Review: The Red Shoes (Swan Theatre)

Review by Raphael Kohn

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The best thing about fairy tales is when they are dark. Properly dark. Sure, a panto version of Cinderella might not include the horrific amateur eye destruction from some birds. But the original tale does. Similarly, Hans Christian Andersen’s The Red Shoes is full of horrific injuries, mutilation, devastation, and unfortunate predicaments. And what a delight they can be on stage, presented in a politically satirical, cover-your-children’s-eyes production in the intimate Swan Theatre of the RSC.

Andersen’s original tale goes hard on its values – promoting humility and eschewing vanity in the story of Karen, a child born in poverty who is adopted by an affluent family. Discovering the titular footwear, she becomes obsessed with wearing them to the detriment of her family, missing important events and wearing them inappropriately to church. And of course, there’s a good deal of death and pain – Karen finds herself with her feet amputated and eventually… well, you can guess.

But this is not Andersen’s tale. This is a new version by playwright Nancy Harris, reinterpreting The Red Shoes for a modern audience. Gone are the values which underpin the original, instructing children to be obedient, modest, and quiet. Directed by Kimberley Rampersad, this new version flips it all on its head. Nothing here is modest, sensible, or normal, and it’s all the better for it. This is a production almost reminiscent of a Tim Burton film, unashamedly all-in with its strangeness.

We are introduced to Karen (Nikki Cheung), initially mute for the first half-hour of the show, at her biological mother’s funeral. Everyone’s dressed in steampunky leather jackets and sunglasses, and they overact into camp oblivion. That campness continues throughout, with her adoptive mother (a stupendous Dianne Pilkington) leading the way in a ridiculously over-the-top production. That is, apart from Karen herself, who is quiet and calm, until she discovers her shoes.

Ultimately, through Harris’ view, the only thing that is normal (and not over-the-top) at all is Karen. And what an interpretation of class this becomes – the upper class are so oblivious to their antics, the madness of their life, and the stupidity of their world, that Karen’s response to it all is completely justified. After all, in her fish-out-of-water situation of being adopted by a family so unaware of their strangeness, it is hardly unsurprising that she finds solace in her shoes, a way for her to express her own identity and her own sense of self.

But this political nature is all wrapped up in a production which balances the comedy with the darkness on a knife-edge. There’s the aforementioned camp chaos, superbly led by Dianne Pilkington’s Mariella Nugent, delivering a sassy, borderline deranged performance full of vocal fry and hyper-overblown retorts. It’s hard not to be thoroughly entertained throughout. Her onstage husband, James Doherty’s Bob Nugent is similarly ridiculous, his adoration for money and success clouding any sense of real-world priorities.

Beyond the stupidity of the foster parents (remember, Andersen originally used these characters to suggest children should be obedient to their elders!), there’s chaos too in their son, whose ridiculousness manifests more through plain weirdness. After all, I’d at least hope most people don’t know many seventeen-year-olds obsessed with chopping, wielding axes and stuffing dead animals. But Joseph Edwards’ ridiculously murderous Clive somehow manages to make this both believable and humourous. 

The most villainy comes from the dual-roling Sebastien Torkia as both the Priest and Sylvestor, the shoemaker who creates the Red Shoes. Rhyming his way through the opening, he serves as our narrator as well, parodying the ‘once upon a time’ trope and making mockery of Disney-influenced perceptions of fairytales. But there’s a darkness to him, revelling in the misfortune his shoes make, acted with glee throughout.

Fittingly, it’s all drenched in blood-red. Designer Colin Richmond places it all on a dark red stage, able to be the horrifically unfashionable Nugents’ house, a dark and mysterious forest, and a terrifying shoe shop all at once, with a myriad of tricks hidden in the staging to delight and amuse. Lighting designer Ryan Day covers it all in ruby hues, making use of more dark than light much of the time to expertly unnerve.

It loses its pace a bit sometimes, particularly in the second act, as it meanders through scenes which slightly lack the depth and development of the first act. But thankfully a trump card comes into play with Marc Teitler’s music, underscoring a lot of the action with a small-scale but cinematic band of seven, sat above the stage. And with music comes dance, which shouldn’t be a surprise from a plot like this one, but is danced balletically by Cheung as Karen, performing what an actor can do with a thousand words with her effortless movement.

But at the end of the day, this is still a production based off a moralistic fairy tale. But ‘who wants morals?’, our narrator Sylvestor asks. Ultimately, Harris wants more than anything for us to ‘dance our own dance’, find our own way in the world, and love our own Red Shoes. So if we have something that brings us joy, each and every one of us, then that is what we should take to. Even if our Red Shoes result in those who do not understand us rejecting our Red Shoes, it doesn’t mean we can’t wear them. A fitting moral for this day and age, I think.

The Red Shoes plays until 19 January 2025. Tickets from https://www.rsc.org.uk/the-red-shoes/

Photos by Manuel Harlan