to do the same at Ode to Nonsense the day before. But, even though I did try, mine really didn’t feel inclined to appear. 

The other moments of theatre were fine, although, I’m not sure that great magic really comes from just fine. Alongside Hedda Gabler, on which I’ve already written, there was Girl in The Goldfish Bowl, a Canadian play about a 10 year old, Iris, and her view of the world and in it was a line that stuck. Looking puzzled and upset, Iris turned to the audience and said, “I realised that this must be the end of my childhood as, even upside down, nothing seemed to be magic anymore”. And with that, my week of theatre made sense.

As adults, we still want that feeling; that feeling of magic we remember having as a child when we were so lost in a moment, so happy or sad, that nothing else mattered. We need it, as individuals and as a society. And great theatre can give that. It transports you to another place, shocks, moves, turns worlds upside down. But, most importantly, we need to experience it and feel it as we are; we don’t need to pretend to be a child to get there. It doesn’t work like that.

Unlike a good book or film or piece of visual art, theatre is experienced in a moment, by individuals who are aware of being in their own world but also part of something much bigger. And although not all theatre creates magic all of the time, when it does, it’s electrifying. There really is nothing quite like it. That’s why I agree with Cate Blanchett. That's why I keep going back. I just wish it wasn’t such a bumpy ride.