Five Robert Munsch stories have been reimagined for the stage. The result is a can't-miss delight

Or so we think. 

I was probably eight or nine when I stopped reading Robert Munsch, the Canadian author whose flair for grand hyperbole could tickle the imagination of any child. His stories had been a formative part of my early childhood. I’d read, re-read and re-re-read almost every work in his collection. (Or, rather, I begged my mother to read them to me.) 

But then it all ended as I matured and moved on to other stories and other books.

At Thursday’s opening night performance of “Love You Forever and More Munsch,” now running at Young People’s Theatre, it had been more or less two decades since I last dove into a Munsch story. But watching Stephen Colella and Sue Miner’s big, brash and thoroughly whimsical stage adaptation of five of Munsch’s most popular books — “Mortimer,” “The Paper Bag Princess,” “Murmel, Murmel, Murmel,” “Zoom!” and “Love You Forever” — felt like being reacquainted with an old, childhood friend. 

You may think that you’ve outgrown them, but that connection, it turns out, is still as strong as ever.  

That Colella and Miner’s 45-minute play works so well is because it stays completely truthful to the original material. It’s every bit as rambunctious and absurd as Munsch’s stories, while never attempting to turn those tales into moral lessons, as many children’s plays often do. (Munsch was always averse to that.) 

The story of Mortimer — a hyperactive young boy who cannot go to sleep and would much prefer to “clang, clang, rattle-bing-bang” his way through the night, much to the frustration of his poor mother — serves as the play’s primary narrative, and the frame within which the other books fit. 

As he raises a ruckus in his room, characters from other stories tumble out of his closet. There’s the princess who, after her castle is destroyed by a fire-breathing dragon and wearing only a paper bag on her back, sets out on a journey to save her prince. 

Later, out pops the orphaned baby from “Murmel, Murmel, Murmel,” in search of a home and a family. The play then seamlessly transitions to “Love You Forever,” about the unbreakable, decades-spanning bond between a parent and their child. 

Just as this story leaves you in a puddle of tears (do bring tissues), Colella and Miner end with the uplifting and outlandish story of “Zoom!,” about a rebellious girl named Lauretta, who wants nothing more than to zoom around in an ultra-fast, 92-speed wheelchair. 

As Mortimer, David Andrew Reid is delightful, bounding across the stage with the wide-eyed energy of a six-year-old plied with too many sweets. Amy Lee and Megan Murphy, who play Mortimer’s mother and sister, along with a host of other characters, lend a similar, larger-than-life spark to their performances. 

Colella, who directs this production alongside Karen Gilodo, fully embraces the fantastical nature of Munsch’s books. Robin Fisher’s set is particularly impressive — with Mortimer’s room resembling a 3-D pop-up book, as if hand-drawn with pencil crayons. Meanwhile, Jung A Im’s quirky costumes gorgeously transform illustrator (and frequent Munsch collaborator) Michael Martchenko’s original designs for the stage. 

There’s also something truly special about seeing Munsch’s stories told on stage. It’s important to remember that before they were turned into books, many of his tales began as oral stories, told to groups of children in school classrooms and libraries. So, it’s fitting how Colella and Miner brought these stories back to an oral medium, performed for a collective audience. 

On opening night, the best moment came not from the stage, but from the audience. Across the aisle from where I was sitting, a young boy, who seemingly knew every Munsch story inside out, bellowed to the stage an iconic line from “Mortimer”: “Mortimer, be quiet!” he screamed at full volume. 

His interjection elicited a roar of laughter from the audience like I have not heard in a very long time. And I think, in that moment, everyone felt like a kid again.

That’s the magic, and enduring power, of Munsch’s stories.