Cilgwyn Theatre Company’s devised performance employs elements of Kipling’s fantastical narrative and weaves in Carrollesque transformations that send Katie and Sam sliding into the forest world through a hidden hole in their family dining table. The Wax Moth reigns over an army of strange, amorphous creatures, dressed in Martina Trottman’s playful and evocative costumes. Wings protrude from the Wax Moth’s headpiece, and she wears a tapered dress with pockets of worms that almost seem to breathe as she walks.

Despite all the hallmarks of a magical journey, the performance doesn’t exploit its resources to the full. The characters lack clarity and detail at times; the Wild Cat seems more like a civil fox, its humour indistinct and its persona unaffected by the mysteries of the forest. The Wax Moth, though imaginatively played by Rachael Gray, feels too languid for the threatening presence she sets out to be. And while the story shows much potential, Imogen Commander’s text is too content with simply borrowing Kipling’s dark magic and mystery, rather than taking it to new ground.

The Way Through the Woods aims to be a challenging and accessible piece of theatre, but it remains unbalanced between the potential of the audience journey and the energy of the cast. The performers show admirable devotion to their characters and a strong desire to share this fantasy world with the audience, but the forest cries out for its mysteries and dangers to run wild.

Erna is a former cleaner with an unruly son and some strict moral values; Grete’s husband has run off with another woman and she now takes comfort in her blonde curls and thick make-up; and Mariedl prides herself on her dexterity in the art of toilet cleaning.

As the three women vie for eternal salvation, they begin to imagine alternative futures. Grete’s fate is to be fondled by the musician who later asks her hand in marriage, the butcher entrusts his stock of meat to Erna’s cautious hands, and the priest rewards Mariedl’s dexterity with some wacky water-closet surprises.

Vanda Butkovic’s adaptation is absorbingly direct. The play speaks straight to a British audience with characters fit for an episode of Shameless. The sharpness of language is enhanced by the kitsch stage aesthetic so that overall, the play becomes more portrait than satire, more immediate than confrontation.

Sarah Calver brings Mariedl’s toilet cleaning triumphs to life with suggestive physicality, while Carol Robb parades Grete’s socks and sandals with delectable vulgarity. Hilary Burns’ Erna is an unshakable Catholic zealot that makes for an iconic Virgin Mary, complete with tablecloth headdress.

Holy Mothers is full of surreal religious moments, and while not always explored to their fullest extent, they add an evocative dimension to Schwab’s renowned Austrian cynicism.