Theatre Review: The Red Shoes at Bristol Hippodrome

This review was first written for British Theatre Guide

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s 1948 film The Red Shoes was a landmark of its time, a surreally visual cinematic feast in an era of realism, with an extended ballet sequence at its core. Based around the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale of the same name, it tells the story of an ambitious young dancer torn between art and love.

Now, more than three years after its world première at Plymouth’s Theatre Royal, Matthew Bourne has revived his Olivier Award-winning dance production of The Red Shoes for a UK tour. And, as you would expect from New Adventures, there’s no holding back or compromising on the sheer gorgeousness of the costumes and set just because this is a touring show. Long-time Bourne collaborator Lez Brotherston’s design incorporates a traditional curtained proscenium arch that frames the performers for the audience, before revolving to reveal their moments backstage or moving to the side in rehearsal, uncovering all the agony and ecstasy of a dancer’s life.

It’s a perfect setting for the story of Victoria Page, a rising star in the fictional Ballet Lermontov, danced on press night by Cordelia Braithwaite with a lyrical and expressive grace in the role originated by Ashley Shaw. Victoria’s big break comes when the ballet’s prima ballerina Irina (Michela Meazza) is injured and she is selected by domineering impresario Boris Lermontov (Glenn Graham) to dance the principal role in his new show—a dark fable of a girl who covets a pair of red ballet shoes, only to find that, once she puts them on, they have a mind of their own and dance her to her death.

This ballet-within-a-ballet is demarcated by a series of grey-toned projections onto a kaleidoscopic white dreamscape, with dancers in monochrome costumes in stark contrast to Victoria’s vivid blood-red shoes and dress. Her increasingly frantic series of steps, as her character begins to realise her fate, comes to reflect her own swirling and chaotic state of mind as she finds herself more and more riven by Lermontov’s ferocious and controlling demands and her love for the ballet’s composer Julian Craster (tenderly portrayed by Dominic North).

Set to Bernard Herrmann’s evocative golden age music, gleaned by Terry Davies from a number of films including Fahrenheit 451 and Citizen Kane, the story moves from London to the dazzling Riviera glamour of Monte Carlo and Villefrance-sur-Mer, before diving into the tongue-in-cheek seediness of an East End music hall, complete with comic sand dancers and world-weary showgirls.

There are so many detailed references in Bourne’s choreography—from the ballet Les Sylphides through to Le Train Bleu—that it is virtually impossible to decide where to look first. You could spend all your time watching for the next gently lampooned classical pastiche and witty aside or—equally satisfyingly—just sit back and enjoy the ravishing spectacle. Like the film, the second act seems to rush too quickly towards its conclusion, but perhaps this is because you simply don’t want it to end. From the passionately wrought pas de deux between Victoria and Julian, to Lermontov’s controlling stillness, the company’s stunning ensemble pieces, the cascade of astonishing sets, and inventive sound design layering applause onto audience applause, this is a stirring extravaganza for all the senses.

Reviewed on 3 March 2020 | Images: Johan Persson

Dance Review: Matthew Bourne's Sleeping Beauty at Bristol Hippodrome

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

It's the Brothers Grimm fairytale that enchanted so many childhoods, the Disney film rewound until the video tape wore thin, but Matthew Bourne audaciously reinvents the classical ballet of Sleeping Beauty for an audience all too familiar with its content.

By immersing himself in all the versions of the story he could find, then throwing in some twists of his own, Bourne presents an exquisite but accessible fusion of ideas that opens with his New Adventures company in the Gothic splendour of 1890. It’s a time-frame that allows for a richly expressive reinterpretation of Tchaikovsky’s score and a whole range of sumptuous possibilities for Bourne’s long-time collaborator, set and costume designer Lez Brotherston.

The production is a visual feast from the start, as the King and Queen who longed for a child have their dearest wish granted, only to find their daughter cursed by the dark fairy, Carabosse. Bourne’s retelling introduces Aurora in puppet form as a mischievous toddler, clambering up the curtains and evading the servants, before being entertained with teasing vibrancy by a troupe of fairies representing such foreshadowing, elemental forces as passion, plenty and rebirth.

Swept aside by Carabosse’s dark vision, their King is able to mitigate the worst of her evil intentions, propelling us into the golden Edwardian summer of 1911 as Aurora comes of age; a free-spirited, independent young woman surrounded by suitors including Leo, the royal gamekeeper, whom she favours with her love and Carabosse’s enigmatic son Caradoc, introduced to the plot with a determination to carry on his mother’s fiendish legacy.

On press night, Ashley Shaw as Princess Aurora and Chris Trenfield as Leo combine in a series of pas de deux, which interpret both the playful and the passionate with lyrical ease, while Adam Maskell, dual-rolling as both Carabosse and Caradoc, is a commanding and charismatic presence who channels more than a little of The Twilight Saga’s Cullen family. Christopher Marley’s Count Lilac, King of the Fairies, more than tests his mettle in matching him; the vampiric theme recurs as a force for both evil and good and an elegant solution to the inherent difficulty of driving the narrative forward by 100 years into the 21st Century.

There are some stunning ensemble pieces from the company and technically, this is a flawless production. Paule Constable’s lighting imbues the land of sleepwalkers – a half-world of limpid ghosts seeking release – with all the painterly, textural beauty of a Hockney landscape. The use of a conveyor throughout to introduce dancers at the back of the set is simple yet stunningly effective, adding a further dimension to a high-value production that is a seamless blend of contrasting pace and dance styles from classical to contemporary.

The finale is full of edgy colour, wit and dangerous dramatic tension to the last step; a fitting end to this triumphant revival of a tale of good versus evil which continues to resonate on every level.

Reviewed on 1 March 2016 as part of a tour | Image: Johan Persson