A three-and-a-half-hour stage adaptation of an Ingmar Bergman film would sound daunting to many, so Stephen Beresford’s version opens with young protagonist Alexander Ekdahl declaring to the audience that it will contain ghosts, demons, camels and all kinds of wonders. And so it does: Bergman’s last unquestioned masterpiece (released in 1982) contains all the meditations you might expect on mortality, love and fulfilment, but also on the relationship between performance and reality (the Ekdahls are a theatrical family in 1907 Uppsala, Sweden) and a host of other matters, including even some undisguised fun. Alexander’s uncle Gustav Adolf’s adultery may be domestically problematic, but it gives Jonathan Slinger the saltiest speeches of the evening.

Beresford has not simply translated Bergman’s screen original, which ran for over three hours in its cinematic version, over five in its intended TV incarnation. He invents dialogue and entire scenes, not least to throw some more light on Alexander’s mother Emilie (Catherine Walker, first-rate) as she rashly over-compensates for her less than passionate first marriage by wedding the austere Bishop Edvard Vergérus – Kevin Doyle, who does a fine job of maintaining some humanity in his character for as long as possible. The adaptation also opens matters up, so that although we still experience Bergman’s semi-autobiographical tale as being to some extent that of his avatar Alexander (played confidently on press night by Misha Handley), it now feels more essentially an ensemble piece, with everyone getting a decent crack of the whip.

This also helps the publicity by making it a little more plausible to bill Penelope Wilton as the star. She turns in a beautiful performance as the unflappable, unfoolable materfamilias Helena Ekdahl (persistently giving line readings to others even during family dinners), but she would be the last to claim this is her show, especially with names such as Michael Pennington, Lolita Chakrabarti, Annie Firbank and Sargon Yelda also in the cast.

Director Max Webster animates matters well, seldom if ever allowing changes between shorter screen-length scenes to slow matters down; Mark Henderson’s lighting somehow mimics the cinematography of Bergman’s cameraman Sven Nykvist, making even sparse compositions feel rich. London coincidentally has presented a number of unusually long stage shows recently; this one, Bergman and all, feels least like it.

Written for the Financial Times.