The Red Shoes – Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

Writer: Nancy Harris
Original Story by: Hans Christian Andersen
Director: Kimberley Rampersad

The Royal Shakespeare Company is welcoming in the 2024 festive season at the Swan Theatre with what some would argue is a decidedly not-very-festive fairytale: Hans Christian Andersen’sThe Red Shoes. Nancy Harris’s new adaptation seesThe Red Shoes’reimagined for the 21st Century’, which can sometimes be a phrase that causes eyes to roll – but not here. The show opens with a witty rhyming narration by a mysterious character we come to know as Sylvestor (Sebastien Torkia), telling us that this is not the kind of fairytale we know and love, setting the stage beautifully for what follows – a dark, delicious treat.

The Red Shoesfollows the story of Karen (Nikki Cheung), a young girl sent to live with her adoptive parents, Bob (James Doherty) and Mariella (Dianne Pilkington) Nugent, and their son Clive (Joseph Edwards), following the death of her mother. Desperate to secure a place on the board of the ‘Save the Orphans’ Foundation, Mariella is persuaded to ensure Karen ‘looks the part’, lest it harm Mariella’s chances to impress at the dinner party she is hosting later that week. And so Karen meets the mysterious shoemaker, Sylvestor, and the infamous cursed shoes that drive her to despair, and thus, her battle between wanting to dance, but also be ‘good’ for her new family, ensues.

Cheung perfectly captures Karen’s innocence and naïveté, but balances this beautifully with Karen’s darker impulses, brought out by the shoes. Trained at the Royal Danish Ballet School, Cheung is mesmerising to watch during the show’s dance sequences, with the opening funeral scene and the ‘forest ball’ scene being particular highlights. Marc Tietler’s musical score is absolutely gorgeous, almost a character in and of itself, driving the story forward and connecting with Karen’s despair and exhilaration to heighten the show’s emotional moments to captivating effect.

Sebastien Torkia’s Sylvestor is reminiscent of another character in fairytale lore: the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. Sylvestor is a fascinating, mercurial character, absolutely oozing with charm and a disarming wit, but all the while there lurks beneath something sinister and sharp. He definitely isn’t good, but he’s also not quite bad either. It’s a captivating performance by Torkia, and having him narrate the action as Sylvestor, whilst also doubling the role of the Priest, is an intriguing choice which sparks many questions (is he really the Priest, or Sylvestor in disguise? Has he been watching Karen all along, and is he responsible for setting her on this path?).

Dianne Pilkington and James Doherty are an absolute riot as Karen’s adoptive parents and are responsible for much of the show’s comedic moments, of which there are many. (This may be a dark fairytale, but there is plenty of hilarity here, too). As Mariella, Pilkington is the epitome of the desperate social climber, contorting herself into whichever shape she needs to in order to get in with the right people. But all the while doing it with a blinding grin and a hysteria that is never bubbling too far from the surface. James Doherty as Bob is the perfect counterpart to Pilkington’s Mariella, his thinly veiled sarcasm and sass making for delicious sparring matches between the two. But beneath the surface, we get glimpses of sadness, regret, and longing which humanises them both and we see that they, like Karen, are yearning for something they cannot quite reach. In one poignant scene, Mariella asks her husband, ‘why don’t we dance anymore?’, to which Bob replies with a laugh and an eye roll, ‘You and your rhetorical questions!’. But we learn later that Bob too feels the keen ache of what used to be, after dancing with Karen at the dinner party, which ignites in him a fire long since extinguished. And the penultimate scene between Mariella and Karen, where the bitterness and resentment is laid bare and the two women finally begin to understand one another (“You were supposed to look after me”), is hugely moving.

Joseph Edwards is delightfully unhinged as the Nugents’ son Clive; a boy obsessed with ‘chopping things up’ and then sewing them back together and Sakuntala Ramanee’s performance as Mags, Karen’s kindly mother figure, is truly lovely.

Colin Richmond’s set design is hugely evocative, as is Ryan Day’s lighting, with the Swan’s stage bathed in red light, with a checkerboard floor, before dissolving into the flamboyance and frivolity of the Nugent family home – decked out with huge paintings, mirrors, and Clive’s ‘taxidermy’ (portrayed by members of the company wearing wonderfully outlandish headpieces). Richmond is also responsible for costumes here, too, and they are so much fun – from outrageous skirts to the aforementioned headpieces, to the shiny PVC of the mourners’ coats at the funeral, and Karen’s beautiful ‘ball gown’; it truly is a feast for the eyes! And the show’s big dance set pieces are magnificent – the disastrous dinner party that descends into absolute chaos as the shoes take a hold of Karen, with cutlery and plates flying everywhere; the ball where Karen meets her ‘Prince’ (“My parents just really lovedPurple Rain“); and of course the infamous scene where the shoes take their toll too much, and Karen begs for someone to cut them off. This is cleverly done in silhouette, so there’s no gore to worry about, and the shoes scurry off back into their shoebox seemingly all by themselves (special mention must go to Paul Kieve’s absolutely marvellous illusion work throughout).

The Red Shoesis a story with such a history, and has been adapted many times – perhaps most famously by Powell and Pressburger in their 1948 film and more recently by Matthew Bourne as a ballet. But this production absolutely holds its own against these ‘definitive’ adaptations of Andersen’s fairytale, embracing the darker elements of the story whilst also creating something strikingly original.

It is eerie, atmospheric, and reminiscent of all the best ghost stories of old but also leans into the faintly ridiculous to create something that is hugely funny and an absolute pleasure to watch. It doesn’t quite end on the entirely bleak and tragic note of Andersen’s original, (to be somewhat expected given that this is the RSC’s festive family offering this year). What we’re left with instead is a beautiful (but still bittersweet) message of hope, summed up beautifully in Rampersad’s programme notes: “If fairytales can teach us anything, it’s that our wounds have the potential to be our strength”.

Runs until 19 January 2025