A Practically Perfect Christmas: Mary Poppins Floats Into the Wales Millennium Centre
There are festive shows… and then there is Mary Poppins at the Wales Millennium Centre. As I stepped into the WMC tonight—its copper curves glowing like a giant Christmas bauble—I could feel that familiar December hum: school groups buzzing on sugary excitement, parents clutching prosecco, couples in matching jumpers. Cardiff Bay might as well have been Cherry Tree Lane.
And from the moment Stefanie Jones descended onto the stage, silhouetted in the most iconic of nanny postures, the audience collectively exhaled that magical, childlike yes, ‘it’s really her‘ sigh. Having starred in the award-winning Australian production, Jones arrives in Cardiff already decorated with accolades, but it’s the warmth in her performance that truly shines. She has the poise, the stillness, the crisp comic timing—and the kind of voice that feels like it’s giving you a hug. Her “Feed the Birds” was theatre sorcery: still, intimate, and honest enough to hush even the rustling sweet wrappers behind me.
“It’s a spectacular, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious triumph.”
Sharing the reins of nostalgia is Jack Chambers as Bert, another Australian export whose triple-threat status is no mere programme note. Chambers glides through Matthew Bourne’s and Richard Eyre’s choreography as though his bones are made of elastic and Christmas spirit. His “Step in Time” brought the house to its feet. I swear he tapped up the walls.
And then there’s the Banks family. Michael D. Xavier brings a beautifully layered George Banks to life, the stiffness, the fear, the vulnerability you forget is at the heart of the role. Opposite him, Lucie-Mae Sumner’s Winifred radiates sincerity. Together, they anchor the show with emotional heft, reminding us that Mary Poppins isn’t just a whimsical children’s tale; it’s a gentle critique of class, parenting, overwork, and the grinding gears of a society that forgets to laugh. Watching it in 2025? It hits differently. More sharply. More tenderly.
Rosemary Ashe, a West End legend in her own right, is comedy gold as Mrs Brill, so sharp she could butter bread with one eyebrow. Wendy Ferguson’s Miss Andrew, meanwhile, is a deliciously villainous thundercloud, her booming vocals ricocheting around the Donald Gordon Theatre with wicked delight. Add Sharon Wattis as the vibrant Mrs Corry and David Burrows as Admiral Boom, and the supporting cast bursts with personality like a festive cracker.
“it’s practically perfect in every way”
The young casts alternating as Jane and Michael Banks—including tonight’s charming duo—deserve their own ovation. Their chemistry with Jones is electric; their mischief, irresistible.
But credit where it’s due: Cameron Mackintosh and Disney Theatrical Group know how to build a Christmas spectacle. Bob Crowley’s set and costumes take you from Edwardian neatness to full-blown magical technicolour with a flip of a hat. The illusions (by Paul Kieve & Jim Steinmeyer) drew audible gasps—real ones, the kind that ripple through rows in waves. And Luke Hall’s projections transform the WMC stage into a storybook portal: chalk drawings burst into life; rooftops glow under moonlight; stars actually sparkle.
The score—Sherman Brothers classics woven with new songs by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe—remains as irresistible as ever. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is choreographic heaven, a tongue-twisting triumph that had half the audience mouthing along, myself included. No judgement.
This UK & Ireland Tour, directed by James Powell with choreography recreated by Richard Jones, doesn’t just replicate the West End production—it revitalises it. It feels fresh. Bigger. More celebratory. More needed.
And perhaps that’s why Mary Poppins at the Wales Millennium Centre feels like the perfect Christmas show for 2025. Beyond the spectacle, it leans into its social heartbeat: the reminder that kindness is radical, that joy is powerful, that families—messy, busy, flawed—need magic not to distract them, but to return them to themselves. In a world that still feels upside-down, Mary’s gentle command to “practically perfect” our priorities is surprisingly timely.
It’s a spectacular, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious triumph.
A heartwarmer. A dazzler. A reminder that theatre—especially at Christmas—still has the power to lift us off the ground.
Book your tickets here. Bring your kids. Bring your grandparents. Bring that mate who cries at adverts.
This is the Christmas show Wales deserves. And it’s practically perfect in every way.
