Slava's Snow Show - UK Tour Review

From the moment the lights dim and the hush settles in the auditorium, you’re reminded just how rare it is to witness theatre that truly honours the word ‘wonder’. In its simplest form, Slava’s Snow Show feels like childhood made visible. As an adult, you see threads of emotion, of pain, of pure theatrical virtuosity. It transcends age, and each time you come back, you discover something new—and if you have the chance to see it, you absolutely should.

Slava Polunin transforms the stage into a portal of surreal, poetic mischief. A troupe of clowns lead us through a series of dream-like scenes: a coat and hat become a lover, a spider’s web ensnares the audience, then finally the stage vanishes beneath a storm of white confetti, followed by giant balloons. It’s not a conventional performance, but that’s the point—this is an immersive collage of emotion, absurdity, and joy that speaks in a language beyond words.

Gestures delivered with subtlety, such as a glance or a shuffle across the stage, reveal character and tell a story. One performer, for example, uses the simple image of a piece of paper drifting through the air, landing perfectly on a man’s head, and in that moment, you hold your breath. These are not clown antics—they are physical poetry, contorting tension before our eyes.

Seventeen years ago, I watched as a child, and what struck me then was pure wonder. The production remains potently visual. Each and every movement is deliberate and feels carefully composed for optimum impact. When the audience is invited to interact, to stand, to help collapse the giant web, to be showered with ‘snow’, it is playful yet profound. As a child, you felt only the play; as an adult, you perceive the layers—the stillness before a storm, the mischief in the corners, the craft of silence. That duality—child and adult, amazement and artistry—is perhaps what makes Slava’s Snow Show so rare.

One scene that has forever lived with me is the train station: a lonely coat and hat on a rack, made alive by the clown’s delicate movements. In that moment, you sense sadness —not as a performance, but as real life. Then, later, a gale-force wind, lights flashing, snow falling, an orchestration of sensory overload that I only wish I could bottle. Though billed as family-friendly, this is not a show that panders to children. When the final balloons floated up, the adults joined in, spilling out of their seats, smiling as much as the kids. That communal sense of delight is rare in modern theatre.

The show has been on tour for decades, and some might argue that certain effects or gags have been scaled back or ‘done better in other shows,’ but that doesn’t diminish the impact. The magic remains intact, even if the mechanisms are less invisible. Clowning, after all, is an ancient art: the body, the face, the gesture. In an era where everything in theatre tries to “say something,” Slava’s Snow Show simply is.

Whether you’re taking a young child who will squeal with delight at the snow or you’re taking yourself out for an evening of pure theatrical magic, this show works for both. You’ll laugh, you might cry, you’ll feel the theatrics in your bones. Because there are nights when we all need to remember what it felt like to be young, and nights when we deserve to see it done by masters. This is that night.