Magical realism battles clumsy pacing in the touring production of the well-known story.

Picture yourself aboard a lifeboat, adrift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, accompanied only by a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. Thrilling, right? Now imagine that lifeboat is stranded in narrative quicksand, sinking beneath the weight of clunky exposition and distracting puppeteers.

Welcome to opening night of Life of Pi at the Denver Center, running March 18–30, an ambitious but ultimately uneven spectacle that proves even ocean adventures can run aground.

Based on Yann Martel’s beloved novel published in 2001, which was also stunningly adapted into a 2012 Oscar-winning film by Ang Lee, Lolita Chakrabarti’s stage adaptation follows Pi Patel (Taha Mandviwala), a spiritually curious teenager whose family decides to relocate by boat from politically tumultuous India to Canada, zoo animals in tow.

While at sea, a storm ensues, the ship sinks and Pi is stranded — shipwrecked on a lifeboat alongside some wild animals who soon become ferocious metaphors. But here’s the rub: this pivotal incident only arrives only a few moments before intermission as a dramatic cliffhanger, a strange dramaturgical decision courtesy of Chakrabarti’s adaptation.

Before this thrilling calamity at sea, the first act spends extensive time lingering at the zoo and philosophizing about religion, making me gradually lose faith in original director Max Webster/tour director Ashley Brooke Monroe’s vision. This sluggish pacing is compounded by a tedious framing device, where Pi recounts his tale from a sterile hospital room to Lulu Chen (Mi Kang) and Mr. Okamoto (Alan Ariano).

Unlike the book, where the question of Pi’s survival isn’t resolved until the gripping final section, this adaptation immediately reveals Pi’s fate upfront, draining suspense from his harrowing sea adventure. These hospital scenes don’t just stall momentum — they actively eliminate narrative stakes, transforming what could have been an edge-of-your-seat journey into overly didactic lessons about faith and survival.

Scream queen

Speaking of didacticism, Kang’s performances as Lulu Chen, Mrs. Biology Kumar and Zaida Khan embody a theatrical equivalent of screaming in all caps. Each character she tackles becomes an exaggerated caricature that pulls focus from an otherwise competent cast.

In contrast, Sorab Wadia delivers a compelling performance as Pi’s Father, grounding the early scenes in realism and returning via flashbacks to offer critical advice, while Jessica Angleskhan skillfully navigates her triple role as Amma, Nurse and the orangutan Orange Juice, providing moments of authentic warmth and humor.

At the heart of the production, Mandviwala is genuinely strong as Pi, particularly in the second act where his fight for survival becomes palpable and emotionally charged. Despite his committed portrayal, the subtleties of Mandviwala’s performance are often overshadowed by the overwhelming spectacle unfolding around him.

From my vantage point in the balcony (the press was seated in the top section of the theater, for “the best perspective”), I anticipated a sweeping visual spectacle. Instead, I found my view compromised by surprising limitations, despite premium pricing for this show.

Indeed, Tim Hatley’s scenic and costume designs, supported by Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling’s dynamic lighting and Carolyn Downing’s atmospheric soundscapes, created moments of undeniable beauty, especially during the storm sequences. Waves rippled dramatically across the stage through Andrzej Goulding’s evocative projections.

Yet, the supposedly prime balcony seats paradoxically obscured critical elements of Hatley’s multi-level set. Key action on the boat’s upper deck and dynamic ensemble moments positioned on higher platforms were frustratingly out of view, and stage action along the far sides often disappeared entirely.

Furthermore, while frequent scene transitions, cleverly achieved through moveable set pieces and detailed projections by Goulding, were visually intriguing, the immersion faltered each time projections failed to reach the back wall. Instead of an endless ocean horizon, viewers often stared distractingly at a gray wall with two doors that’s used for the hospital, severely undermining the believability of Pi’s perilous voyage surrounded by animals at sea.

The puppets in the show varied between dynamic and distracting. | Photo: Evan Zimmerman-MurphyMade

Puppets a mixed bag

Now, let’s talk about those puppets, which are arguably the show’s biggest selling point, and were created by designers Finn Caldwell and Nick Barnes to be operated onstage by the ensemble. Despite relentless social media marketing promising wonders of theatrical illusion, the puppetry only ranged from pretty good to maddeningly mediocre.

The zebra puppet, beautifully crafted with intricate detailing, appeared as an elegant, life-sized creation operated by multiple puppeteers working seamlessly beneath its frame. Its movements were convincingly realistic — from gentle breathing to desperate struggles — creating a strikingly authentic presence on stage. Similarly enchanting were smaller puppets depicting butterflies, fish and turtles, which were charming in their simplicity; however, other central animal portrayals fell short.

Take Richard Parker, the iconic tiger puppet. Initially, the actors manipulating him (Ben Durocher, Shiloh Goodin, Anna Leigh Gortner, Austin Wong Harper, Aaron Haskell, Toussaint Jeanlouis, Betsy Rosen, Anna Vomáčka and Andrew Wilson) were distractingly visible. Their constant positional shifts highlighted, rather than hid, the artificiality. Though their coordination improved significantly in the second act, the early awkwardness lingered in memory.

Still, even Richard Parker fared better than the profoundly confusing hyena, resembling more of an awkward dog than fearsome predator. Worse yet was Orange Juice, the orangutan — initially enchanting as she swung through treetops but absurdly surreal as puppeteers inexplicably seemed to keep her airborne on a raft devoid of anything resembling a vine. Such baffling choices consistently jolted viewers out of immersion, diminishing the emotional gravity of Pi’s journey.

But when Life of Pi embraces its inherent magical realism — such as the scene in which Pi tames Richard Parker, an exchange between Pi and an imaginary Captain or the quietly powerful scenes hinting at humanity behind the animal’s eyes — it offers glimpses of the stunning show it aspires to be. Unfortunately, these radiant moments remain fleeting.

With suspense diminished by early reveals and symbolism delivered with heavy-handed insistence, Life of Pi struggles under the weight of its thematic ambitions and uneven pacing, diminishing its emotional impact. Ultimately, despite a talented cast, Life of Pi at the Denver Center emerges as a frustratingly uneven theatrical journey — one that dazzles briefly, drags frequently and occasionally leaves audiences feeling stranded at sea.